Excessive - Claire Adams

EXCESSIVE By Claire Adams This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

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EXCESSIVE PART 1

Chapter 1 Hunter The edges of the 12-gauge shotgun glistened before the curious eyes of my

prospective customer. The look on his face was something like awestruck. I had seen it a million times before. Dilated pupils with a hint of astonishment. He was hard for the gun… Most guys were. “You have pretty good taste, Mister. You picked one of the most accurate ones from the bunch,” the older man muttered. It was an obvious fact. The precision and design coupled with the immaculate quality of the weapon would make anyone feel intimidated and a little overwhelmed. Even me, and I owed the place. I ran my fingers along the silver, smooth barrel of the long range, power gun. I caught an opaque reflection of myself in the flawless steel of the gun. The reflection staring back at me resembled the man I was more than the one I had become. The guy in front of me muttered something about the gun being heavenly, and I came to my senses. Cautious not to damage or scratch the gun, I laid the weapon on the clear display counter. “When I saw it, I felt it was special. That’s the reason why I chose it among the rest.” Memories of my childhood danced through my mind’s eye. Those good old days reminded me of my passion for hunting. I smiled and tried to keep myself in the present. It would be easy to spend the afternoon in memory after memory. Life was easier back then. “I learned to hunt just as early as I learned to hold a pencil and write my name. Guns were always the best use of my time, although my father used to give me those cheap plastic ones that were like toys when I was small. He would take me out into the woods and allow me to watch as he hunted for the big ones.” My voice resonated sincere nostalgia across the shop. It was a place where tough guys came, but we all had moments of reminiscing. Moments that softened us just a little. “Since then, I got more interested in learning the ropes of hunting. Guns are my gems,

and hunting is my game.” I took pride as I spoke, my customer nodding as if he totally understood. He glanced down and shook his head as he studied the expensive, top-notch shotgun below us. “You are really good at this, Hunter. From what you said, it sounds like you’ve handled all the guns in this shop.” The man moved his fingers slowly along the tip of the gun, seemingly testing its sturdy structure. I kept my eyes on him, focusing my attention on the customer upfront rather than the sweet past. “I hope I can teach my son the ropes someday. Perhaps this summer break, I’ll take some time off and hunt with the boy.” It was an impossible, hearty wish. The shop would need me there to keep the doors open. It was a ball and chain, and though I loved it, it had surely become my life. No time to take off or relax. At least not yet. But in the future. Hopefully. “That sounds great. I hope you two have some good times and make some memories. I know me and my father did, as I did with my own boys.” The kind man yielded a sympathetic smile before tapping the glass between us. “All right. No way I’m letting this baby lie here any longer. I’m taking her with me. Ring it up.” I chuckled and nodded. I totally understood. The only thing better than a new gun was the warm arms of a good woman. Something I hadn’t had in far too long. Another happy customer always felt good, especially one who shared my same hobby. Seeing their satisfied expressions at the idea of trying out their newest toy was a bit exhilarating to me too. The business fit me well, and I it. After the guy had settled the bill, I packed the gun in a secured, safe case. I was in a good mood and enjoyed our conversation, so to thank him, I grabbed a bonus magazine and added it to his stuff. As I lifted the heavy cargo, he took it with both hands, his frail frame struggling to carry the weight of both the gun and the case.

“Thanks, man. I hope to see you around.” The man smiled as a final goodbye, his hands fully equipped with what we all considered precious cargo. I watched as he left and let out a content sigh. Life was good. I was doing what I wanted most days of the week. It was my nights that suffered. I turned to walk in the back and stopped short as a familiar, and annoying, voice rang out from behind me. “Oh, poor Hunter. Got lucky once again.” I turned to recognize the nuisance’s arrival. Garren. A best friend, and the worst employee I’d ever hired. He leaned on one of the shop’s columns, his arms crossed in a defensive stance. He looked bored with life, fed up with normalcy. He was looking for a fight or trouble, one or the other. The guy needed something to keep himself putting one foot in front of the other. I shook my head in slow motion, emphasizing my loss of interest over what he was to whine about now. “You’re late. Get your ass in the back and get the window cleaner. You’re going to have a long day, buddy,” I kidded. He smirked at me as he stood straight, walking closer to my desk. He was always giving me hell, but it was just part of his persona. I’d learned to live with it a long time ago. “If you’re running something as big as this gun shop, you better know everything about what you sell. You don’t gain a customer’s trust by simply drawing them in a heartfelt, dramatic story. That’s too weak of a strategy, coming from a man like you.” He pinned his name tag on the right chest part of his uniform and wagged his eyebrows at me. Asshat. “Keep going, Garren. Acting like you know something.” I snorted. “People buy feelings, moron. Not plastic and metal.” I walked toward my desk and dropped down into my chair. “Oh, really? What, are we all girls now?” Teasing me with his hand signaling for me

to attack, I smiled, got up, and pounced on him. I popped him in the face, grateful that no one was in the store at the time. We played too much, but it was another reason I enjoyed my job so much. “You better shut your smart-ass comments, especially if customers are around. They might believe your crazy ideas or you talking down about women. Your momma should whoop your ass for that.” I grabbed him and put him in a headlock, laughing as he tried to get out. After a few seconds, I released him and pushed his ugly ass away. “Is that all you’ve got, Garren? What a pity.” His eyes were filled with excitement. We’d been fighting each other since we were big enough to walk on two legs. He circled me, and I turned, watching him closely. He was desperate to get me down seeing that I’d been champion for a long time where our silly playful fights were concerned. “Look who is the champ in hand-to-hand combat.” I raised both hands on my side, flaunting my victory. Garren faked a few coughs in between his laughter. “Bullshit.” “What?” I raised my eyebrows waiting for him to set up and get pounced on once more. “Enough of this shit.” Garren rolled his shoulders and smiled sheepishly. “Everyone knows you’re the man. Stop walking around like a rooster, you idiot. You’ll have every woman in a ten-mile radius humping your leg.” He fist-pumped my hand and popped me in the chest. “Speaking of…when is the last time you got laid?” “Ouch! You hit me right where it hurts most. Fuck you for that.” I winked and changed the subject. My love life was a closed book…more like an empty book. “Anyway, you missed out on one satisfied customer.” I got busy, taking a few crates

behind the counter in the stock room. There were new deliveries already stacking up, and more crates coming in tomorrow. Business was getting better and better, Texas being a prime location to a bunch of hunters and gun enthusiasts. Being the only one to provide bad-ass weapons and top-notch hunting companions in our area, my gun shop was known everywhere around the state. “He looked pleased by your sales talk. Have you told him about Vince?” he asked, carrying a crate as he followed me into the stockroom. “Yeah, I did.” I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead before putting my crate down and walking back to the front of the store. It was fully furnished with a huge variety of guns, so many that it was hard not to be a little overwhelmed. It was probably the largest gun shop I had seen, and I was glad as hell to be a part of it. Another memory swept through my mind of my father, showing me his gun collection. Life was easy as a boy. I prayed my son thought the same. “You know how this shop began, Hunter. We both do. Your daddy had a dream, right, man?” I nodded, and he continued. “Hell, it’s been here as long as we have. Back when we were kids and shit, trailing along with our fathers during hunting season. Good ole’ days.” Garren had been one of those shy kids who came hunting with his dad during opening season, not fitting in at first. But we became fast friends because, just like me, he’d wander along behind his dad in awe, waiting to see the mountain of a man shoot another bird flawlessly. “Yeah, your daddy was a natural. He would be really proud to see that you grew up to what he wanted you to be.” He gave me a stern look. “You know that, right? He’d be proud of you, Hunter.” “Yeah. Thanks, man. You still suck.” I chuckled and leaned back in my chair as he started to arrange the guns that were on display inside the glass gun cases.

I just hoped that he was proud, indeed. “So, Vince’s bus will be dropping him off here after school?” He changed the topic, seeing the sadness and quietude in my expression. I looked at him and nodded. I almost forgot about it. “Hey, Garren. I’ll take the first lunch break, cool?” I wanted to buy something for Vince at the convenience store. Maybe his favorite chocolate bar or cookies? Chips. Damn, the boy loved chips. Garren paused and turned to stare back at me. His playful sneer threw me off a little like the fucker knew something I didn’t. “I guess that would pay off my tardiness.” He flipped me off and turned back around, continuing to arrange the guns in the cabinet. “Something needs to.” I looked at the door as two customers walked in. Time to get back to work. I stood up and greeted them. God, I loved my job. * It was late afternoon, but the gun shop was still packed with customers. Garren was busy attending to them, while I was working on the necessary paperwork for those who were ready to purchase. I glanced down to stamp one of the contracts, the seal of release and authorization to own a gun, and heard Vince’s bus pull up just outside the store. The little guy came running in a few seconds later. He was carrying his backpack and lunch box along with him, one dragging on the ground and the other flying wildly behind him. His face lit up as we locked eyes. “Daaaad!” he screamed with excitement like we hadn’t seen each other in a month. I

finished the last contract and gave it to the customer. Afterward, I stood up and spread my arms to welcome him. His tiny arms barely wrapped around me. It was the best relief I could find after a tired, busy day at work. “How did you do in school today, young man?” I asked, holding his bag and lunch box as we went to the back office. He jumped on the couch, reclining back and letting out a long sigh as if the weight of the world was on his little shoulders. “Today’s been a blast. Marion got caught cheating, Evan was the top scorer on the pop quiz, and Ashley shared some glazed apples with the whole class. You know Leila, Dad? She swung Tammy so high; she almost fell head first!” Vince’s eyes were shining in amazement, mesmerized by the things the world before him was to offer. I laughed at his stories and took out the package of chocolate cupcakes I had bought from the convenience store during my lunch break. “Here’s your snack, son. I know you love this kind.” I served the chilled, moist chocolate cake on the small table together with a carton of milk. Vince looked happy to see his snack for this afternoon. He took one of the cupcakes, smiled at me, and bit into the thing as deep as he could, covering his face with it. “My classmates were talking about summer coming soon, Dad. Some will go for a swim; others will go out of town. When they asked me what we will be doing, I told them my Dad would be up for something great and fun!” He was eating the cake as he spoke, his mouth full, but I didn’t care. He was too cute. Always had been. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride, my heart smitten with my little boy. “James even asked if I could tell stories about your heroic missions, but I told him that they were top secret.” He continued his meal, finishing the cupcake with a big grin on his face. His teeth were coated in chocolate icing, but it was all part of being a kid. I could not stop a hearty laugh as he tried to clean himself up and failed miserably.

Being a volunteer firefighter was another thing to add to the reasons why my son was proud of me. He thought of me as the town’s hero, being a strong man to face the fires. It was what a father hoped for. That was, for his son to become proud of him. “Dad, can we go to the lake and fish? I miss our time together.” His face suddenly turned sober. Those cute, innocent green eyes were begging me to answer him yes. It was difficult to give him the words he hoped for because it would be hard to take him there and fish tonight. “Hey, buddy, I really wanted to go fish tonight, but I’ve got a lot of work to finish up. You know I own this big old place. We’ll go as soon as I have free time, I promise.” I hated to disappoint him, but I was without options. It was me and Garren. We had a few part-timers, but the place was mine. All mine. He replied with a slow nod, disappointed. He forced a smile and hugged me, looking more grown up than he should have. I couldn’t help but wish for some relief, so a bit of time to spend just with him, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I’d been through a lot in my life and carried a shit-ton on my shoulders more times than I could count, but nothing was more difficult than being a single parent. Nothing.

Chapter 2 Kylie Grooving to the music playing on the loudspeaker was a hard thing to stop doing. It gave me an empowered boost while I was working. I could do my tasks all day, as long as my playlist boomed in my ear. The convenience store where I worked was chill most days and a great place to dance and read a good book. I fixed the items on the shelves as my mom and boss had instructed. It was a boring job, and one I’d done all my life, but I could live with it. The store served as the bread and butter of our family for years. As I placed the last set of noodles on the top shelf, my mother came storming out of the stock room. Pissed. “What the hell is that blaring sound?!” my mother shouted, frantic eyes searching the entire place to find the source of the music. I waved my hand to signal to her my spot in between the instant snacks section. I heard her rattling over the noise, her complaints overcoming the R&B music playing on the loudspeakers. “I told you a million times, Kylie! Keep the music down!” She kept her voice clear and audible over the loud sound. I pretended to be deaf to her claims, putting my hand over my ears. “I said lower the volume! You’re scaring customers away due to that noise!” She was screaming, her voice far too loud for the small store. Customers were looking at her, watching our little dramatic mother-daughter cat fight. Mom was old fashioned all the way, but it was her store. Period. “I think you’re frightening people away with the sound of your voice, Mom. Not the

music.” I hated to break it to her, but it was a fact. The customers closest to us nodded and smiled, agreeing with my honesty. She huffed and turned, walking over to the front counter. Before I could protest, the tunes changed from the blues to the great 70’s. I knew it. Mom was a die-hard fan of these beautiful artists creating phenomenal hits, but it was too old for this generation. All I could do was smile at the thought of my mother’s stubborn ways, her verdict being the last resort followed around our family. I walked toward the counter, taking my spot right after keeping the shelves stocked. My mother refilled the refreshments in the fridge as I approached her. “Maybe the music choice was the reason why you whined all of a sudden,” I teased her, wiping the fridge door to clear off the moisture. She grinned and made two thumbs up for me to acknowledge. “You can never go wrong with ABBA.” Sadly enough, and though I would never in a million years admit it, she was right. Singing through the chorus of Dancing Queen, she seized my hands and swayed me along with her signature dance steps. I felt awkward thanks to a group of customers watching us, but I swayed with her nevertheless. She was my mom, the superwoman of my life. “You can dance, you can jive! Having the time of your life, whoo!” We sang together and danced until the song ended. She laughed and threw her hands in the air, going from angry to blissful in a matter of minutes. But, that was my mother. Intensely complex. I stared at her beautiful yet wrinkled face. She was my first best friend, the center of my heart. I couldn’t imagine life without her and prayed like crazy that I would never have to live it.

“The party is over?” I asked and chuckled as she pointed to the back of the store. “Yep. Get back to work, slacker. And leave that R&B music for your private time. It’s horrid. Makes my ears bleed.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” “You love it,” she responded with a twinkle in her eye. “You better watch the counter. That’s your favorite spot in this store, anyway,” I kidded as she walked toward the counter, her face still flushed from both laughter and exhaustion. She winked at me as she tended the counter, waiting for customers to pay for their goods. The bell above the door jingled as someone opened the shop door. I smiled at myself as I refilled the fridge with some bottled and canned drinks, knowing my mom was putting on her customer service smile. She hated that shit, and yet it was necessary thanks to the business we were in. As I continued my work, a hand passed by my eyes and snatched a bottle of power drink from the newly filled fridge. “Sorry to startle you, miss.” The man spoke with a deep, gravelly voice. Without looking, I knew who it was. He was one of the customers Mom said we should look out for. The one she told me to keep a cautious eye on. I smiled at the man’s bearded, pale face. “No worries, sir. Need me to ring you up?” He nodded, a faint smile on his face. “That would be great.” I led the way to the counter, knowing that my mother would despise conversing with him. She was a frank woman and usually told it like it was. That wasn’t helpful in the world of customer service, so if anyone she didn’t think too highly of stopped by, I checked them out. Made life easier. Kept the shop open too. Mom glanced up, gave me a look, and walked to the back of the store, pretending to

stack the bread and pastries that I was going to work on next. I scanned his items and smiled. “Four twenty-eight, please.” “Yep.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out exact change. Something about his movements had my heart racing. He was weird on a good day, but something was off today. More than normal. “Thanks, sir! Please come again!” He turned his back without any response and left the shop. I felt a pinch on my arm to find my mother on my side, eyes big in disgust. “Ouch, that hurts!” I squealed, holding my arm. “What the heck, Mom?” Her eyes were still fixed on the door as if she were watching him leave. She waited until he was in his car to speak her mind. “Thanks. I really don’t like that man much,” she apologized while she patted my arm lightly. I gave her a puzzled look, skeptical of her thoughts. That man might look eerie, but he was one of our regular customers. “Why?” I had my reasons for thinking he looked odd, but I wanted to know hers. I smiled at the next customer in line. My mother packed the items I scanned while I tended the counter. “Something seems to be wrong with him. I don’t know. You know me, Kylie. My intuition has never failed me,” she replied, extending a bag of groceries to our current customer. As I continued with the next customer, I asked her once more. “Why? I don’t see anything wrong or bad about the man.” She finished packing the next guy’s groceries and turned to face me, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrow. “That’s what I worry over the most with you, Kylie. You only see the good in people, never the bad.” Her words struck me, but I

granted her a sweet smile. “Don’t worry, Mom, there are no bad people in this town,” I replied, keeping my eyes on hers. There had to be a way to calm her pessimist mind, but I’d yet to find it, and I’d been trying to help for the likes of forever. She shook her head gloomily and disagreed. “You know so little yet, Kylie.” She put a consoling hand on my shoulder and asked me to focus on my job instead. I did as I was told, seeing more customers inside our convenience store. One of those new pools of people coming in was Hunter Yonnie. He had to be one of the finest men in the whole damn city. Butterflies sprung up in my stomach, and I felt girly and young every time he walked into the store. That day, he wore a white shirt with his name tag pinned on his chest and faded jeans, his muscles pressing through his sleeves. Despite his simple attire, he was gorgeous, strong, confident. The way he carried himself left my body aching for his attention, but he was far too much man for me. His tough, manly front was reflected by his expertise in guns and hunting, but his quiet attitude made him stand out among the other guys in town. An enigmatic, young bachelor with a heart for saving other’s lives. Those hot, artistic tattoos inked around his arms exhibited his bad boy nature, but his heart was golden. We all knew it. He was a volunteer firefighter and the town’s favorite guy, never turning anyone away and always helping where he could. I wanted to know his story. All of it. Why was he still single? Because of his son? Despite me attending to the customers checking out, my attention was on him. I watched from the side of my eye, memorizing the strong line of his jaw and how fucking

good he looked with his 5 o’clock shadow. I’d had a crush on him for as long as I could remember. “One set of chocolate cupcakes, please.” He pointed to one of my mother’s homemade sweet treats. She nodded and took one, getting it packed up in a box and tying a ribbon on top for a dainty look. As my mother gave him the box, I stole one brief look at him again and held my breath. How many fantasies had I had behind my closed eyes, my body shaking as I came and moaned his name? Warmth raced up my neck to coat my face. Did he know how badly I wanted him? No. No way. It was a shame. He looked at me, a smile playing on his perfect lips. He knew. He had to. I glanced down to the counter and back up to the next customer in front of me, a bitchy old lady. It was more helpful than not to concentrate on her, but I couldn’t deny the thick vein pulsing in the side of my neck, the wetness between my thighs, the tight buds forming on the tips of my breasts. He had too much power over me, and he didn’t even know it. As I checked out one customer after the other, Hunter was the next in line. My heart started to beat faster, and I was nervous about making a mistake. He might realize my little crush on him, especially since he saw me checking him out. I mustered all the strength and confidence I had, posing the usual cheerful welcome I greet to other regular customers. “Good morning, sir!” I avoided his gaze and instead entered the code for the cake. He did not respond to my greeting but instead smiled at me as he waited. The awkward encounter was difficult to sustain, and, thank goodness, my mother intervened. “Is that for your cute son?” Mom asked, coming over and engaging him in small talk with him.

“Yes, Mrs. Tomms, it is. Anyway, I got to go. Thanks, Kylie.” He waved his hand as he took the cupcake box with him. This time, I followed my mom’s lead and let my eyes follow him out the door. “Kylie, why are your lips smacked together? Is there some glue that kept them shut?” My mother broke my silence, pulling me back to reality. I shook my head, suddenly aware of my daydreams. “No, it’s just that I did not know what to say to him. He leaves me flustered.” I checked out the last customer in the line, making sure no one was within earshot to hear our conversation. My mother laughed as her eyes filled with merriment. She knew my little secret. She had to. “Hunter has been your neighbor for years now. Yet, you have barely spoken to him. I bet you’ve never surpassed the two-word sentence to him. Have you?” “It’s not that easy, Mom. He leaves me feeling lightheaded. It’s not a conversation I’m having with you, by the way.” I shoved her mockery off, although she was right. She was always correct. I envied her observational skills and gut feelings. She aced anything she speculated about people, especially on her kids’ emotions and thoughts. “You need to break out of your shell, sweetheart.” She patted my back like I was a small child, not a woman approaching thirty in the next couple of years. “You’ll see; someday I can work up the courage to speak to such a mysterious and sexy guy.” A smile spread across her face. Damn. She had me cornered. She knew. Hell, she knew before I told her. She was intuitive like that. “I knew it! My instincts never fail. It’s okay; he’s a good man. I’m amazed how much he loves his son. Despite his busy schedule, he is able to raise Vince as a well-mannered,

clever little boy.” “Yes, he’s amazing. He can juggle plenty of roles without any problem. He’s a perfect guy.” My thoughts drifted away. Every woman in our town thought about Hunter…even some of the married ones. It was disturbing, and yet an odd comfort all at the same time. “True enough. Shame about Vince’s mother though.” I nodded. “Yeah.”

Chapter 3 Hunter Vince came out of the bathroom just before I started to go in to check on him the next morning. Despite his sleepy self, he managed to take a quick shower on his own. I could not be more proud of my little boy. While I took his school uniform from the dresser, he stood in his blue bathrobe, waiting for me to dress him up. “Hey, buddy. I have some good news for you.” I spoke to him as I put on his polo shirt. His drowsy eyes sparkled as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “What’s that, Dad?” He hurried to put his shorts on, though his excitement didn’t dampen. “I guess Dad can finally take you out on the lake this Saturday. We are going fishing!” I exclaimed, being excited as well to spend the weekend with my son. Giving him another promise was a gamble, but I couldn’t help myself. It might make or break him, being a father who promises too many things to his son that went unanswered. I could not disappoint him, but I want him to be happy, so I had to make it happen. Period. “Oh, thanks, Dad! You made my day!” He threw his arms around my shoulders. I hugged him back, grateful for his existence in my life. He was the bundle of joy I had wished for. Being around him made me forget all of my worries, or most of them. The loneliness inside of me never really seemed to go away, but it was getting more and more easy to ignore it.

“I guess we better get going. We don’t want the school bus waiting for you.” I stood up, taking his backpack and lunch box along with me. He held my free hand, and together we walked outside the house, going to the paved sidewalk to wait for his bus. “No way! I’m winning this year’s Most Punctual award!” “I’m betting on that.” Soon enough, the bus came to fetch the energetic kid. He hopped toward the door as it stopped in front of us, and I felt sorry for the bus driver. Every kid on the damn bus was hopping around and acting a fool. Vince took his seat nearby the window, and extended his arm outside and waved goodbye to me. “Bye, Dad! See you later! I love you!” he screamed as the bus started to move slowly. I waved my hand to him and smiled. “I love you too, buddy. Keep safe.” As I turned to return back to our house, I noticed the scattered grass and soil rooted up on our barn’s lot. The clean green pastures we tended were ruined. Probably the domestic hogs in the neighborhood scattered while we were out working in the shop. “What the fuck are those hogs up to?” My day dropped from awesome down to awful. I went to the garage and took out a rake, eager to clean up the mess done on my property. On the brighter side, this would pass as an easy workout anyway. As soon as I finished up cleaning the lawn, I went in and ran up the stairs to take a quick shower. If there’s one thing I should not be late to, that would be going to work. I needed to hurry, but the minute the water hit my chest, I was lost in the moment. Images of the sexy girl at the convenience store raced through my mind. Kylie. Why the hell hadn’t we said more than two words to each other? She stole my fucking breath every time I saw her. Long blonde hair that curled at the end, fair skin, and big blue ‘fuck me’ eyes. My cock hardened to the point of pain, but I

forced myself to ignore it. There was no way in hell I was getting involved with anyone. Vince wasn’t losing someone again. I wasn’t either. My body ached as I brushed my hands down my chest and stomach, forcing myself to hurry the fuck up. Another image of Kylie raced through my mind, and I groaned, stroking my cock and pressing my back against the wall. She couldn’t handle the thickness of my dick. No girl could. It was a pain in the ass that most women thought they wanted until they tried to wedge the fucker inside of them. Awkward. Embarrassing. All of the above. Picking up the pace, I gripped myself with both hands and pressed my hips forward, fucking myself over the edge with visions of the pretty blonde bent over in my shower, my hands on her slick skin, my head teasing her tight holes. “Fuck,” I cried out and came, the room spinning a little as I tried to catch my breath. “I did not have time for that shit,” I growled and got out of the shower, feeling so much better than I expected to. I made a quick lunch and ran out of the house with a sandwich between my teeth. I locked the door and jumped in the car, driving like a bat outta hell to get there before opening. I got to the shop just in time. After I had pulled the car into my parking spot, I ran in panting. Even with the hogs ruining the yard and making me late, I felt good. It was the release. It always helped. I needed to remember that shit. Garren was at the shop and on the phone when I arrived. I passed him by and got busy unloading the contents of yesterday’s crates. “You look like someone ran over you with a ten-wheeler truck. You look beat, dude,” Garren said as he walked up to help.

“I had a bad morning. Those fucking hogs just took a pit stop in my lawn and cultivated the grass. They left the green landscape with shit and soil.” Garren took my story with a comic approach, laughing the entire time, though no part of my story was funny. Cock head. “What the hell are you laughing at, Garren? This is some serious stuff. What if one day they come knocking on your doorstep and ruin your entire lot for you?” I snatched the gun from his hand, wiping the dust on its handle before putting it on display. “Just trying to make the mood lighter; you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios, brother. Shake it off, man.” He laughed once more, finding the brighter side of the abhorrent incident. I rolled my eyes and refused to laugh, but I cracked a smile, unable to help myself. He had the most hillbilly ass laugh I’d ever heard. “That hog’s shit was terrible. Good thing it is fertilizer to the land. Want some?” I turned the tables, kidding with him instead. He raised both hands to retreat, desperate not to be met with the foul-smelling fertilizer. “No fucking way. By the sound of it, they’re terrifying bastards too. Why not go hog hunting tonight? I could come along if you want to.” Garren offered, but it was a horrible idea. I had too much going on, and adding a new activity would mean sacrificing other relevant tasks. “Thanks, Garren. Let’s see what happens. If shit comes along once more, the hogs will not be granted a second chance.” I helped him out on unloading the guns and displaying them on the glass counters. He nodded at me with a smirk, agreeing to my decision. “That’s cool, Hunter. Just call me if you need a hand, and I’ll be there if hunting’s the game.” He stepped back to go to the stock room.

Before he could leave and take the other crates there, I called him out. “Garren, can I ask you a favor?” It was a hopeful wish, and Garren would always be my go-to guy. “Anything, man,” he replied, keeping his spot beside me. “I wondered if you could work on Saturday. My little man and I have plans to go fishing.” It was his day off, but I wished he could take the job for me. It was something demanding, but hopefully, he would agree to. “Sorry, Hunter. I got some plans for Saturday that I can’t break. If you had mentioned it yesterday, I might have been able to do it.” His expression was apologetic. I forced a smile. “No biggie. Thanks anyway.” I nodded as he walked toward the stock room, taking the other crates for us to unload. Disappointment settled in the center of my chest. Vince would be upset. More than upset. I’d just promised him that morning that we’d go. I cursed myself for saying anything to him. Fuck. His heart would be broken to find out that our fishing trip for the weekend was canceled, just like most of my previous promises. Thinking about things further, I realized that I was wrong. Vince would take the news with a positive attitude. My son had a wider understanding. He might take it positively, being the cheerful kid he was born to be. The only thing that bothered my conscience was him getting used to this setup. Being disappointed with broken promises, again and again, was a routine task between the two us. That was something I had to figure out how to stop doing. He needed to be able to count on me. Period. I needed to get my mind on something else. Like unpacking the never ending stack of crates that Garren had brought up from the stock room. The gun shop was busy with men and women looking for the perfect weapons, a way

to protect themselves. I loved watching their expressions when they found it. “Your shop really is the top one in town. Even the citizens outside Mesquite come all the way here just to check out your vast array of quality guns.” Garren was pumped after the large number of customers we just finished serving. I looked at him with a grin and granted that his words spoke of the truth. Just after I counted the day’s earnings, Vince’s bus stopped in front of the shop. I stood up to welcome him as he came running toward me. I gave him a bear hug as he leaped into my arms, ecstatic to see him. “Dad, look! I got five stars from Miss Diane!” He showed the back of his fist which was stamped with five red stars. I kissed his cheek as I expressed my congratulations. “Good job, Vince! You’re getting more intelligent than your Dad,” I teased him, taking his backpack and lunch box just like I usually did. I took him to the back office so he could rest and eat his snacks. “Dad, can I take some crackers when we go fishing? I want to take some snacks as we drive to the lake!” He took his shoes off before he laid on the couch, resting his head on the comfy, cartoon pillows. I frowned, realizing the fact that I needed to update him regarding the postponement of our weekend getaway. “Um, speaking of that,” I began, not sure what the hell I was going to say. “I can’t leave the shop this weekend, buddy. Sorry, but I think the fishing trip has to wait.” The thing I feared the most began to come to life. The sadness on his little face consumed his jolly expression. Despite hearing my words of disappointment, he spoke like an adult and regained the smile he lost. It was almost sickening to see him acting far above his age. With all we’d been through, I understood it, but it hurt nevertheless. “It’s okay, Dad. That means I can read my books over the weekend and get more stars

this coming week.” He sat up and hugged me, assuring me that everything was fine. I felt ashamed. I had been known as a man of great reputation for raising my kid well all alone. Little did they know that I was also lucky to have a superb kid who loved me so much. “In the meantime, Garren brought some apple pies today. They’re in the fridge if you want some.” He smiled at me and nodded. “I’m a big boy now, Dad. I can get it myself.” I laughed at his words, patting his head gently. “You’re truly are a big guy now. I’ll be in the shop if you need anything, okay? I love you, buddy.” I stood and waited for his answer. “I love you too, Dad.” Vince was smiling, but his tone was sullen. I rested my back against the door right after I closed it, saddened by my son’s reaction. I could not do anything to fix the situation though. It was heavy on my heart to see Vince’s disappointed eyes, but I had to get back to work. “If you plan on hurting your son’s feelings, you should scrap that scheme. He is a good boy; he doesn’t deserve to be sad. Just tell him the truth or maybe set your shit up before you tell him anything. Come on, man. You’re better than that.” Garren walked toward me, leaning on the counter facing the office door. He was grinning at me, but his eyes were sympathetic. “I know, man. Believe me. I feel like shit every time I have to let him down.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I just thought I could get it covered.” I let out a long sigh. “But I fucked up…again.” “Hey, man. I guess Vince and you need someone in your lives. You can’t go on like this forever. It would be less burdensome if you could find a woman who could help you both in work and in raising your child.” It was clear what Garren was trying to imply. I threw him a sharp glare, unhappy with his suggestion.

Seeing my silent response, he shut his mouth and excused himself. It was probably the smartest thing he’d done all damn day.

Chapter 4 Kylie Staring at the clock had become the bane of my existence. My phone buzzed, saving me from myself; it was just Bailey, asking me if I could stop by her house for a late afternoon snack. As her best friend, there was no refusing her. Especially not when I could see Cat, her little girl. She had all of us wrapped around her fingers. Waiting for my break to end was hopeless. It was too soon to leave, plus my mother couldn’t handle the entire convenience store alone. Although no one had come in for what felt like ages. I stood up from the stool, leaving my spot at the counter to walk toward my mother. She was reading a romance novelette while waiting for a customer to attend to. Hearing me approach her, she spoke without moving the book that blocked her face. “What is it, Kylie?” she asked without bothering to look over the book. “Mom, do you think I can leave early today? Bailey texted me, hoping I could visit her and Cat today,” I asked although it was a greedy thing to do. Leaving her alone would mean she had to close the store by herself, but it had been long since I met up with Bailey. I hoped I could get to see her. “Oh, is that so?” she asked, wiping the beads of sweat on her forehead. After folding the page where she was reading, she put the book down. Finally, her eyes met mine. It was hard to decipher her expression, but she was good about saying what she meant and saying it often.

“Okay. You can take the rest of the day off.” She smiled at me sweetly, destroying the skepticism in my head. It felt wrong to leave her behind, guilt consuming the rest of me as I stood there. “Are you sure, Mom? Can you work around here by yourself? I could cancel meeting up with Bailey if you need me around,” I asked once more, hoping for her sincere answer. Instead, she pushed me out of her spot and laughed at my pitying look on her. “Don’t you believe in my multitasking skills? I could ace the job, even with myself alone!” She smiled again, pushing me more out toward the exit. I forced a weak smile, unsure of her decision. She was decisive about it, but I felt like she needed me around. She got tired way too easily, but whatever. I’d asked, and she had responded. I was out! “It’s really fine, Kylie. You worked hard today. Get outta here before I change my mind.” “All right. I love you,” I called over my shoulder before jogging to my car. Freedom. Finally. * I walked into Bailey’s house, and Cat raced toward me, yelling in her high-pitched little voice. For a moment, I thought she was going to run into my arms and greet me warmly, until I caught Bailey running behind her. They were playing hide and seek. I scooped Cat up into my arms, carrying her as she giggled happily. The two-year-old daughter of my best friend was like my own child too, being the most adorable kid I knew. She clung tightly to my neck, giggling hard as Bailey teased her about taking her out of my arms.

“You two seem to have some cool Mom and daughter time,” I spoke in between babble speech with Cat, who was still having fun over my goofy company. She was smiling sweetly, her cute baby cheeks pinkish in color. “Yeah, you know how the word fun defines the time we spend together.” She took her from me, Cat finally recovering from her breathless giggles. Bailey closed the door as she led me inside, offering me to sit on their couch. I shoved all the stuffed toys to the side and dropped down. “It’s been weeks since we had a decent conversation. Catch me up! What’s the buzz around town?” Bailey looked at me with a happy grin. I grinned back, staring at her beautiful face. “You know, just the usual. The store’s been doing fine. Mom’s great as ever too. Bossy, but she stays true to who she is.” I shrugged and smiled down at Cat, who was on the floor, laughing at something on TV. “Great. That store’s been there through thick and thin. I’m amazed how your momma has kept it running so long. She’s a wise businesswoman for sure,” she replied, complimenting my mother’s hard work. It was true. Her unending sacrifices and extreme efforts to maintain the operation of our convenience store for years were the reasons it was still open and thriving. “Yeah. I even felt guilty today. She pushed me right out of the store right after I asked for her okay to leave. With only the two of us manning the entire place, I probably shouldn’t have asked to leave. I just wanted to see you after you texted.” I leaned back and let out a long sigh. “To feel alive for a minute.” “I know a good way to feel alive.” She smirked, and I swatted at her. “Not that I’ve had a man around for a while, but I hear that if they’re good in bed, life is just better.”

“Oh, Lord. Back to the store please.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. I’d dated a few guys, but no one worth keeping around. The only man I could even hold in my fantasies long enough to undress was Hunter. He haunted my dreams regularly, and I did far more than just undress him. “You know, it’s pretty amazing that you and your mom have kept that store going with just the two of you. And the damn thing is growing. Business is doing well, right?” She lifted an eyebrow at me. The expansion of our store was unstoppable. Since my mother was able to raise some cash from both her business and her previous field work as a nurse, she expanded our store. There’s one thing she wanted in life – to work full-time at the store, at a place she owned herself. Crazy enough, she’d pulled it off a few years back. I couldn’t be more proud and inspired. “Yeah, but it raised some problems along the way. One of which was the problem with hiring outsiders. Mom wanted to keep it in the family. But that’s too difficult, considering that I’m the only child, plus the fact that Dad is gone.” Bailey looked at me with a pitiful glance. I was growing weary, as was my mother, but she knew what she was doing, and I trusted her. “When Cat gets a little older, I can volunteer her to work in the convenience store. I hope Irene would not object to that since I’m a part of the family by heart.” Her beautiful smile cheered me up, followed by Cat’s cute babbling. “By the way, Hunter came by yesterday.” I spoke in a timid voice, recalling our weird standoff. I could still feel the fast beating of my heart as I imagined his beautiful eyes staring back at me. Bailey looked at me with a grin on her face, waiting for the next details of my tale. “And? I can feel something juicy happened.” By the look on her face, she knew me

all too well. I could feel my cheeks flush, burning a bright red. I bit my lower lip before uttering another word. “Nothing too fun. He talked to Mom for a second, and I studied him like a stalker. I swear I feel like I’m 16 again when he’s around. Her brows were raised, waiting for something more, but there was nothing to give her. It was pathetic, to say the least. Even Cat looked at me with a bewildered look. “And?” Bailey urged me on. “Please, dear God, tell me you said something to him.” “No, but he looked at me too?” I buried my face into one of the cartoon pillows, horrified of my embarrassing encounter. I sounded like a child and felt like one. If anyone knew the naughty thoughts racing through my head, including Bailey, I’d die where I sat. Bailey burst out laughing and slapped my leg. Even Cat laughed along, without any idea of what was happening around her. “That hottie seems to get the best of you. You act like you’ve never been out with a guy. What’s the deal, Kylie? You’re beautiful and single. Why wouldn’t Hunter Yonnie look at you? I bet he jacks off to the thought of you. Jeez!” She pushed my shoulder and shook her head. “You have no idea how pretty you are.” “Not this again.” I smacked her with the pillow in my lap. “He’s a single dad, and he acts about ten years older than me. He’s insanely hot too. Either way, he’s way the hell outta my league. Period.” “You need to do something about your big crush on Mr. Hottie. Someone else is going to sweep in and steal his heart if you don’t. Get to it!” “No way. He’s way too handsome, muscular, attractive.” I wiped at my chin, afraid that I might actually be drooling. “But God, I can’t seem to get him off my mind, especially since yesterday. His green eyes and sexy smile. Dark brown hair and that great

tan.” I groaned. “And his hands are so big and strong looking. Can you imagine?” I paused and took a shaky breath. “So, you’ll get all dreamy instead of doing something about it? Look at you. You’re totally into him.” She wagged her eyebrows all sexy like. “You should go over to his house and pretend to ask for some sugar, hoping he comes out naked. At least then you can see him in his full glory. You know, really check out the goods.” She laughed, but I knew she was only half joking. I did need to step out of my shell. “Yeah, that’s what a good neighbor should do.” I smirked, imagining him naked and dripping with water like he just stepped out of the shower. I’d die right there in front of him. Just keel over dead without a word. He’d lived next to me for the better of six years. I needed to find a way to use that to my advantage. Instead of hiding in my house, maybe going out to plant a garden in short shorts? What was the point? The fucking hogs would just tear it up. Wait…the garden wasn’t the point at all. I glanced up to see that it was getting late. Bailey needed to get back to Cat, and I wanted some time to myself to think about whether I had the nerve to do anything about Hunter. It was doubtful at best. “I better get going. Thanks for having me here.” I kissed my best friend’s cheek. She stopped me from going and insisted that I eat dinner with them, but I refused her kind offer. “I promised I would eat dinner with Mom tonight. I can’t disappoint her. You know her.” I laughed before kissing Cat’s soft cheeks. She kissed me back and hugged me with her tiny arms. I patted her head before I turned my back, waving my hand as Bailey and Cat watched me go. “Thanks, see you soon!” I scrambled for my keys in my pocket as I stood before my

car. As I got in and smiled at the two of them. “Take care, Kylie!” Bailey and Cat were waving goodbye, standing on their front porch watching me back out of their driveway. As I drove away, I thought of Hunter. I definitely needed to do something about my crush on him. My mother and Bailey both had the same valid points. I needed to work up my courage to speak to him before I regretted it. There were a million women who wanted his attention. So, did I think trying to get it would be easy? Or that he’d want to pay me attention? I didn’t. That was part of the problem. Drifting on to different ideas made my trip home quick without me realizing it. I pulled into my garage and waited in the car, leaving it running. A strange, unfamiliar car rolled past the front of the house, giving me the creeps. It looked like the guy, or whoever was driving, was checking the area for something or someone. I got out of my car and walked toward the road, deciding to ask the driver if he was lost. My mother would have had a fit if she knew what I was doing, but she wasn’t there, and people were inherently good in my opinion. As I walked toward the car, it sped off, leaving me standing there looking like an idiot. Strange.

Chapter 5 Three Days Later Hunter “I think I need to go hog hunting as soon as I can. Those fucking hogs keep on destroying my lawn. I’m getting tired of cleaning up their shit again and again.” I dropped the box I was carrying, pissed off at the terrible mess the wild hogs had made of my yard again. It had only been three days since the last fucking time. “Count me in, Hunter. I am dying to get some game down on the ground.” Garren was a certified hunting enthusiast. Pairing up with him on every hunting trip enabled us to take home a lot of game. As we picked up the boxes to restock the displays, he stopped. “So, when do you plan to take down those filthy hogs?” I thought about it. I wanted to slay those thugs as early as possible, ending their reign over my property. They had done so much damage and needed to die. Not to mention, the wreckage they’d made of Kylie’s place too. Hmmm…it was something we had in common. I’d bring it up next time I saw her. Give us something to talk about. For all the women in town trying to vie for my attention, the one girl who turned me on ignored me most days. It was fucking comical. It was my life. “I would like to get rid of those pests as early as I can. If you can’t make it on Saturday, perhaps on Sunday?” I asked, continuing to walk by, to which Garren followed behind my back. Putting the boxes down, I took the contents of the boxes and arranged them.

“I will still be out of town on Sunday. Maybe on Monday?” He wiped the glass counter, keeping his eye on the task. I nodded and continued working. “Sounds pretty good to me.” Just before we finished our task, I heard Vince’s bus pull up to my gun shop. Vince came running along inside, the big grin on his face consistent even after he gave me a tight hug. “How was your day, buddy?” I asked after Vince loosened his embrace around me. Once again, he showed me the back of his fist, five stars stamped on his hand. “Teacher said I did great on today’s performance test! She loved how I recited the poem!” I smiled at him, kissing his forehead. He was doing a great job in school, even though I was busy all the fucking time with the shop. The same guilt wrapped around my heart, reminding me of the broken promises I’d made. He deserved better. “How about I buy you some ice cream and chips? We can watch one of those cartoon films you like afterward. Would you like that, buddy?” I asked, trying to make up to him all the things I said that went to waste. His innocent green eyes grew big in amusement. “I would love to! I want to watch the one with the huge dinosaur in it, then the boy who can fly, then after that the dog who can speak to humans, then…” He kept on reciting the ones he wanted to watch, getting his movies lined up in order. I looked at Garren, who was watching us the entire time, smiling to himself as he spoke to a newly arrived customer. “Man, can you fill in for me?” I whispered, keeping my voice toned down so as not to disturb Vince, who was still enumerating the list of films he wanted to watch. Garren nodded, telling me he could take it from there and close the shop on my behalf. I mouthed him a brief thank you as I took Vince’s belongings and grabbed his hand.

“Alright, Mister Big Stuff. Let’s get out of here.” Vince skipped happily as we walked toward the parking lot, excited for the fun we had planned. As we approached the car, he took me by surprise. With those tiny arms wrapped around my legs, he looked up at me. “You are the best Daddy in the world.” My heart melted. His approval meant the world to me. “And you are the most wonderful son in the world.” I patted his head before he ran to the other side and got in, crawling up into his booster seat. I opened the car and started the engine, staring at his happy face as we drove away from the gun shop. Vince watched the view out the side window, and I took in the scenery in front of me, mesmerized by the peaceful and serene town we lived in. I couldn’t help but chuckle over Vince’s excitement over our upcoming movie marathon. The little tike had to be tired after a long day at school, but he faked it well. His energy was at the top of the meter, excited for whatever was yet to come. I took a quick stop at the convenience store to purchase some chips and ice cream, or so I told myself that was the reason. I really wanted to see Kylie. My body hardened just thinking about her. “Come on, man. Let’s get some treats for our evening together.” “Yes!” He got out of the car and held my hand as we walked toward the store. We walked in and he pulled me toward the freezer section, finding his favorite ice cream flavor. He opened the freezer and took out a gallon of cookies and cream, grinning at me with the most adorable expression ever. “Dad, can we buy this one?” he asked. I liked the flavor he picked though, so I nodded and put it in the basket. He walked on, searching for the chips section. I followed him, searching for the ones that were not too salty for us. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for Kylie and hoping like hell she

might be there. I hadn’t seen her when I walked in, but the place smelled like her perfume. That I knew the scent was a quick sign that I was in trouble should the pretty girl ever pay me a little bit of attention. I’d have her bent over a table or moaning my name in the shower the second I saw a way to make it happen. And it wasn’t just about sex, but sex was all I had to give at present. Vince had to come first. Period. Vince picked up three packs of potato chips, asking if he could take them all. I smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “We can get them all, but some will need to be put up for next week. That work?” I smiled down at him. He agreed, promising to eat junk food at a minimum. We continued our stroll through the aisles, grabbing some grape and cranberry juice to restock our fridge. I took some salad dressing from the shelf, planning on making some greens for later. Vince would love it too. The kid ate anything. Everything. I wished I could cook better. Garren’s words raced through my head. He thought I needed a woman around the house. He was right…I did. For so many reasons. I just wasn’t ready yet. “You good with everything then?” I asked him since I got everything I needed in our cart already. He nodded and smiled, his eyes glistening. I held his hand as we stood at the end of the line. After the person before us had checked out, I noticed that it was Mrs. Tomms who took the spot at the counter. Her kind smile greeted me, taking the contents of the basket to scan on the computer. “You brought Vince along today.” She smiled down at him. “Hi there. You’re getting so big. Pretty soon you’re going to be all grown up and big like your daddy here.”

“I hope so!” Vince waved at her, smiling brilliantly to greet her. “We’re having some movie time tonight. A movie marathon.” I patted his shoulder as I spoke with Mrs. Tomms. “Has Kylie said anything to you about the hogs tearing up her yard? They’re wrecking mine something awful.” It was the only way I could think of to see if the beautiful woman was working today. I didn’t want to be too inquisitive. It was her mother in front of me. “She hasn’t mentioned it.” She gave me a knowing smile. Shit. “She was here, but she ran an errand for me. She should be back soon. I’ll ask her for you.” “Yeah. Thanks. Just concerned about it.” I gave her a sheepish smile. I was caught, or so it seemed. Where I wasn’t looking for a date, her momma didn’t need to know that. I was a good guy or hoped I still was. After so many nights alone, I was starting to second guess myself. “Here are your shopping bags. I hope you two will have some fun time tonight.” I took the paper bags from her. Vince took the small bags, taking the initiative to lessen my burden of carrying the groceries all by myself. “And for you, little boy. Here’s a free treat for being a super good kid.” Mrs. Tomms reached over with a lollipop to Vince, giving him a freebie before we left. My son bowed his head a little and stared at his free treat, grateful for Mrs. Tomms’ generosity. “Thanks, Mrs. Tomms! This sure is one of my favorites!” He put the candy in one of the shopping bags, carrying two small, light shopping bags on his arms. He skipped happily as we walked out of the store. “Thank you again, Mrs. Tomms.” I turned to face the kind woman before we went out of the convenience store. She replied one last time with a smile on her face. “Have a nice day!”

Vince’s held up the lollipop, silently asking if he could have it. I nodded and smiled. “Fine. Just don’t eat too many snacks before dinner.” “I won’t.” He pulled the wrapper off and licked it like he was starving to death. “Dad, I like the woman who worked in the store.” “Yeah, the Tomms are good people. They are kind.” I spoke to him, picturing Kylie in my mind. She was also like her mother, kind and loving to the people around them. Maybe me asking her out or showing her attention was wrong of me. She was a good woman and needed someone who was looking for a relationship, but fuck…she was two years younger than me. She wasn’t a girl, but a well-developed woman. Why was she single? Did she have someone in another town? I had a million questions all of a sudden. “Oh, I did not see the young lady in the shop today. Where is she?” His eyes were curious. I began to think about him recalling Kylie. He seemed to remember her. Well, she was one remarkable woman, and beyond beautiful. Even the boy had noticed. “Yeah, her mother told me that she had to do something. It’s just her and her mom working in the store.” “Hmmm…just like one day it will be just me and you at the gun shop?” He smiled and watched me closely. “That’s right, buddy.” I reached over and ruffled his hair, loving him like crazy for all of his innocence. I was blessed by two things in my life: him and the shop. Now all I needed was a woman. A girlfriend. A lover. A wife. A mom for Vince.

Chapter 6 Kylie I wrapped up my errands and finished helping at the store before heading out to meet up with Bailey again. We were making up for lost time. She and Cat wanted to go shopping for the afternoon, and I was all for it. It had been forever since I’d bought myself anything. Pampering myself seemed a little much, but it wasn’t like anyone else was going to do it for me. I strolled through the shopping center of town, walking alongside Cat. Her tiny hand was soft and smooth in mine. I wanted kids so damn badly, but there were no prospects. Not even Hunter. You had to talk to someone before you started practicing making babies. At least I thought you did. Who knew…I’d never slept with a man and had a few boyfriends in the past, but nothing worth remembering. I’d be a virgin forever in my own mind. “This would look good on you, Kylie. Check it out.” Bailey pointed to a dress worn by a mannequin. It was a black, sexy dress that would outline the full figure of the woman who wore it. I grimaced at her, put off by her suggestion. “Really? My breasts are too big for something like that. And if I managed to make them look smaller, my ass would embarrass me. Stop acting like we’re flat teenagers again. We’re not.” I gave her a look. She burst into laughter. She stopped walking and pulled me inside though, compelling me to try the dress on. I stopped, seeing as it was impossible to escape from her persuasive

ways of doing things. “Can my friend try that one on display?” she asked one of the salesladies, persistent to see me in that sexy dress. The woman in uniform gladly affirmed, taking one of the stocks on the clothing racks. “After I try it on, can we leave? It’s too sexy for me,” I whined, ashamed of what was yet to come. She gave me a look that resembled a mad mother toward her kid, knowing what’s best for her child. “I’m telling you, you will rock that dress! Believe me; I’m a hundred and one percent sure about that. Right, Cat?” I looked down at her young daughter who nodded at her mother’s query, uncertain of what Bailey really meant. I exhaled heavily, nodding in defeat. The saleslady came back carrying the dress. She led the way to accompany me to one of the dressing rooms so I could see how the dress fit. I looked one last time at Bailey who sat in front of the dressing rooms, waiting with Cat who sat comfortably on her lap. She signaled two thumbs up, but I rolled my eyes before closing the door. “What a pretty dress.” I held it up, studying the cut of the seductive thing before me. It was a backless, figure hugging dress with a low neckline. It was tailor made to fit snugly to the figure of whoever wore it, highlighting the assets and curves of any and every woman. It looked fabulous on the mannequin, but I wondered how it would look on me. I was never comfortable with my own body. Where I wanted to be thin and sleek like a model, I was anything but. I stood in front of the mirror, studying my body. I looked about as worn out as I felt. Being busy at our convenience store filled my schedule, as well as my time for selfpampering and amusement.

I unbuttoned the checkered shirt I wore, eager to try the dress on all of a sudden. I hadn’t done anything nice for myself in far too long. Despite me saying I wasn’t interested in the dress in front of Bailey, deep inside I wanted to try it on. It was one of those pretty dresses women would stop and stare at during window shopping. It was beautiful, elegant and sexy. I unzipped my loose, tattered pants, taking them off to strip down to my panties and glanced up. Would Hunter like what he saw? My breasts hung heavy, full, pretty. My waist was small, but my ass… I groaned and turned a little, hating how much of my skin poured out the sides of my panties. I had enough junk in the trunk for a group of men to share. The chilly air conditioned breeze tingled my bare skin. I immediately moved to put the dress on, careful so as not to damage any part of it. After fixing the thin straps on my shoulders, I took the time to study myself again. I gasped, seeing my own reflection. I barely recognized myself. A woman of fine, mesmerizing beauty stood before the mirror. The perfect curves of her body defined her captivating charm. Undeniably, men would glance for a second look just to witness the goddess that walked on earth. The immaculate fair white skin complemented the black dress, exposing a luscious and flawless complexion. Her golden blonde hair fell just under her breasts, its curls adding extra impact on her entire alluring ensemble. Those long, unblemished legs were inviting. What the fuck? Could a dress really make you feel so damn good? This one did. Yep. I had to have it. Period. “Hey, Kylie! Did it fit you well? Cat and I wanted to see!” She spoke over the door, bringing me back to my senses. I stopped looking at my reflection and turned the dressing room’s knob. As I opened the door slowly, Bailey’s eyes glowed in delight.

“I told you, Kylie! It looks great on you! So freaking hot!” Even the saleslady gave an approving look, stunned by its fit on my body. I felt my cheeks flush for a moment, unable to believe that I could look this good. I guess those pants and cowboy shirts covered my body that I myself barely knew I had. “If only I had the same body, I would buy all the sexy and pretty clothes I could. Unfortunately, these saddlebags loved me so much that they did not want to leave,” she joked and reached for Cat’s hand. “Thanks, my friend. I’m not sure what to say. I’ve been dressing like a cowgirl for so damn long that I forgot how good this feels.” I ran my hands over my hips. “I love it. I feel pretty.” “You should. Get the dress for sure. If you won’t, I’ll buy it for you, and you don’t have to pay me back. That looks totally perfect on you. Do it,” she whispered, smiling at me giving me no other choice. “Okay. I’ll get it.” I smiled and closed the door, my heart light and burdens gone for the time being. Maybe I should find my courage and talk to Hunter. I had a few things I could bring up…like those damn hogs tearing up our yards. He was the owner of a gun store. He could shoot them for us. Yeah…that’s what I could do. Anything to get in front of him. I returned with my checkered blouse and tattered pants again; I held the dress over my arm. I directly went to the cashier to check out. Bailey and Cat stood outside the shop, carrying a shopping bag from the store we were in. I walked toward them, meeting my best friend and cuddly goddaughter outside the shop. Cat was pointing over to the ice cream stand, begging for her mom to buy her one. “Yeah, Cat’s right. We need it on this hot afternoon.” It was late afternoon, but the sun

was out and in full effect. It was late spring, but it already felt like summer. While we walked toward the ice cream stand, I noticed how she struggled to carry her daughter and bring her bags all at once. I volunteered to hold the bags to ease her burden, to which she agreed. “Thanks, Kylie. That saved my ass a lot.” She pulled Cat up and cuddled her. Cat smiled at her mother, pressing her mother’s cheeks with both of her tiny hands. “I know I don’t ask you often…” I trailed the words, searching the nicest ones to address my curiosity, “but don’t you want to find someone special?” She frowned. As we stopped and recited our orders to the ice cream store attendant, she answered my query. “You know how things worked out for me and Marco. All the shit that happened in our relationship. Most men are nothing but trouble. I can’t risk my heart again. Not yet at least. I’m not ready.” She had a point. Too bad her previous marriage ruined her perspective about men and relationships. So, what was my problem? I’d never really had a bad relationship, just boring ones. There hadn’t been a guy in my past worth sticking with, or even thinking about once it was over. Thoughts of Hunter rolled through my mind. His career choice was dangerous, as were his hobbies. Such a daredevil. A brave kind of man with strong hands and a fearless spirit. Hot. Maybe taking more risk would be a good thing. It made him who he was. Interesting. I felt my body warming and turned my thoughts. The last thing I wanted to do was get turned on in public. Brother… After we had finished up our ice creams, we decided to go home. I parted ways with Bailey and Cat at the parking lot, got in my car and drove home.

Thoughts began to flash before my eyes. I imagined myself wearing the dress once again. What if Hunter saw me in it? Would he finally notice and like me then? I shook my head and focused on the road. Anyway, he’s my neighbor. I could peek in the windows and see him out in his barn. He often cleaned the place without any shirt on. A little eye candy during the mornings, he was my buzzing espresso. I looked at the digital clock on my car’s dashboard. It was already 6:08 p.m. I hoped he was finally home, but I guessed he was still busy at his gun shop. I just hoped I could see him. As I slowed down in front of my house, I realized that my front door was wide open. My heart skipped a beat. “What the fuck?” Without a doubt, I remembered triple locking the house before I left that morning, but now it was unlocked and open for anyone to enter. I called 9-1-1 on my phone and locked the doors in the car, parking out in front of the house. Fear raced through me. Someone might attack and abduct me if I showed up outside without a weapon: not that I would know how to use the damn thing anyway. “9-1-1. What’s your emergency please?” “Hello? Please come by my place. Someone broke into my house.” I enunciated my address to the police and the details of the surroundings of my house. They advised me to go to any nearby neighbor’s house and stay. Seeing Hunter’s lights on, I knew he and his son were inside. Shit. I had no clue what to do. I sat there, lost in indecision until the sound of sirens filled the air around me. As the cop car pulled up, I got out and walked toward him. Hunter’s door opened, and he walked out in jeans and a t-shirt, his shoes off and his hair a mess. Had I not been terrified of what I was going to find in my house, I would have stared

him down with unabashed intent. He was beyond gorgeous. Vince jogged up beside him, reaching up and taking his hand. My heart melted. How cute were the two of them, living life together? “Hey. What’s going on?” Concern crossed Hunter’s handsome face as he walked toward me. “You okay?” “I don’t know.” I glanced over at the cop car. He’d pulled right up to the house, and two of them had their guns drawn and were going into the open front door. I jumped and yelped as Hunter squeezed my shoulder. “Hey. It’s just me. I’m sorry.” He gave me a warm smile. “You okay, lady?” Vince asked, reaching up and slipping his hand into mine. “You look upset.” I smiled down at him. “I just got home from shopping all day. Well, working and shopping.” I glanced over to Hunter, not quite sure why I felt the need to tell him that I was working. I was such an idiot sometimes. “The house was open. Like the front door was wide open.” I let out a soft sigh. “I saw someone driving around the other day, and it seemed suspicious. I don’t know. I just called the cops.” “Good. You should have.” Hunter released me as his eyes moved across my face. “Come on. Everything’s going to be okay. Come with me and Vincent and let the cops do their job.” He extended his hand toward me, and I took it without question. “Come join our movie night!” Vince yelled with excitement. We were just making popcorn. “No, buddy. She’s gotta lot going on. Let’s just help her through this, and if she wants to come over after the cops leave, she can.” He gave me an apologetic look, stealing my heart for the millionth time. I’d never been in his house, but I loved the idea of going over

there now. I was freaked the fuck out. “Are you the owner of the house?” A cop walked toward us. I pulled my hands away from the guys and walked toward him. “Yes. I’m Kylie Tomms. This is my house.” Hunter moved up beside me, standing close as if he were ready to protect me from any and everything. He had no idea how much it meant to me. “Detective Jones. We found nothing lost, Ms. Tomms. Although one of your windows was smashed, we can’t find any trace of the object used. Still, we will investigate the evidence left behind.” Although nothing was taken, I still felt unsafe going back in there. “Thanks, Officer,” I replied as I watched the other officer head back toward the house. Hunter was still by my side, listening the entire time. “Well, damn. First the hogs and now this.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Come over to my place for the night. I know we barely know each other, but we’ve been neighbors for six years. It’s the least I can do.” “No. I’ll just go stay with my mom. I don’t want to be a burden, and honestly, I don’t feel safe staying here anymore.” “You’re not a burden, and you need to stay here. That’s the best thing to do during this situation. That way if they come back, we’ll both be watching for them.” He looked concerned. Come back? I swallowed hard. “Hunter, is your gun shop open tomorrow? Can I come by?” I managed to work up the courage to speak to him, far surpassing my two-word record before that night. It was irrelevant at this point, my head still thinking about the threat to my life and property.

“Yeah, sure thing. I’ll be there all day,” he replied, looking at his son who was holding his hand tightly. He was watching the cops moving around my house, checking all the details they could use to trace the culprit who broke my window. “Great. I’ll come and buy a gun. I always thought our neighborhood was safe. Maybe things have changed.” I thought of the town we lived in. We knew almost everyone around, and I could not say anything bad about the people who lived in Mesquite. Perhaps outsiders had planned on robbing our houses and getting away without getting caught. “You sure about going to your mom’s?” There was a neediness in his voice that surprised me. Maybe I was making it up. Did he want me to spend the night? Sure felt like it. “Yeah. I need to see her. She’ll be pissed if I tell her about it tomorrow and she knows I didn’t come over there.” I offered him a kind smile. “Can you keep an eye on the place? Please?” “Yeah, of course. Come by tomorrow and I’ll get you set up with a gun and teach you to use it.” He licked the side of his mouth and studied me. “And I’ll be right here next door all the time, anytime, if you need me.” “Me too!” Vince chimed in. “And I’m tough like my daddy!” I felt my cheeks burn, grateful for his kind offer. After smiling down at Vince and agreeing, I waved goodbye, got in the car, and left. The police officers would take things from there. I needed to tell my mother anyway. She should be told what happened. She might even scold me for not telling her as soon as I could. My mind raced with the possibility of what could have been if I slept over at Hunter’s. Would he have given me the bed? The couch? Access to his body… Fuck me, I

wanted to lie down next to a brave, strong guy like him and let my worries go. On the way to my mother’s house, my head began to drift away to deep thoughts once again. My chest still beat fast, unable to process the things that happened today. Never did I think that things like this would happen. It was my first time talking to him really, and though it had been centered on the robbery, it was still a conversation. I had to think through what we might have in common, which didn’t seem like much. Maybe I would focus more on him, give him a chance to talk about what he loved? I didn’t give two shits about what we were talking about, just that we were in fact talking. I was in love with my neighbor, and if I was being honest with myself…I had been for a long, long time.

Chapter 7 Hunter “Wake up, buddy. Let’s eat our breakfast.” I shook Vince’s leg, inviting him to join me in my early meal. He stretched and yawned, his tummy sticking out of his shirt. He seemed to have outgrown his clothes. He sat up while rubbing his eyes. I picked up him and kissed his cheek. “Good morning, buddy.” He wrapped his arms around my neck, resting his head on my chest. “Did the cops find anything last night at Miss Kylie’s house?” “No, buddy.” I pressed my cheek to his forehead and carried him to the living room. Despite the craziness of the night before, we’d had a blast together. The dark circles under my eyes were proof of our fun movie marathon. We stayed up until the wee hours of the morning with Vince falling asleep on the couch as we watched his favorite cartoon movies. He lifted his head up and sniffed. “I’m hungry, Daddy. What are we having for breakfast?” “I’ve made a pile of blueberry pancakes, and of course your favorite too.” “Bacon?” He untangled his hold on me and pushed at my chest, forcing me to put him down. He grinned and took off toward the kitchen. I walked in lazily to find him sitting in his favorite chair at the dining room table,

swinging his feet merrily as he waited. I made it quickly and fixed myself on too before sitting down in front of him. “You like it?” I picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite as he tore into his food. The little guy wasn’t going to be little if he kept eating so much, and so fast “Love it. You’re a great cooker, Dad.” He licked his fingers and smiled, his innocence drawing me in deep. I ate my meal, hungered by last night’s tiring fun. I almost finished my plate when Vince spoke, asking about yesterday’s incident. “Dad, what happened yesterday? Why were there police officers at Miss Kylie’s house anyway? What were they looking for? Clues?” He took another bite of his food and watched me with wonderment. I wasn’t sure what to tell him, but the truth seemed like the best answer. He was too smart as it were. He’d figure that shit out on his own without me. “Bad guys broke into her house yesterday, Vince.” He looked at me with a worried look, putting the fork down on his plate. “Dad, are bad guys around here? Near our house? Will they come here too?” His eyes widened as he shrunk back in his chair. “No, buddy. Those bad guys won’t take a good boy like you. In case they come, I’ll wrestle them down and punish them hard. Nothing to worry about with your dad right here, okay?” I patted his hand and made sure he was okay. A smile replaced the skeptical look on his face, the little tike probably grateful to hear that he had protection he could count on. He took his fork and continued eating, speeding his pace up so he could help me clean around the house. Right after we finished the household chores, Vince and I prepped to go to the gun

shop. It would be hard since Garren was out of town for the weekend, but we could handle it. I’d manned the shop a million times by myself over the years. After securing the lock, we left the house and drove off in the direction of the gun shop. I couldn’t help but glance back, not sure if I’d find Kylie’s car there or not. Nope. Good. She didn’t need to be alone for a few days. My stomach tightened at the thought of her coming to stay with us. She wouldn’t, but I sure as fuck wished she would. So beautiful. Perfect. I forced myself to focus on the road and made small talk with Vince as we drove the rest of the way up to the shop. He held my hand as we walked into the shop, and a big smile spread across his face as the bell above the door jingled. “I like this place.” He gave me a curt nod and took his backpack with some books, crayons, toys, and snacks in it and walked away. He sat on the desk as he watched me clean up, right before customers started pouring in. Weekends were always crazy. “Are you okay there, buddy?” I asked every now and then, making sure that Vince was occupied until the end of the shop hours. “Yeah, Daddy. I’m coloring this book until the last page today!” he exclaimed, excited to finish the book off. He was humming happily as he kept himself busy, behaving well while seated at my desk as I continued to work. As customers went in and out of the shop, I thought of Kylie. She said she would come today and buy a gun. The thought of seeing her left my pulse spiking. What was it about the woman? Had to be her unassuming attitude. Or maybe the fact that she was the only woman in town who didn’t throw herself at me. It left me wanting to test the theory that she was pure, untouched. How beautiful would it be to have her open herself up to me? To trust me with her body. With her heart.

I served customers until I could not count, yet there was still no trace of her. Did she forget? Had she changed her mind? Why was I even thinking about her? I should focus on the work in front of me, not on her. It was a busy day, and getting sidetracked was doing nothing but slowing me down. Just when the sun was about to set, I spotted Kylie coming in. Unexplainable relief flowed in my veins, and my heart skipped a beat. It was a little disturbing. How long had I wanted to get to know this woman, my neighbor? The peace of mind I experienced was a little out of place, but I knew it was from the innate need to protect her. I kept telling myself that it was because I was a good guy. Besides, helping her get a gun was the best help I could offer, especially after the unknown break-in that happened the day before. “Hi.” She raised her hand, speaking in a shy tone. She looked nervous as hell. Was it because of all the guns around? Did she feel threatened instead of feeling safe? Or was it me? I leaned on the glass counter, greeting her back. “Hey.” I lost all thought and couldn’t remember what the fuck else I should have said. Her pretty face left me falling into silence. Those perfect blue eyes were deep, drawing me into her. Thank the heavens, she kept the conversation running. “So, as weird as it sounds, I think the break-in incident yesterday was a sign. I thought about it a million times, but I finally decided to do something. So, yeah, I’m finally buying a gun.” She smiled shyly, looking far too cute for her own good. She was bright and pretty, and I could not take my eyes off of her. That day when she caught me staring at her in their store was embarrassing, and yet I’d do it again a million times. “So, tell me then. How many guns have you had?” I kept my eyes on hers, still dazed by her beauty.

She shook her head, her fair skin rosy on her cheeks as she answered my question. “I had never had one. Not even held one my entire life.” She bit her lip gently, looking down on the display of guns. She was avoiding my gaze. Heat raced up my chest and coated my cheeks and throat. She was so damn beautiful. My body hardened at the thought of pressing her to a bed beneath me. It had been a while since those feeling came around. It threw me off for a minute, but I found my voice and tried to play it cool. “Interesting. I will help you find a match.” I moved around, searching along the displays to show her some of the guns I would recommend. She followed my direction, looking at the displays as well, seeking the one gun which she would like to learn more about. “How about this one?” She pointed to the one .45 ACP semi-automatic pistol. I took it and held it before her, telling her more about her first pick’s features. “Good choice. Actually, this one is made for ladies. For self-defense. Although I doubt it is for new gun owners like you. Not the sort of gun that a beginner would pick for her first time.” She nodded, her lips parted into a little ‘O’ as I spoke. God, even her lips were divine. My thoughts turned naughty, and I had to pull myself back from a fantasy of watching her suck the head of my cock, drinking me down as I let myself go for her. Just her. “I guess that’s not the one for me then.” I put the gun back as she checked out the other guns on display. She stopped walking as she spotted one that seemed to capture her interest. She pointed to the sleek metal .357 caliber revolver that was on the front of the display. “Nice. This one’s pretty hardcore, but easy to handle. You can load six bullets in it

though. Limited slots. Still, it is easy to use and, as you would imagine, quite effective,” I explained, keeping her amused with my words. She looked impressed, her eyes smiling at me. “Hardcore, hm?” Was that flirting? Fuck. It had been too long. I honestly couldn’t tell. I smirked at her, waiting for her further picks. “Yes, ma’am.” “What about you, Hunter? What would you recommend for me?” she asked, her voice playful. Flirting. Definitely flirting. Finally. Those natural red, sexy lips curved into a smile, matched by the deep blue eyes she possessed. She was catching me again, trapping me inside her charm and control. I licked my lips and glanced down at the case. “If I were asked, I would pick this.” I moved away, walking near the end of the case. I took the Glock 19 Gen4 (9 mm Luger) out, being the perfect fit for her soft, delicate hands. “This is perfect for you. Self-defense gun with a lightweight, easy to handle body. Also, you can use it without any problems with your left or right hand. The expanded magazines will allow you more bullets. Look at it.” I extended the gun over to her, allowing her to inspect and scrutinize the gun’s grip and aesthetics. She studied it with keen concentration, as if it were a precious artifact being examined. After a few more seconds, she gave it to me and smiled. “I’m taking it then.” I led the way toward the desk, where Vince was still busy coloring the few last pages of his book. He glanced up and smiled, standing up and walking around the counter. “Miss Kylie. How are you?” Her eyes brightened. “Good, Vince.” She knelt down. “How are you today?” “I’m great.” He reached out and touched her cheek. I went to scold him, but she put

her hand over his and smiled. “I was worried about you last night.” “Well, thank you. I stayed with my mom.” She patted his hand and stood, turning back to me. “Kylie, I’m sorry,” I started, but she cut me off. “Don’t. I think it’s precious.” She glanced down at Vince and back to me. “How much is it? The gun,” she asked. I looked at her eyes and knew I was going to have to ask her out. I’d been pretending for a little bit too long that she didn’t matter, that I wasn’t totally turned on by her. Fuck me for waiting so long. “Never mind paying. It’s free. Take it as a gift from me. You needed it anyway, being the only help I could offer to your situation.” Words escaped my mouth before I could stop myself. It was a kind deed, something innate inside of me I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Her cheeks were flushed again, colors of roses spreading on her fair skin. She looked enticing and innocent. She was one of a kind. “Thank you, Hunter. I can’t thank you enough.” “Of course.” Hearing my name on her lips made me smile. I handed over the papers secured in a brown envelope, plus the gun packed in a safe, sturdy kit. Seeing her struggle to carry the box, I took the initiative to offer a hand to her. “Lead the way.” She waved at Vince and turned to walk to the door, her hips swaying so subtly. Her ass looked good in her jeans: thick and big. More than enough for me to wrap my hands around and squeeze softly. So perfect. Every part of her. My cock was thick and hard by the time I walked out of the shop with her. Being a big guy, I knew she was going to be able to tell where my head was if I didn’t hide my shit. She unlocked the car door, directing me where to put the kit inside, and moved back.

I laid the box on the passenger seat as she watched me remove the dust from my hands. “All right. Be safe, and if you need me…I’m right next door.” I smiled and turned to walk back to the shop. “Hunter,” she called after me. Chills rose on my skin thanks to the softness of her voice. “Yeah?” I glanced back but kept my body turned toward the door. Fucking hard- n. “I hope you won’t mind teaching a novice like me how to use this thing.” She looked beautiful. How could I deny the attraction I felt for her charm among other things? I smiled at her as I nodded. “With pleasure. You can come to hunt some filthy, stubborn hogs with me and Garren on Monday night to test run your gun.” She giggled. “Sounds fun.” I walked back into the shop but turned to watch her drive out of the parking lot. After I had lost track of her vehicle, I turned to find Vince sitting back at my desk, coloring the last page of his book. I stood beside him, watching his artistic prowess come to life. “Dad, Miss Kylie is kind and pretty. I like her a lot.” As he spoke, his eyes still darted on the cartoon he was coloring. I patted his shoulder gently, giving him a commendable praise for his hard work in coloring the book. “I like her too. She’s a good lady.” “How about you come hog hunting with us on Monday night? Miss Kylie is coming with us to practicing her shooting.” I offered my invite. “It’ll be dangerous, but I think between you, me, Kylie, and Garren, we should be safe.” He faced me, his green eyes sparkling. “Are you kidding me? We’re a team. We won’t let anything get to Miss Kylie. Especially them pesky hogs!”

Chapter 8 Kylie “So, you got a gun yesterday?” my mother asked, repeating the statement I just said uttered moments ago. Her hands were on her hips, her brows wrinkled in a questioning expression. She looked pissed. If I would enumerate the things on my list why I should not buy a gun, one of would be my mother’s objection to them. “Yeah, Mom. It’s for the best.” I tried to change her point of view, but it was useless. “Well, if that’s the case. I can’t do much about it.” She let her hands drop to her sides, retreating over our argument. She looked calm yet still peevish, but I knew I could handle her temper. Sort of. I reached out and took her hand, looking into her eyes, although she avoided my gaze on her. She was truly beautiful. Her golden blonde hair was tied in a neat bun. Although the wrinkles from her age spread on her face, she was still alluring. Why she hadn’t married again after Daddy died was a mystery to me. “Don’t worry, Mom. I will only use it for self defense. Nothing bad will happen. I have to be able to protect myself. Right?” “I guess so.” She squeezed my hand and gave me a small smile. “I’m just worried. You might be in danger by merely having a gun. I’m scared. That’s all.” I put my arms around her. “I thought about it all night. I think having one would give me protection, plus Hunter gave it to me for free as a gift, and I’m not sure if you know

this, but I was raised to never reject a present, Mom.” She released my hold and covered her mouth in surprise, her eyes coming back to life. She was staring at me like I was nuts. “What? Really? So, that explains it. Hunter gave it to you. Enough said!” She pushed my shoulder lightly, teasing me. I could not help my blush, but I managed to gather my confidence and tell her more. “Yeah. I’ll see him on Monday to learn to shoot the thing too.” The tables seemed to have turned. My mother was now the stunned one, speechless as to how to respond. She looked impressed by my news. As if I had finally found my courage. And I had. Sort of. “Wow, I can’t think of any word but wow,” she said. “But you got to keep your gun hidden. I’m serious, Kylie. You should be very careful from now on. My view about you owning a gun has not changed. I disapprove of it a lot, but I understand the need for you to protect yourself.” She pressed the topic, reminding me again and again of my responsibility. As we conversed, a customer at the front counter joined the conversation. “Your daughter is right, Mrs. Tomms. Having a gun nowadays is a necessity, especially the fugitives that are out of control. It’s always good to have protection. No one can tell when the need arises. Better safe than sorry.” I smiled at her as I checked her out, shooting my mom a knowing grin. “I told you so,” I whispered as I packed the woman’s items up. After giving her receipt and bags, I crossed my arms and faced my mother with a smirk. She rolled her eyes, turning her back to walk through the store. “Why don’t you stay at the store on Monday? I need some help around here. Also, we could eat dinner together

at home. I will cook your favorite stuffed chicken if you want.” Her back was to me, but her voice resonated her worry. I knew her all too well. By the way she lured me to stay on Monday, she was hoping I would cancel with Hunter. Not a chance. “Mom, I already committed to Monday with Hunter. I’m not canceling on him. We’re going hog hunting that night. That will also give me the chance to train. Plus, his son is coming along.” “What? You shouldn’t go, Kylie. Who the hell goes hog hunting at nighttime? Practice shooting under the moonlight, when there is nothing but darkness around? And tugging a five-year-old kid along to watch the entire violent animal shooting? No way! You’re not going along.” She was decisive. Her fists were curled into a ball, her eyes ablaze. Telling her about Hunter’s plans was a big mistake. She was overreacting and had to be the most paranoid person I knew in life. “Mom, it’s fine. Hunter and Garren are skilled hunters. I know they are well aware of the land at night. I’m in safe hands. And I hate to point this out, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Mom. I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m going.” “I’m your mother, Kylie. No matter how old you get, I will always be the woman who knows what’s best for you. Believe me, I know it’s definitely dangerous to go along with Hunter.” She was calmer, but her eyes were frightened. “Sorry, Mom. I’m going, but I promise I will stay safe.” I turned to face the next customer who was ready to check out at the front. I was surprised to see that it was the man mother hated the most, one of our regulars. His face was pale as always, the bags under his eyes getting bigger and darker. He looked awfully eccentric, but upon seeing me smile, he returned a crooked smile. I

scanned the barcode of the item he bought, which was a bottled energy drink. Too bad he settled on something to hype him up. He needed a sleeping pill, from the looks of things. “You should be careful,” he spoke as he handed his payment to me, his eyes fixated on the bill he was handing over. I looked at him and nodded, thanking him for his reminder. “Um, sure. Thanks?” “I heard your house got broken into yesterday. Sorry to hear about that.” The man turned his back, refusing to get the receipt of his purchase. He gripped his drink tightly as he exited the shop, not saying another word. Weird. How did he know that my house was broken into by burglars? I looked at my mother who was sitting behind the pastry stand, her head bowed down as she pretended to be busy reading a novelette as the man left the convenience store. I glanced toward the window, watching the man walk further away as a chill raced down my spine. With one last look from afar, I caught him looking at my mother, whose head was still down pretending to read her book. Who is that man? And what the hell does he want?

Chapter 9 Hunter Sunday was spent doing the same drill as Saturday, just a little slower. After a long day, we closed up and headed home. It felt like I blinked twice and it was Monday morning again. Time to start another week, but this one would have more of Kylie in it. A little after lunch, Garren walked through the door carrying a duffel bag around his shoulder. He was not wearing his uniform. Instead, he wore a white shirt and faded jeans. “So, you like being called Day Late Garren, huh?” I watched as he approached my desk, putting his bag under the one the desk at the counter. He looked tired and didn’t seem too excited about me poking at him. What else was new? “Sorry, man. I just got back into town. Too bad the bus schedules were delayed.” “No problem. I hope you have not yet forgotten about our hog hunting game tonight.” I studied him, wondering where the hell he’d been all weekend. We were good friends, but neither of us pried into the other’s life. Just didn’t seem right. “Oh, yeah, sorry, Hunter. I totally forgot. Man, I got a date tonight with some hot chick I met on the weekend.” He scratched his head and sighed. By the looks of things, he’d had a few too many beers the night before. Damn. “No big deal, Garren. You better not disappoint the girl.” I patted his shoulder as I turned my back to him. Several customers filled the gun shop, buying guns for shooting and hunting season

over the rest of the afternoon, leaving me happy and the cash register full. As the late afternoon approached, I heard Vince’s bus stop before our shop. Garren was busy attending the customers when my son came inside, walking slowly, simply dragging his feet to come to my side. Seeing him in that state, I got up from my desk and walked to meet him in the center of the shop. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?” I took his backpack and lunchbox to ease the weight he carried. Vince looked pale, his eyes drowsy and a little red. As I held his forehead, it was hot. He must have caught something. “I’m okay, Dad. Look, I can still dance the chicken song we performed today.” He moved along, trying to dance, but the poor thing looked like a limp noodle wiggling. He looked awfully sick, and he needed to take a day off. I guessed the hog hunting trip would be canceled. First, Garren failed to make it. Now Vince has gotten sick. “Vince, I’m afraid we can’t go tonight. You need to stay at the house and get some rest. That chicken dance must have done you in, boy.” I smiled and kissed his forehead before holding his hand as we walked together toward the back office. “Better keep yourself hydrated. Do you want to eat some cookies?” I watched as he opened the bottle, drinking a little water, but not nearly enough. He refused to drink more, putting the bottle on the table nearby. “No, Dad, I’m still full.” He seemed to relax on the couch as he closed his eyes. Soon enough, he was fast asleep. I stroked his hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead and neck. I checked his lunchbox. It was almost untouched. I guessed he had lost his appetite, and his headache would have ruined his energetic, cheerful nature.

Before I went out of the back office, I looked at my son one more time. He was sound asleep, but he still looked pale and sick. I turned to Garren who was still serving some customers. I came near him despite Garren conversing with our loyal patrons. “Is Vince okay? He looked pale and sick,” Garren asked before I could utter a word. “He’s got a fever. The hog hunting needs to be moved to a later date, I guess. Hey, buddy, can I talk with you when you’re done?” “Sure.” Garren nodded and finished up with a customer before joining me near the back. “What’s up, man?” “Hey, sorry about this, but I need to take Vince home early.” I hated to ask him for more help, but I had no choice. “Yeah, man. No problem. The date will be at nine, so I still have time.” “Thanks, man.” I patted his back, grateful for his help. Without him, I did not know how I could juggle the roles of being a father and a business owner. I went to the back office to get Vince and his stuff. I took his backpack and lunch box first, taking them to the car, after which I came back to carry my son. He was peacefully asleep, almost undisturbed as I lifted him up. As I walked closer to the car, Vince raised his hand and spoke in his sleep. “Hooray, hog hunting tonight.” His voice was tipsy and weak despite the excitement he seemed to try and muster. I kissed his forehead before I closed the car door, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. I drove as fast as I could thanks to Vince panting softly behind me. Worry left me feeling sick. Every now and then, I checked him from the rearview mirror, finding him sound asleep. “Dad, let’s go to the lake and fish,” he whispered roughly from the backseat.

“Absolutely, buddy. Get better, and we’ll go.” We got home and I took him to his bed, changing his clothes and rinsing him off with a wet towel. He appeared comfortable. Poor little guy. Assuring that he was already better than when he arrived at the gun shop, I stood up and went to the kitchen. Chicken noodle soup would help. It had to. As I started to gather the ingredients, I heard the doorbell ring. I walked to the front door to see Kylie waiting out front. She wore a long sleeve blouse tucked into ripped jeans, completed by cowboy boots. She was ready to hunt. And, man, was she goodlooking. “Kylie. Hey there. Come inside.” I opened the door wider and moved back. She walked in and smiled back at me. “You okay? You look a little overwhelmed.” “Yeah. Just trying to get some soup started for Vince. He’s not feeling too well.” I shrugged. “Oh no.” She put the gun case down. “Let me help then. I’m a great cook.” “Really?” Relief filled me. “Come on. I’m not going to deny the help. He’s asleep right now, but I’m hoping he wakes up a little later and eats.” “Is it his stomach or something else?” Her voice was so soft. I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew how seductive she sounded. Was she trying? No, not with me telling her about Vince. “Fever.” I walked into the kitchen and went to the fridge. “I think I have everything we need.” She went through a list of items, and I pulled them from the fridge. I hopped up on the counter next to her and watched as she started to construct the soup from scratch. “You okay?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just had a long day, and then Vince getting sick.” I shrugged and forced myself not to reach out and touch her. There was something so inviting about her. “You look nice, by the way. So pretty in your hunting gear.” She laughed, the sound warming me. “This?” She glanced down. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” “Do.” I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. “So, Garren told me today that he has a date tonight; the idiot forgot about the hog hunting we had scheduled for this evening. I guess it doesn’t matter seeing that Vince isn’t feeling well. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. We can do it another time.” She turned to face me and smiled. “Besides… you’re right next door. If something goes wrong, I’ll just run over here.” “I’d like that.” I reached out and tucked a long strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear. “And honestly, once we get the soup made, I can take you out to the barn and teach you some basics about the gun. We’ll just leave the back door open so that I can listen for Vince.” “No, you don’t have to do that. Really. I’ll come back when the little man is feeling better.” I wanted to fall in love. She cared more about me, or really Vince, than herself. “It’ll be fine. We’ll load the gun, and I’ll show you how to handle the weapon.” She blushed, and I couldn’t help but wonder where her mind was. I knew where the fuck mine was. The opportunity to get closer to her was undeniable. I’d be using it to my advantage for sure. “Okay. If it’s not too much for you, I’d like that.” She was smiling sweetly at me. No trace of disappointment on her pretty face. I took a deep breath and stared at her, allowing myself to enjoy how much she turned

me on as she worked in the kitchen. “And how about you come by tomorrow so I can teach you how to use your gun during the day? A gun range would be a perfect setting to train in, don’t you think?” I asked. “Yeah, that sounds like a deal.” She stirred the contents in the pot as the smell of heaven lifted up around me. My stomach growled, and we laughed. “Guess Vince isn’t the only one that needs something to eat.” I hopped down. “Let’s go spend a few minutes in the barn and then I’ll get a bowl and see if he’s up to eating something.” “All right. It needs to cool anyway.” She turned and walked back to the living room, bending over and getting her stuff. A groan lodged in my throat at how good she looked bent over the couch, her pretty ass in the air. I had to have her, period. We checked on Vince and walked through the rest of the house in silence before I pushed open the back door. “Here, give me your hand.” I reached for her hand and pulled her close to my side. “It’s dark out here. I don’t want you falling in a pothole or something crazy.” She snorted, the sound so damn cute. “Hunter Yonnie. Are you hitting on me?” “And if I am?” I smiled over at her, not sure she could see me in the dark. “I like it,” she whispered, and my body reacted violently. Was she innocent? I couldn’t tell anymore. I led her around the barn to the big back door and opened it for us. A spacious area opened up in front of us where I kept all of my stuff needed for target practice. “Wow. I’ve never thought you used this. It’s so nice.” She looked surprised, her small mouth opened in a tiny ‘O.’ Those luscious, full lips were inviting me, calling me to lean

in closer. It was getting darker, but this was just perfect to hone one’s skills better. Anyway, the post lamps were bright enough to give her the light she needed. “Are you sure I can do this?” “Yeah. After trying it, you’ll be surprised and want to do more. It’s addictive, Kylie. A lot like you.” I stopped and put the box on top of my working table, taking the gun out of its case. “Me?” Her voice was airy, light. I decided to change the conversation. I wanted her so fucking bad it hurt, but she would have to come to me. I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with her. Not yet at least. She stepped to my side to watch, but I ceased the show and gave her the unloaded gun instead. “Now, show me how you hold a gun.” I wanted to see how difficult it would be to teach her the right way to handle a gun. Surprisingly, she did a great job. She had a tight grip on the handle with both hands, her finger on the trigger. The way she held the gun, her stance, and her build made her look sultry and hot. I tried to focus, but thoughts of taking her on the table in front of us filled my head. “Great. Now, I’ll show you how to unload the clip and clear the chamber.” I tried to shove my lusty thoughts away, but it was fucking impossible. God, she was messing with my hormones. She gave the gun to me to demonstrate. She nodded, her lips parted again as a content moan left her. She did that shit on purpose. Had to have. I could feel the sweat on my forehead, making me feel the heat of the situation. I could not take my eyes off of her body. The topmost button of her shirt was open, allowing me a peek at the creamy tops of her perfect breasts. She bent a little toward the

table, doing what I just did. “Am I doing it right?” she asked, still leaning on the table. She was staring at the faraway target, but my eyes were only on her. “Yeah, good job,” I mumbled as desire raced down my back and caused me to ache. “How do I aim?” She smiled sweetly at me. Little did she know that I was stripping her in my mind, wanting to touch every inch of her, to fuck her long and hard until she promised to be my girl. Fuck. What’s the matter with me? “Nice question. Here, I’ll show you how.” I moved to press my chest against her back, forcing her to stand in front of me for the tutorial. I wrapped my arms around her waist, my skin touching hers. My cock thickened and began to twitch, begging me to let him loose for a little while. The pressure of her round, full ass pressing against my hard erection left me dizzy. I was sure she felt it, but I did not care anymore. Lies. She had to feel it. I was gifted with the biggest cock I’d ever seen and had been told far too many times that same truth from other women. “Hunter,” she whispered low and soft. “What are you doing?” “I’m trying not to strip you naked, pretty girl.” I leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. “You’re driving me wild. It’s hot as fuck in here, and I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do to you.” So much for letting her come to me. “Tell me what to do.” She turned in my arms and pressed herself against my chest. “I’m inexperienced. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” She licked her lips, her eyes wide and filled with need. “I want you too. Please.”

“Unbutton my jeans. Let’s start there.” I slid my fingers into her hair and leaned down, consuming her with a scorching hot kiss. She began to unbutton my pants as her breathing became ragged. She pulled back from my kisses and moved to her knees. “I want to taste you.” “Yeah, you do. Just be careful. I’m a big guy.” I touched her hair as she pulled my pants down, taking my boxers with her. My cock sprung free, all ten inches stiff and thick. Her jaw dropped as she glanced up at me in shock. “I know, right?” I smiled and gripped my cock, brushing the thick head over her lips. I wasn’t sure if she knew what to do, but she was a quick learner if nothing else.

Chapter 10 Kylie There were no words for the size of Hunter’s cock. Never in my life had I ever seen anything so big. So thick. Not even in the naughty porn movies I watched late at night by myself. My pussy contracted as I leaned in and ran my tongue over his thick head, sucking at the salty flavor of him. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, holding his shaft as I put his head in between my lips. Struggling to wrap my mouth around him, I jerked his shaft as compensation for not taking him whole. My body screamed for penetration, but it would be my first time. I had no clue if I could fit a regularly-sized man inside of me. There was no fucking way he was fitting. I stared at his eyes, keeping my attention on his facial expression as I sucked him. I used both hands to jerk his shaft as I flicked my tongue over his thick head. Was I really doing this? It was like every sexual fantasy I’d had was sudden coming true. He stroked my hair, gathering the strands altogether into his fist. He watched my every move as I offered him pleasure, working hard to keep my hands around his thick shaft. As I released the head, I licked it fervently. His precum tasted bittersweet, something that I wanted more of. He bit his lip and groaned loudly as I moved down and sucked one of his balls into my mouth. I had no clue what I was doing, but I let instinct take over and promised myself that if nothing else, I wouldn’t shy away from the moment.

He moaned loudly and pulled me up, lifting me to sit on the work table. He moved the gun and put it back in the case right before he spread my legs wide, his hands strong and possessive. He positioned himself in between my thighs, undoing the buttons of my shirt as he kissed with fervor. His lips were hot, skilled, and well experienced. He was nibbling my lips alternately, moving from my lower lip then to the upper one. His tongue fought its way inside, pushing himself to battle with mine. I got the chance to catch his tongue with my control and suck it furiously, emulating the long pulls I had on his cock a moment earlier. He was moaning against my mouth, his breathing turning heavy and fast as I continued dominating his mouth. He pressed his hard cock against my soft center, teasing me with his throbbing erection. His huge cock poked my stomach, tickling me as he moved back and forth. So big and thick. I glanced down, licking my lips as he captured my face and forced me to look back up. “You like it?” I reached out and stroked up. “I love it.” It was excessive, insanely large. Too much for me to even try and fit inside of me, yet I was soaking wet with lust. I was going for it. Consequences be damned. As he pulled on my lower lip, he reached around and unhooked my bra. My tits bounced, exposing me as he coveted me with his eyes. He tugged my pants down, opening the buttons and unzipping them to leave me with my tiny panties on. The front was soaking wet. “God, Kylie. I’ve thought about this a million times. Tell me to stop.” He cupped the side of my neck and kissed me before moving down to lick at my nipples. “I want to be inside you so damn bad.”

“Don’t stop. Please?” I begged and reached between us to stroke him again. “Just be careful with me.” He glanced up and smiled. “Is this your first time, sweet girl?” “Yeah.” I leaned back and spread my legs wide. “I want it with you.” “I don’t have a condom, but I won’t come.” He gripped his cock and brushed it down the side of my panties as I moaned loudly and arched my back. “I’m going to be careful, but I’m huge, Kylie. Tell me to stop if it’s too much, baby.” “I will.” I bit my lip and watched him as he slipped his fingers under my panties and spread me open, pressing two fingers into my heat. I’d fucked myself with up to four before, so I knew it wouldn’t be too bad; at least I hoped it wouldn’t. He pressed against me once more, his head pushing its way to nudge my drenched panties. My underwear was already soaked in pussy juices, excited about him without us starting anything yet. The anticipation of his big cock inside of me was driving me insane, making me feel nothing but heat as my passion flowed inside my veins. He tugged my panties down and smiled. “So beautiful. Slick and wet.” “So ready for you,” I whispered and pressed down as he ran his cock head over my swollen lips. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” “Such a good girl.” He smiled and pressed in, filling me with far more dick than I could handle. I cried out and gripped the edge of the working table, preparing myself for what was yet to come. He pulled out and ran his cock over my lips again before pressing back in a little. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his pink, throbbing cock. Ten inches and far too wide to consider measuring.

I ran my hands along his torso, pulling his gun shop’s shirt uniform up to reveal his muscular and toned body. His abs were well formed, maintained, and developed, which was an evidence of his active lifestyle. I caressed his body as he stroked my pussy lips, teasing me for a few more seconds. “You want more?” I moaned and forced my hips down, taking more of his thickness inside of me. “Please? I want it all.” “Greedy little thing.” He smiled and leaned closer to me as he held my legs apart. The soft press of his lips on mine felt right. As he kept me busy on our kisses, I felt his huge, thick cock push its way into my gentle opening. My hands seized his back, surprised by the intense sensation and pressure. So much pressure. “Hold on, Kylie. This is going to hurt a little, baby, but it will be so good once I get past this point, okay?” I nodded and looked up into his eyes as he thrust, driving himself deep inside of me. I screamed, but the burn faded into bliss as he massaged my tight channel with his dick. He pushed his cock once more, struggling its way to penetrate my tight, little pussy. I bit my lip and tightened my grip as he thrust more, getting a part of his shaft inside of me. He took the advantage and moved in slow, huge motions, pushing his way deep inside of me. I couldn’t fight the powerful sensation that washed over me. Never had I felt this way, a sublime pleasure of orgasm all at once. I felt his hands fondle my breasts, kneading them in rhythm to his thrusts. Pinching my pink nipples and seizing the plump flesh of my breasts, I could feel the wave of my orgasm building deep inside of me.

As he penetrated my pussy more, Hunter increased his speed and vigor as he fucked me. His huge, thick cock filled me, stretching me, forcing me to open up to fit him. I felt the spasm of heat traverse my body, moving its way down to my waist. I fought the exceptional sensation, but the more I fought, the more Hunter triggered the feeling to intensify. While he kept on pumping his hips, I felt the avalanche of unexplained, strong fluids escape my body. His huge, thick cock had slid in a little deeper before he moved back, panting. I moaned and tensed up, sprinkling his body with my own orgasm. “Fuck, Kylie. I didn’t expect that, baby. So hot.” He smiled, teasing me as he pressed back in. “Do it again. As many times as you can. I love it.” Relief filled me, and I kissed him passionately again, his lips moving with me in unison. His body was hot as fuck, the power of his thrusts almost too much. I was taken by surprise when he lifted me up, putting me on my feet. My knees were struggling to maintain their balance. Thanks to the table, I could lean on it and find support for what his next move might be. He turned me and pressed me back down, making me lean over the table with my tits pressed against it. I released unintelligible sounds as I felt his cock press at my wet entrance once again. Testing the depths of my pussy, he pushed once again. He was barely inside of me. Half of his shaft had obliterated my base, digging it deeper to allow more of his length inside of me. Pleasure washed over me in great waves as he took his time, fucking me shallow and slow, playing with my clit with his free hand as I squirmed and whined beneath him. It was too much. He was too much. I came again, wetness dripping down my thighs as I cried out. “Fuck, Kylie.” He pulled out, panting. “I can’t go anymore without coming, baby. Let’s stop for tonight.”

“No way.” I turned, completely ready to give him anything he wanted. “I don’t want you to stop.” “It’s not a risk we can take right now.” He touched the side of my face, but I could see his need. Feel it. Sense it. I dropped to my knees and pulled him close, sliding his thick shaft into my mouth. The taste of my own release raced across my tongue, turning me on far more than I thought it would. He moaned and trusted above me until he tensed and lost himself on my tongue. I drank him down and licked at his thick, pulsing head until he stepped back, his eyes glossy, his face filled with ecstasy. He pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me. “How the hell did all of that happen?” I laughed. “Sorry for ruining the gun lesson tonight.” I looked at him with seducing eyes, still mesmerized by his great body, handsome face, plus his giant cock. “You’re still welcomed tomorrow, in case you forgot. I will love to teach you how to use your gun.” He kissed the top of my head and moved back, pulling his pants back around his waist. He groaned to find out that his cock would not fit inside his jeans fully erect. I wasn’t surprised at all. I nodded as I picked up my clothes to get dressed. “I enjoyed tonight.” “I want you to stay with me.” He reached out and helped me with my shirt. “No, not with Vince sick. Soon maybe?” “Absolutely.” He pulled me close and kissed me one more time. “Soon needs to be like really, really soon.” We shared a laugh, and I lifted to my toes, kissing him one more time. “Bye, lover.”

“Bye, beautiful. See you tomorrow.” He waved his hand as I turned and walked across the yard toward the house. Every cell in my body was humming, and I was on fire for him. Soon would be real soon. I needed more of him. Now.

EXCESSIVE PART 2 Chapter 11 Hunter Sleeping the night off was the hardest thing to do. My mind had been shrouded with thoughts of our heated encounter. Her gun practice had turned into something more dangerous and adventurous. I checked the time over the wall clock that hung in the center of my room. Time flew by so slowly, especially when one was conscious of the things around them. All that my eyes could see were pictures of Kylie bent forward in front of me, moaning in extreme pleasure over my huge cock deposited into her tight, little pussy. I felt my lips curve into a sly smile, reminding me of the exciting night we had out in my barn. I decided to stand up and stretch my legs. My jogging pants were enough to clothe me, so I went out of my room, half naked with no shirt on. Right before I walked out of the back door, I decided to check on Vince. He had eaten a few bites last night. Kylie was a great cook, making her all the more attractive. My little guy had to be starving though a few bites of soup wasn’t nearly enough. I stopped in front of his room, turning the knob of his door slowly. Careful not to create any noise, I peeked into the room as quietly as I could. Vince was still sound asleep, looking better than last night. I walked on tiptoes, trying my hardest not to disrupt his rest. I checked his

temperature by putting the back of my hand against his forehead. He was still warm, although not as hot as yesterday. His fever seemed to have subsided, but I could not afford to let him go to school and tire himself again. He had not yet fully recovered, and he needed some time off perhaps. That would be the best resort for now. Instead of walking out of the house for a jog, I decided to cook Vince something for breakfast. That fever had taken away his appetite, and he needed to recharge his body for him to recuperate fast. I went to the kitchen and cooked our breakfast. I tried to force my thoughts away from Kylie’s sexy body and great smile, but it was a difficult task to do. Still, my cooking prowess was unbeatable. It would be best for him to eat meat and vegetables, with soup to make him feel better. I hoped he could return to his old, cheerful self today. I took him breakfast in bed, waking him with a kiss on the head. He stretched his limbs and yawned audibly, his eyes squeezed closed. When he opened his eyes, he threw his hands around me and hugged me tightly. “You okay, big guy?” “Dad, I’m fine. Can we go hog hunting tonight?” As much as I wanted to give into him, he needed to rest. I smiled at. “You need to rest, buddy. The hog hunting can wait, anyway.” “Really?” He was obviously too beat to hide his disappointment like he usually did. “As soon you get well, we will go hunt those hogs. Is that better, buddy?” I asked, his expression brightening up into a hopeful smile. I could not disappoint him again. He deserved better for being the most perfect son a parent could hope for. “So, you better eat this meal I prepared for superheroes like you.”

He perked up and looked over at the tray, seeing the delicious food whose inviting smell lingered around his room. He happily stood up and tugged my hand, pulling me up to come along with him. “Superheroes don’t eat in bed. Only babies do.” He flexed his pretended biceps, posing as The Incredible hulk. He walked with his chest out, exiting the room with a spirit of a champion. He acted tough, but I knew he still felt a bit ill. I carried the tray of food out of the room, taking his breakfast into the kitchen. He sat there waiting for me patiently, his feet swinging as they hung shortly from the chair. I laid the tray on the table, serving him his first meal of the day. He took the plate and ate in silence, his appetite returning from what I could tell. I took a plate and served myself as my stomach rumbled. I watched as he ate his meal, observing if he was feeling better now. I was happy to see that he seemed cured of his fever, although I needed to be sure he was fully recovered. “Hey, buddy. I think it’s best if you come along with Dad today. It’s just a tour of the town’s museum later, right?” I asked him. He nodded, though he looked a bit sad about not coming along on the trip. “Don’t worry, buddy. I have better plans for you later.” He looked up, grabbing his attention by my last statement. He looked at me with inquiring eyes, searching for answers. He raised his brows as he waited for an answer, but I shook my head to keep him excited. “It’s a surprise.” I continued my meal as I watched him look pumped for what was yet to come. *

“You look so cheerful today that it makes me worried.” Garren took one of the guns out of the display case, searching the customer’s requested item as he bumped into me. His sarcasm was thick…as per usual. I punched his arm, telling him to focus on work instead of goofing around. “So, how’s the hunt? You must have had a lot of game last night.” Garren walked side by side with me, approaching our respective clients to talk to. I smiled, leaving the conversation hanging between us. “What?” He was hoping for something clear, although he knew something interesting had happened in his absence. He was good at reading my mind, but we had been friends since we were kids. It wasn’t too damn hard to do. “Man, we had some wild times last night.” He let out a toned chuckle as he stopped walking right before we reached our customers. His brows were wrinkled, but his eyes were screaming his desire to hear the gist of the night. “So, Kylie was the big catch.” I pushed him forward, telling him not to keep the customers waiting. He was hoping for an answer, but I refrained from disclosing the details of what happened. Watching him squirm was far too much fun. “Dude,” he mumbled. “What the fuck happened? Tell me, man.” “I will, you idiot, but first, we got to get these deals done before I tell you the rest of the night’s adventure.” I faced my client and assisted him until he decided to buy something. “So, a promise is a promise.” Garren turned to me after his client left, a smile on his face. He hopped up on the table and gave me a look. “Spill. Now.” “I guess you know the rest of it.” I kept things mysterious. A part of me expected him to ask some nasty questions like, “How was she in bed?” or “Does she have some nice

tits?” but he didn’t. “You’re such a pussy.” He teased me for my cowardly ways, averting his questions. “Tell me what happened. What are you? Ten?” “Man, my son’s here. Watch it; we don’t want him hearing these things.” “Then spill.” He leaned closer. “Who did you shock with that monster in your britches and was she good?” Garren let out another joyous chuckle, seeing the panic in my eyes. “Yeah, and Kylie from next door.” I rolled my eyes. “Now who’s acting ten?” “Kylie? I never noticed you had your eyes on her,” he kidded, keeping his candor despite his teasing. “But man, I’m happy for you. Finally, you took my advice. Linda left you four years ago and never looked back, bro. You had to move on. That shit is long overdue.” “Yeah. It is, right?” I smiled at him, surprised at how good I felt. It was a breath of fresh air. It was refreshing and amazing. I never thought I would feel this way again. I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. Garren whistled and stood, popping me in the chest as he walked to the front. “Hey, Hunter. Someone’s looking for you.” I glanced up to see Kylie. A smile spread across my face. She had to be the most beautiful woman in the world. I wasn’t just falling in lust with her, but love. Fuck me. I was probably already there. Kylie stood before the glass display cases looking pretty as ever. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, highlighting her attractive, delicate face. She wore a red checkered blouse which was tied up a little above the waist. Her navel was peeking out, exhibiting her sexy curves for me to see. Those skinny, dark denim jeans she wore were precisely showing her

nice, long legs. I could not take my eyes off of her, beaming as she showed her gun case in her right hand. I hurried to greet her. She had to be there for some real target practice. Yes. I’d been waiting all damn day to see her. “Nice seeing you, Kylie. You look beautiful.” I took a deep breath, completely swept off of my feet by her. Her lips curved into a sweet smile, her cheeks flushed. “Thanks.” I nodded at Garren, who knew my sign. I needed back up so I could spend a little bit of time with my newest obsession. I took her with me as we picked Vince from the back office. He was coloring some of his books again, but upon seeing Kylie, he wanted to come and watch the gun practice along with us. “Okay, buddy. But you have to keep away and sit still as the shooting starts, okay?” I smiled down at him. His eyes lit up. I guess I was not the only one thrilled by Kylie’s company. The three of us walked out of the back door, coming into the range that was set up at the back of the shop. It was the ideal place to shoot some targets. I had put this up for the enthusiasts and interested people ready to learn some new, badass skills. “So, let me see your gun again.” I motioned for her to pull it out. She took the gun out of the case, looking prepared, as if she knew the basics of loading the gun. “Here you go.” “Saying ‘I’m impressed’ is not enough. You’ve done your homework well, Kylie,” I kidded, seeing she had researched about the preparations for gun shooting and practice. She smiled at me, walking past me as she proceeded to the shooting area. “I had a good teacher.”

Her sultry voice had my body hardening. There was no way I was going to be able to keep myself in check around her, but I had to. The little man was with us. I followed her, taking my spot beside her. “I’ll teach you how to shoot that target today.” I pointed my finger at a thin, flat wood that stood approximately a few feet away from where we stood. “I’d like that.” She offered me a shy smile. “All right. Let’s get on some protective gear and we’ll get to it.” I put on mine first and she watched me, mimicking my movements. She was too cute in her safety goggles and vest. “All right. Just relax and listen to what I tell you to do. I’m here to help.” I positioned behind her, pressing my body to her back to enable better control over her grasp. She held the gun tightly in her hands, and I cupped mine over hers as I guided her toward shooting the target. My face was close to hers, and I could hear her breathing speed up. I could tell that she was tense, although she suppressed her emotions inside of her. How badly I wanted to kiss her. “Now, just aim at the target, Miss Kylie.” Vince’s small voice rose up beside her, pulling me back to reality. “Now, on the count of three, pull the trigger. Remember, keep your grip tight and steady. You want to hit that target where you want him shot,” I whispered at her side, her hair near my mouth. She smelled sweet, like vanilla and lilies. “One, two, three!” The sound of the gun clamored around the area as the bullet went flying at top speed. I looked at Vince who had taken a seat. He clapped upon seeing the target hit. “Nice, now try it without my supervision.” I released my hold on hers, although I

hoped I could touch her some more. She tried on her own, keeping her attention fixed on the target. She pulled the trigger, and the target was hit somewhere on the body, inaccurate but at least landing on the enemy decoy. “Great. Keep on trying,” I spoke, crossing my arms before my chest as I watched her shoot more bullets toward the target. By the sequence of her shots, she seemed to have a good feel for her own gun. And she looked damn fine using it. “I love it!” She smiled over at us. Vince and I both smiled back, both of us with a sappy look on our faces, no doubt. “Guess we’ve got a natural over here.” I turned at Vince who was still clapping his hands, impressed by her fast, adaptive skills. “Not really if compared with you.” She put the gun down on the table, walking over to us. “This was so helpful, Hunter. I would like to return your kindness by cooking dinner for you guys. You should taste my specialty.” My mind went to every naughty thought I could conjure up. She’d tasted me the night before, put I’d yet to open her up and drink her nectar. Dinner and then maybe she could be my dessert? But not tonight. Vince came first. He had to. “Yeah, I think we would love that. But I think it needs to wait until this little hero gets well.” As much as I wanted to have dinner with her, I needed to be sure Vince was all well. Kylie nodded in agreement. She was beaming beautifully, her sincere smile drawn on her angelic face. “Great then. I’ll be ready whenever you guys are.”

Chapter 12 Kylie We wrapped things up, and Hunter walked me to my car. I stopped just before we got to it and turned to face him. I had to see him one more time. “Today was fun.” I was smiling from ear to ear as I took the gun case from him. He returned the same smile I wore, seemingly sharing the same experience as I did. “You are a fast learner. A joy to watch.” He leaned closer to me, my heart beating fast again. That similar feeling I felt when he was at my back, teaching my how to shoot rebirthed inside of me. I closed my eyes, anticipating a kiss from him. Only when his lips touched my forehead did I realize he was kissing me goodbye. I opened my eyes again, struck by his gentle kiss on my head. “See you soon, Kylie.” “Yeah. Okay.” I got into the car, a little disappointment. I wanted a real kiss. We’d fucked in the barn the night before. Maybe it meant more to me than it did to him? I ignored my internal questions and waved at him as I drove off, my heart still racing. I had never felt this before. Butterflies fluttered inside my stomach. Although my eyes were on the road, my head was somewhere off in space. Somewhere above the clouds, thinking of things that caused my body to ache and grow wet. I got to the store and parked, freaked out that I had driven without thinking about it at all. I walked in to find my mother waiting for me, the look on her face showing that she had been nervous.

“How did the gun practice go?” Her eyes were on the new novelette she had just started yesterday as she manned the counter. It was late afternoon, but the store seemed a little bit empty. I walked toward her and stopped. “It’s pretty great, Mom. I got Hunter to teach me how to use the gun with a target.” I pinned my name tag on the chest portion of my shirt as I stood before the counter. My mother was still reading her novelette as if she did not care much about what I had to say. She was still pissed about me disobeying her advice. I walked over to her, taking the book out of her grasp. She stared at me with her green eyes. Only then did I see that she was troubled and worried. I squeezed her shoulder and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Mom, we are going to be safe now. The gun will help us, in case things make a turn for the worse.” She looked at me and ceded a weak smile. “And do you plan on using that scary thing if someone comes in here and threatens us?” It was a good question. I shook my head, still uncertain about my intent. I hadn’t considered what I was going to do with the gun. All I knew was that having it, and knowing how to use it, helped me feel safe. Shooting a man was not part of my thought process. I wasn’t sure I could do something like that, no matter what. “I’m not sure yet, Mom. Maybe, but hopefully, we don’t have to face something like that.” “Yep. Hopefully not.” She went back to her romance novellas and left me to my thoughts. It was a dangerous place to be. *

After my shift had ended, I decided to visit Bailey before going home. She had been worried sick upon hearing that my house had been broken into by burglars, but I never got the chance to see her and update her on the investigation. Now that I had some free time, I figured I’d stop by and see her and Cat. I knocked on their front door, and Bailey opened it. She had Cat in her arms but still managed to lean in and squeeze me tightly. Cat got pinned in between the two of us and cried out before squirming around. The three of us laughed. I loved them both so much. They were a ray of sunshine in my life that I couldn’t live without. “Come, have a seat.” Bailey walked toward the living room. “Take a load off.” I picked up some of the toys that were scattered on the ground, putting them in Cat’s toy box. “Sorry for not calling or coming over sooner. I got a lot of things going on.” She helped me in picking up the toys while Cat sat on the couch, occupied by the cartoons she was watching on the TV. “It’s okay, Kylie. As soon as you have the time, you can visit us. You doing okay after everything? You sure moving back to your house is the best idea?” She looked at me with worried eyes resembling those of my mother. “Yeah, things are back to normal, and I stayed there last night. It was good.” I shrugged. “Besides, Hunter keeps the neighborhood in check. And I feel safer now that he taught me how to use a gun.” I picked up the last toy and placed it in the toy box. Bailey closed the chest, her eyes smiling at me. She looked like she just heard some new gossip in town. I looked at her with a questioning gaze, waiting for her thoughts. She pursed her lips. Pain in the butt.

“What?” I crossed my arms beneath my chest. Finally, she ended my torment and spoke what was on her mind. “You’ve talked about nothing but Hunter these past few days. Is there something I’m missing?” From the tone of her voice, I knew she was already fully aware of what was going on. I sat beside Cat, wrapping my arm around her tiny shoulders as I planted a kiss on her cheek. “Maybe?” I laughed. “So, tell me! Is it what I think? Did you sleep with him?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. You lost your virginity to him, didn’t you?” I couldn’t keep anything from her. She was my closest friend. “Yeah. I did.” “What!? Really?!” Her whole face lit up. “Yeah. I went over there to learn how to hold my gun, and one thing led to the other.” I ran my hand down my face, embarrassed as hell. She glanced at Cat and leaned close, whispering her next words. “So, was he any good? Was he big?” I blushed upon hearing the word big. I could still feel him inside me, the tremendous part of him that filled me up. “Yes. Excessively so. I can’t get it out of my head, to be honest.” “How big?” She mouthed and held up six fingers. “Ten.” I leaned back and let out a long sigh. “What?” She stood up and walked around in a circle, looking like an idiot. “Are you kidding me? How did you? Were you able to… Did he hurt you?” She put her hands on her hips, her excitement all but gone.

“What? No.” I sat back up. “Good.” She let out a sigh and dropped back down beside me. “Well, just be careful.” “Of?” I laughed, half expecting her to say to be careful of his monster cock, but Cat was there. We were trying hard to behave. “Of falling for a guy like him, Kylie. Relationships need attention and time, but Hunter’s priorities are filled up already. He’s got a son and a business to manage, plus being a volunteer firefighter would limit his time even more. It’s difficult to add yourself to his tight schedule, and I don’t want to see you disappointed. Take it from someone who faced the same dilemma.” “I know the risks.” I felt defensive, which I hated, but she didn’t know him. He was different. He had to be. Everyone loved this man…including me. “Hey, I want you to be happy. I know how you are. But also, I want you to be happy not only for a short period of time. I wish the best for you, and as your best friend, I don’t want you coming back here and crying due to heartbreak.” “I know. I appreciate that. I’ll be careful, really.” I forgot about everything and laid back on the couch. Cat crawled up in my lap and wrapped her tiny arms around my neck. We stayed that way until the baby grew bored of me. After helping to clean up Bailey’s living room, I decided to get ready and go home. “It’s getting late. I need to get some sleep. Thanks for letting me spill my news.” “Or thanks for dragging it out of you?” She laughed and pulled me in for a quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger, stranger.” “Never.” I kissed Cat on the head and walked out toward the car. I began to drift away from reality as I drove home. Dinner with Hunter and Vince would be so nice. I hoped it would be sooner rather than later. I loved to cook, and even

more so, I would love to cook for the two of them. I drove down my street and forced myself to focus. The same car I’d seen before the burglary was the driving by the house. Shit. Trying not to make a scene, I turned around and headed back toward my mother’s house. I didn’t want to bother Hunter, but I sure as hell wasn’t staying home alone. I called the cops when I got back on the main road, and they promised to send someone over. I wanted to ask if they could do it permanently but knew how ridiculous I was being. It was probably a fluke. Or maybe a different car. No, I was lying to make myself feel better. Too bad that shit wasn’t working.

Chapter 13 Hunter Vince had always been a morning person, but he was still in his room. It had been a week since he’d gotten sick and things got better for a while, but he seemed to have relapsed somehow. I had talked to his teacher, telling her about his condition. He was still nauseated and dizzy, but he persisted on going back to school. The teacher understood his situation and wanted Vince to take some days off rather than going back and lapsing into sickness again. She promised to get him some notes for him to study at home. I walked toward his room and caught sight of him lying on the bed with his hand on his stomach. He looked pale again, as if his fever had returned. “Hey, buddy. Are you okay?” I asked, seeing him half awake. He shook his head. “My head hurts, Dad. Even my stomach, my body, everything.” He groaned, his hands pressed hard to his stomach. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.” I excused myself to call Garren. I had to take off another day. “Yeah, man. You should take Vince to the doctor. Don’t worry about the shop; I’ll take care of it.” He was right. Time to get some help. It wasn’t a small flu bug that would disappear on its own. I dressed Vince, carried him in my arms, and put him into the car. I should have done

this a long time ago at the first sign of his illness, but things were too hectic for me, and honestly, I’d expected it to just go away. I drove to the hospital as worry filled my insides. Please let my little man be okay. As we arrived at the nearest hospital, the nurses assisted me as they took Vince to the emergency room. He was still curled into a ball, pressing his tummy, talking about the pain he was in. I held his hand tight, being the only thing I could do to support my son. I wished it was me in pain instead. Seeing him suffer broke my heart. “Kindly wait here, sir. We can take it from here.” I watched as they checked on Vince, the doctors, and nurses attending to his pain. He was very responsive, telling them everything he felt. They seemed relieved since it made it easy for them to pinpoint what meds to give him. After a few minutes, he looked calmer, less in pain. One of the doctors approached me. “How long was he feeling this pain?” “About a week ago, Doc.” I felt embarrassed answering his question. The doctor scratched his head. “Right now, we can’t tell what’s going on, but we’ll take some blood and figure it out. We need to run a few more tests to know what put him in this situation.” “I understand.” I nodded, feeling like shit. “Whenever things get a little out of hand, you should take him here immediately. You should check on your son and see if things are still in the normal range. An on and off fever that keeps up after a week is too long, Mr. Yonnie.” He left me alone in the hallway, walking back inside the emergency room to attend to the other patients. I wrapped my arms around myself and pressed my back against the wall. How could I have let Vince be sick this long? What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking… Focusing on ensuring my business was successful and bringing in

loads of money was my top goal. I had neglected him, and now he had to pay the price for my mistakes. It simply wasn’t right. I couldn’t bear seeing him suffer due to my bad decisions. He deserved so much more. Damn Linda for leaving us both. I hated her with a passion, though doing so only made me feel worse. “Mr. Yonnie, can you come over here and let’s get some lab work for Vince today? Everything is in-house, so it should be pretty fast, pretty easy.” A pretty nurse waved me over to her station. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” I walked over and set up the appointments, ready to see my boy again and find assurance that he was going to be okay. The entire day was spent running tests for the doctors to determine Vince’s illness. He looked so much better a little while later, and it appeared as if his pain was finally gone. After the last test had been done, the two of us were supposed to meet with Vince’s doctor again. I knocked on his office door, hoping he was inside. “Come in.” Vince and I went inside and sat down, nerves tearing up my insides. It was just the flu, right? Had to be. “Let’s see what’s going on inside of you, little guy.” The doctor unsealed the envelope to look at the results of the various tests inside. It took him several minutes of scrutinizing the contents of the results, reading through the findings. At last, after a long period of silence, he began to speak again. “Okay. Vince, is that medicine helping a little?” the doctor asked. Vince nodded and gave a lazy smile. “Yes, sir. I’m just still a little tired.” “Yeah, I can see that here.” He glanced over at me. “He’s got a really bad strain of the flu, and we might want to test for some autoimmune issues in the future, but for now, lots

of rest and fluids. He should recover and be just fine.” “Thank God,” I mumbled and ran my fingers through my hair. A strong strain of the flu? Jeez. After talking to the doctor for a few more minutes about autoimmune issues, Vince and I were free to go. I grasped his hand as we left the doctor’s office, walking out of the hospital together. I was thankful to see Vince feeling much better now and felt like shit knowing that it was mostly an issue of not giving him enough fluids. I was the worst parent in the world. I couldn’t look at him. I felt so ashamed of myself. “Dad, are we going home now?” he asked, looking at me with hopeful eyes. I knew he hated the hospital. There was this frightening aura that lingered around that place, making him feel uneasy to be in a place where needles and knives were used to cure people. Seeing his face was heartbreaking. “Yeah, buddy. Everything’s fine now.” I held his hand tighter as we exited the hospital, walking toward the parking lot. Going home, I had a heavy heart. It had been a long day, and I was weary as hell. Linda would have known what to do when he first got sick; my ex-wife would have understood the signs and symptoms. I asked the same questions I’d asked a million times. Why weren’t we enough for her? As soon as we got home, I looked over and noticed Vince was sleeping beside me. I didn’t wake him up, but instead carried him into the house and took him straight to his bed so he could rest. Just when I was about to leave his room, I heard the doorbell ring. I walked to see

who it was and found my beautiful neighbor standing on the porch. Kylie. I opened the door, and she stood before me, beautiful yet simple in her usual, cowgirl getup. My day brightened up almost immediately. “Hi,” she spoke, smiling at me. She had a container of something in her hands that smelled like heaven. “Hi, pretty girl.” I moved back and let her in. Before she set a foot inside, she handed over what she was holding in her hands. “What’s this?” I opened the lid of the container, curious to what’s inside. “I made some stuffed chicken and mashed potatoes, and I thought Vince would love to try it out.” Her cheeks were flushed, bringing that rose color to her fair white skin. “Thanks for these, I’m sure they are good.” My stomach rumbled, and I reached out, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. “Stay for a little bit?” “Yeah. I’d like that.” She walked into the living room and took a seat on my couch, looking like she belonged there. She looked around as if searching for something. “Where’s Vince?” I gave her a pitiful look, recalling my poor parenting. “He’s still down with the flu. We spent the day in the ER because I was so worried about him this morning.” Fear raced across her pretty face. “Oh, no! Is he okay? Can I see him?” It warmed me to know she wanted to. “Yeah. He’s better. Come on.” I walked her to Vince’s room. He was still sound asleep, sawing logs. “Poor baby.” She walked in and got on her knees, leaning over and kissing his forehead. Foreign emotions filled the center of my chest. I was falling in love with the girl. She got up and joined me back in the hall, the worry in her eyes matching mine for sure. “I guess you’re forced to share the dinner with me instead,” I kidded.

She looked pleased with the suggestion and went to follow me back into the kitchen. “I swear it’ll make another dish of it tomorrow for Vince to try out.” “That sounds great. I need to take him back up to the doctor’s office tomorrow instead of the hospital just for a quick check up. They’re wanting to watch him until he’s back to being a hundred percent.” I unpacked the meal she brought. It looked inviting and tasty. “This look great, Kylie. You didn’t have to do this.” “I wanted to.” She put a few things on the table and sat down, a smile lifting her perfect lips. I grabbed a bottle of wine from my pantry and two glasses and joined her. Something about having her there was so right. It left the day not feeling so damn gloomy. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s eat.” It felt like a candlelight dinner out at a fivestar restaurant except that we were here at my dining room table instead. Despite the simplicity of the ambiance, the vibe felt romantic; it felt right. It was one of the simplest yet best things in life. Free and beautiful and unforgettable. “So, Vince just has the flu?” She took a bite of her meal and watched me. “Yeah. We’re going to do a few tests soon to make sure it’s nothing else, but the doctor seemed pretty confident.” I licked at my folk and watched her closely. “Did you see the side yard when you came up today? Those damn hogs tore it up again.” She laughed hard. “Those hogs have been tearing up both of our lands for a while, Hunter. Someone needs to get out there and turn them into bacon.” “That is not bacon anyone is going to want to eat.” I snorted and reached for her hand. “I haven’t gotten them yet, but I swear I’ll make them suffer.” I sounded villainous, but she found my teasing amusing. “I would love to watch you do that.” She finally gave her laughter a rest and posed a

pretty smile instead. My pulse picked up as I studied her. She was far too beautiful for a man like me, too innocent, though I’d taken her virginity as my own already. I wanted her again, the voice in my screaming for me to reach out and take her. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to put on a show for you when I finally get to it.” I smiled, but the expression faded as my thoughts shifted back to Vince. I had promised him a lot of things, including the promise I made to go hog hunting with him. That, up to now, remained a broken, distant promise. “What’s the matter?” Kylie asked, her voice so soft. I straightened up, trying my best to cover the sadness in them. It was difficult, but I didn’t want her to see me as a bad parent. What would that say about my ability to be a father to her kid? Assuming she wanted some. Assuming we would end up together. My cock twitched at the thought. “Nothing,” I answered coldly. I looked into her eyes, meeting me with a flash of hope and sincerity. It felt like I could vent to her. It felt like she would listen and understand. “You can tell me anything, you know.” I took a deep breath and looked down at my plate. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I need to work and manage the shop, but my son needs me now.” I cupped my chin, still torn between the two priorities battling their way to be at the top. I could figure out a good solution and quite honestly felt out of options. “Hunter, don’t worry. I can help you out. If you need me, I’m just a call away. Also, I love listening to Vince’s stories. He’s such a joy to be with,” she offered. As much as I wanted to decline her kind offer, I was trapped in the middle. I nodded instead, thankful of

her support for me and my son. “I’ll come by tomorrow to join your visit to Vince’s doctor,” she replied, her eyes candid and caring. I couldn’t be more thankful for her.

Chapter 14 Kylie As much as I wanted to spend the night with Hunter the night before, he looked beat, and after his day at the ER; he had to be. We cleaned up, I kissed his cheek, and got back over to my place. It was a long night, but the morning came…finally. I got dressed and joined the guys to drive to the doctor’s office, all of us sleepy and not saying too much. It was odd to see Hunter so stressed out. He’d always been so cool and collected before. Poor thing. I would have done anything I could to change it for him. As the three of us waited in the doctor’s waiting room for Vince’s name to be called, I kept Vince busy with children stories. Vince was fully wrapped up in the story, forgetting about the nerves of being at the doctor’s office. It calmed him a little, diverting his attention to the story. “Vince Yonnie?” The nurse called out his name, suggesting his turn for the one-onone consultation with the doctor. The three of us stood up and entered the doctor’s office, hearts racing fast for what was yet to be uncovered. “Good morning, Mr. And Mrs. Yonnie. Please take a seat.” The doctor welcomed us, mistaking me as Vince’s mother. “No, Doc. I’m just a friend.” I clarified the fact, although being called Mrs. Yonnie sounded pretty good to my ears. “So, here’s the thing, which is honestly crazy.” The doctor sat back in his seat, putting

the stethoscope on his table. “The good news is that Vince looks like his fever is gone, and he’s on the mend from the flu.” “The bad news?” Hunter looked like he might pass out. “I’m afraid we found something in the blood testing yesterday, but it’s a really good thing that we did. Fluke incident, but still, it’s good to know what’s going on before it becomes life threatening.” I took Hunter’s hand and moved closer to him as my heart dropped. What the hell was going on? The doctor continued. “The results have confirmed that Vince has diabetes. He needs to be injected with regular insulin shots to help with his blood sugar levels. He’s gotta watch how much sugar he eats too, which comes in all forms.” Hearing the news made Hunter frown. He looked very disappointed in himself, seeing his son face a lot of things. At such young age, Vince needed to continue taking insulin shots until he got older. The pain he felt was evident and contagious. Seeing him upset broke my heart. Being a single parent had to be so damn hard. “Was there anything I could have done to stop this?” He kept his eyes on the doctor, but I could tell he was close to breaking down. “No, not at all. It’s hereditary. Again, it’s a good thing he came in to see us with something like the flu. We can fix this early on, and Vince will live a long, great life if he takes care of himself with insulin.” He smiled over to Vince and ruffled his hair. “We’re going to be just fine, hm, little guy?” “Yep! I feel great.” Vince smiled up at the doctor and turned to Hunter. “Can we get a lollipop on the way home?” “No!” We all chimed in. It was going to be okay. A huge adjustment, but something

Hunter would figure out how to deal with. I just hoped that he would let me help here and there. We went back to Hunter’s house, driving in a stony silence. It felt like no one wanted to break the ice. Not even the gleeful Vince, who barely understood what was going on around him. Poor kid, he had so much to face at such a young age and didn’t realize it. As we reached their house, I got out of the car and took Vince’s stuff into the house. Hunter carried him to the house and tucked him in bed. The little guy curled up and rolled onto his side. “Guess he’s still recovering.” Hunter stopped in front of the boxes of insulin. “Am I really going to have to give him several shots and poke him five times a day?” “Yes, but it’s going to be okay.” I wrapped my arms around him from behind and kissed the back of his thick shoulder. “Let me get you something to eat. You haven’t had anything today.” He looked pale as he turned toward me. “No thanks, Kylie. I’ve lost my appetite.” My heart sunk. Seeing him hurting was too much for me. We didn’t have a simple fling, though it might look like it from the outside looking in. I was falling in love, or perhaps I was already there. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Hunter. Vince needs you right now. You should take care of yourself.” I followed Hunter into the living room and paused. He hid his face in the palms of his hands and took a shaky breath. “I feel so helpless. I usually don’t feel like this, but I’m all out of options. I don’t know what to do about my son. I seldom go to the gun shop since Vince got sick. I don’t know what I should do. My head’s all messed up. It’s all my fault. I got my son sick. I’m useless.”

“I know what you’re going through. It’s tough that things got worse even though you tried hard to hope for the best. But there’s one thing I can assure you, Hunter. I will always have your back, no matter what.” I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. “Look at me.” He ran his hands down his handsome face, his expression solemn. “I hoped I could be a good father to Vince, but I suck at this. I’ve broken a million promises, and the little guy deserves so fucking much better than what I’m giving him.” “You are a good father, and you love him. That is huge. Don’t discount it.” I ran my hands up his throat and cupped his jaw as I leaned in, kissing him softly. He relaxed a little in my arms. “Don’t worry, as soon as things get better, I’ll help you out by fulfilling all those promises with you. I’m always here to help.” “I appreciate that.” He searched my face and pulled me in for a longer kiss, the passion there but dampened a little by all he was going through. I would have taken every bit of it away from him if I could have. “Also, if you needed someone to look out for Vince, I can do that. I can keep him at the convenience store if you need to finish some work. Mom would be excited to see his precious face anyway.” “He would love that. You just have to watch him around the candy and chips.” His expression saddened. “I know the doc said it wasn’t my fault, but I still can’t help thinking I played some part in it. You know?” “Any good parent would think that.” I brushed my lips by his and ran my fingers through his hair as my heart skipped a beat. He was so intense looking that close up. So breathtaking. All I wanted was to make him feel like he wasn’t alone, that I was right there beside him and would continue to be.

I felt our lips touch once more, exploring each other’s taste. I had missed him. It felt like I’d waited forever to be close to him again. He quenched my thirst, giving me the kiss I had been thinking for days. It was perfect and passionate and deep, filled with emotions and thoughts too complex for words. Our sweet moment was destroyed by the ringing of my phone. I wasted no time and entangled from his lips, answering the call as quickly as I could. “Kylie! Where are you? Why did you leave the convenience store? I need a lot of help today; we’ve got plenty of customers to serve!” my mother was screaming, her voice deafening my ears. Damn. I was on the schedule and forgot all about it because of Hunter. He moved closer and ran his hands down my shoulders, guilt drawn all over his face. “I’ve taken so much of your time. Sorry.” “All right, Mom. I’m on my way. I’ll explain later.” I turned to him and smiled. “She’s crazy. Did I mention that part?” He laughed and pulled me in for another kiss. “Get out of here and call me later. I want to see you again. I want more of these.” He leaned in and kissed me softly, leaving my body warm for what was hopefully to come sooner than later. “Okay. I’d like that.” I kissed him again and turned to walk to the door. “Hey, if you need me to babysit Vince, I’m just a call away.” “Yeah. He would love that. He likes you a lot.” “See you later, handsome.” I walked out of the house and glanced back to find him watching me closely. “Call if you need me.” “I need you.” He smiled, and my heart swelled in my chest. Man, how I wished his words were true.

Chapter 15 One Week Later Hunter “She is the most amazing person I know.” I kept my eyes on the guns I was cleaning, but my head was somewhere up in the clouds. It had been a week since I took Vince to the ER and he was completely back to being himself. I’d seen Kylie a little, but not nearly enough. We’d yet to make love again, and I was going nuts trying to figure out a way to get a little bit of free time and not neglect Vince in the slightest. Garren punched my arm, waking me up from my faint day dreaming. “Yeah, man. I know. You just said that a couple of times today, and every day lately.” He smirked at me, making fun of my new-found love. I was slowly figuring out how to juggle everything, other than time with my girl. Kylie had been an amazing help and if I thought about it…she was the only reason things were working out so well. “I don’t think I could do it without her. Just the everyday stuff. She’s been a Godsend, man.” I responded to his ridicule, clarifying the truth amidst his mockery. Garren nodded, finally agreeing a little. “Well, I can’t argue with that, and on top of all you got going on, the sales for the shop have never been better, Hunter. It’s impressive, man.” “I know, right? Craziness, but I’m telling you…it’s all due to her helping me out.” I

laid the last gun in the display case and walked to my desk to organize some of the licenses I’d just issued for special order guns and weapons for pick up. “She’s been doing so much helping to take care of Vince. I don’t even know why she is doing everything she does. It’s a great favor that even you would refuse to do.” Garren rolled his eyes. “Well, I can’t object to that. Even though I wanted to help you out, I can’t offer too much like what Kylie is doing right now. She’s incredibly kind and caring for others. What a selfless woman.” Amused, he kept his eyes on mine. The astonishment was quickly replaced by a smirk as soon as he thought of something else. “I wonder why.” “I don’t know, man. I don’t deserve her.” I gave him a quizzical look. “And we’re not officially dating, though I’d like to, you know?” “Well, I’m thinking of two reasons a pretty woman like her would help out a bastard like you. Either she’s head over heels for you and is willing to do anything just to please the love of her life, or simply because she’s a saint that thinks she can get to heaven through helping the ones who are in need.” He burst into an insulting laugh, making fun of Kylie’s generosity and dedication to help. I gave him a stern look. “Watch it.” “Yeah, sorry, man. I was just kidding.” He cleared his throat, removing the mischievous attitude and replacing it with the keen, sober persona I needed from him. “But seriously, you need to do something for her. Even if she’s offering to help, you can’t just keep taking. You know this.” He had a point. I kept my eyes on the papers, stamping them as I thought of Kylie. Garren left me and attended to the customer that walked in the gun shop. She was doing so much while I did nothing but take up her time. She did seem to love it when I stopped by her momma’s store unannounced. Seeing her eyes light up when I wanted in was a high

like no other. Visiting the convenience store during closing time was a routine for me. Vince stayed there most of the time, running light errands alongside Kylie. My son loved to stick around the Tomms, feeling like a full-time employee of the store. He was amused by the entertaining people that stopped by the store, being the friendly kid who charmed customers with his sweet smile. Maybe I should take lunch over there? Surprise them. Surprise her. As soon as the clock ticked noon, I decided to go for it. I wasn’t spontaneous enough in my life, and it showed. The girl I wanted in my bed hadn’t been there but once, and that was in the damn barn, on a shooting table. Garren was more than happy to see me taking the initiative to do something for my pretty girl and promised to keep the shop standing for a few hours so I could take her lunch. I drove to the nearest restaurant and picked up some takeout steaks for the Tomms, Vince, and me to share. I hoped Kylie would be happy to see me, that some part of me surprising her would make her day. I parked out front and grabbed the food, getting out and walking with a bounce in my step to the store. I caught sight of Mrs. Tomms tending the counter as I entered. What happened to her husband? I’d never asked Kylie before. The older woman waved her hand as I entered but kept quiet as I mouthed not to say anything. I wanted to surprise Kylie and Vince if possible. She smiled and pointed to the chips section. I walked as silently as I could, keeping my tracks unnoticeable and invisible. As I peeked over the shelf, I saw my son helping Kylie refill the racks. Vince was handing over one pack over another, assisting Kylie, who happily took the ones he gave to her. I tiptoed as I reached them, pretending to be a customer in need of their assisting.

“Hi, where are your fresh-squeezed juices?” The two turned, recognizing my voice. My son’s eyes grew big, glistening before me as he leaped into my arms. Kylie tucked the golden blonde strand of hair that fell on her face, revealing her rosy pink cheeks flushed before me. The two most adorable people in the world stood in front of me. Joy filled my heart, leaving me stuck in a moment of deep gratitude. “I brought some food.” I showed them the boxes I picked up from the steak restaurant and sat Vince down. He hopped far too excited, but it was cute. He motioned for us to join me. “Come on. Let’s tell Nana.” “Nana?” I put my arm around Kylie’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “Is that your mom’s first name?” She blushed. “No. It means grandmother in our family. He’s falling in love with her, and she’s returned his affection.” “Oh, wow. I love it.” I kissed the side of her head and breathed her in as my body woke up. Fuck me, I needed her naked and pressed against me soon. My life was far too busy. I had to fix it. Soon. “You didn’t tell me you were dropping by for lunch, by the way.” Kylie walked alongside me as we followed Vince. Relief ran through me as I watched him closely. He looked so much better now, returning to his cheerful and strong self again. The flu was gone, and he was doing a great job of letting me give him his shots daily. The kid was a warrior. “I wanted to surprise Vince.” I stopped by the register and turned to look down into her eyes. God, how could she be this beautiful? “And you too.” She looked away, but the smile on her face meant she was flattered by my words.

That was true. “Come on, you two love birds.” Kylie’s mom picked up Vince, and we walked to the back of the store. “What’s a love bird, Nana?” Vince asked, and we laughed. We sat down and sat quickly, everyone quiet as they inhaled their meal. It seemed that lunch was a great idea. Everyone had to have been starving. As we finished the meal, Kylie stood up to clean our table and prepare for her shift. I followed her as she went out of the convenience store, throwing the garbage into the huge dumpster outside. “Kylie.” “Yeah?” She faced me after throwing the bags of garbage in the dumpster. I was distracted by her again, her beauty blowing me away. The words I wanted to say suddenly vanished from my head. “I was just wondering if you have anything planned for tomorrow night.” I raised the question, hoping like hell that she didn’t. I had something planned for her, a surprise of sorts for her helping me so much lately. “Nothing, as of now. Why? Do you have some things to do? Need me to watch Vince?” she asked, knowing all too well that I would ask for help once again. “No. I thought you could come over to the house and let me cook dinner for you. You deserve to be taken out to dinner, and it might be cocky of me, but a five-star restaurant chef is no match for my skills.” “I thought you couldn’t cook that well.” She smiled and brightened my whole damn day with the simple action. “I can cook certain things really well. We’ll just stick to those. You can be the judge?”

We returned inside, smiling at each other like two school kids in love. I spent the afternoon helping around the store after making sure Garren was good with it. It felt nice to give back a little, and getting the chance to watch Kylie in her tight jeans and button down shirt had me thinking that dinner wasn’t the only thing we’d be sharing the next night. As the evening drew near, I said my goodbyes and offered a hand to Vince. He grabbed it and walked with me to the car, beaming from his fun day with everyone he ‘loved.’ “So, a good day then, right, buddy?” I asked as Vince hummed happily to the tune of his favorite song playing on the stereo. He smiled at me, his innocent eyes full of joy. “I had so much fun, Daddy! Kylie taught me how to draw a nice, big house. Nana even told me some of the great childhood stories she used to tell Kylie when she was a kid. It was fun arranging the shelves; items are displayed based on color. I loved it when we were putting up the green ones! It’s my favorite color!” He looked like he had a lot of stories to tell. Vince was still talking about how his day was as I drove into our neighborhood, approaching our house as he narrated the rest of his fun memories of today. “I really love them, Dad. Kylie’s so kind to me. She always gives me water and checks on me to see if I am sweaty and tired. She even allows me to watch her whenever she does her chores. I love helping her; she thinks I’m a great boy who gets her work done fast and easily! And her mom is like a grandmother to me. Is that okay that I call her Nana? I love her a lot, Dad.” He kept his eyes on me, persuading me by the words he spoke. “Absolutely, buddy. I think she likes that a lot too.” I ruffled his hair as my heart filled up with warmth. We got out and walked to the house, Vince grabbing my shirt and pulling

me to a stop just before we reached the door. “Dad, thanks for coming to eat lunch with us. I am happy to spend the day with you.” He hugged my arm, leaning his head on my body as I felt my heart melt. I patted his head lightly, thankful for my son’s quick recovery. He lifted his head, staring at me as he continued to speak. “Dad, I want to cook that kind of steak again we ate during lunch. Can we do it tomorrow?” he asked. I nodded, laughing over my son’s appetite for expensive food. His college years were going to be mighty rough on him. No steak there… “You’re what we call a foodie, boy.” I gave him a funny look, which earned me a sweet giggle from him. “Hey, buddy. How about you help me out by cooking a lot of delicious food tomorrow night? Kylie’s coming over to join us for dinner. We need to impress her a lot.” I knew he would be excited to see her again. Hell, I was too. He hugged me tighter, his eyes on mine. He was excited as he nodded in fast motion, loving the idea of Kylie visiting tomorrow night. “Of course, Dad! I can also thank her tomorrow for teaching me how to draw houses.” I opened the door and moved back as he bounced into the house. He was growing up so fast, getting so big and smart. I couldn’t have been more proud of him and felt like if I’d done one thing right in my life, it was having him. We’d make dinner for my girl tomorrow night, and then I’d tuck him in bed and remind her just how much she meant to me.

Chapter 16 Kylie I waved my hand until Hunter’s car vanished from sight. I walked toward the store entrance until I saw my mother come out from our convenience store’s back door, staring the whole time as the father and son left the two of us. “That boy is a joy to have around. He is kind, bright, and polite,” my mother spoke, standing beside me as we gazed in the direction where Hunter and Vince left from. I could not disagree with her. Vince was a clever boy who was interested in learning new things and meeting new people. “That’s true, Mom. I am happy we have him around. Even the customers are enjoying seeing him here. His energy is contagious.” I held my chest. It felt like I had a newfound connection to the kid. He was like a son to me. “Yeah, anyone would love to be around Vince. I even like him.” She patted my shoulder, which made me face her. She looked unimpressed, as if the things she just uttered did not match what she was thinking. I looked at her with a confused stare. She continued. “I know you are doing things for Hunter and Vince to help them out in their time of need. I am so proud of you being a kind and big hearted woman I wished you to be.” She smiled at me, but her happy expression soon escaped her face. “But you should look out for yourself too.”

I wrinkled my brows in disagreement, baffled by what she really thought. “Mom.” She ignored me. “Trust me, I know a lot of things, and I have experienced a lot of things. It’s just not right. You should be careful of Hunter and your feelings for him. Remember that you are just helping a neighbor, not pouring yourself into someone else who just sees you as a tool to fulfill his needs.” I shoved her hand away from my arm, agitated by her words. She was acting cruel and bizarre. Hunter wasn’t that type of man, and she knew nothing about what he was going through. “Why are you telling me these things out of nowhere? You don’t know anything about them. Hunter and Vince need help. I can help out; that’s why I’m doing this. I really don’t get why you are acting like this, Mom. You should not judge him based on the way you see the world.” I stormed away the convenience store, taking my things with me. I couldn’t stand listening to her down Hunter another minute. I’d definitely say something that I would come to regret. I could still hear her calling out my name as I drove off, trying to stop me as I left. As much as I wanted to beg for forgiveness, I knew her all too well. Apologizing would only worsen things as she reiterated the words she said and try to push her beliefs onto me. It was getting dark when I finally arrived home. The sun had just set, the day coming near to an end. I stepped out of the car, my head aching. I shouldn’t have said those disrespectful things to my mom. I should have turned the car around. I should have apologized and told her I was sorry for talking back to her. She deserved my respect, nothing less. With guilt running in my chest, it was only when I stepped on the green lawn that I realized that my front door was hanging open again. My pulse spiked, and I stopped in my tracks. Fuck.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the gun I had gotten for this exact situation. I kept my steps as inaudible as I could, clearing my path as I entered the house. I needed to keep myself safe. I could not afford any mistakes this time. I pointed my gun in front of me, just in case something went wrong. As I tiptoed inside the front door, I looked cautiously from all sides. The burglar could be anywhere; I had to be ready to attack if the need arises. I pulled my phone in my pocket, carefully dialing 9-1-1 as I kept my guard around the place. As soon as the other line picked up, I told them to come to my place as soon as they could. “Please hurry up.” Just as I finished saying the last word, I spotted a shadow of a man walking out the back door of my house. He wore all black, and his mask was black as well, covering everything except for his eyes. My hand which held the gun vibrated hard, my heart jumping out of my chest. I could easily shoot and kill my target, but why would I? Instead, he fled without any problem as he crashed through the back door and ran out into the backyard. I melted to my knees, sinking down on the ground. My hands were still shaking desperately as I dropped the gun on the floor. It was the most life-threatening experience I had ever had, and where I was terrified, I still wasn’t willing to kill someone. I broke down and cried. I heard the police car siren pull up, which forced me back into reality. The police came inside and searched the area to see if the burglar was still around. “What happened, miss?” One of the police officers came to my aid, helping me stand to my feet. I tried my best to return to my old self, recalling how things were when I came to my house so I could answer the man’s questions. “I came here and found that the front door was open. I was frightened, but I wanted to

find out what happened. I carried my gun and walked in.” The police officer was jotting down notes as I spoke. “And when I went inside, I saw a man. He wore a black mask and black clothes, so it was hard to get a visual on him.” In between our conversation, Hunter came running over to the house with Vince in tow. He stood beside me and wrapped an arm around me as he held Vince’s hand. “Kylie. What happened?” “Someone broke in again.” I leaned against him. He looked worried and saw that the gun he gave me was still lying on the ground, unused. He picked it up and gave it back to me. The police stared at me with a suspicious look on his face. “That your gun, miss?” he asked. Hunter spoke up. “Yes. She has a permit and a license to carry the gun. She purchased it from my gun shop.” The police nodded, satisfied by Hunter’s statement. He pocketed the notes and pen, turning back to me for additional inquiries. “So, I suppose you know how to use a gun, miss.” Hunter interrupted me. “Yeah, Kylie. I know you can shoot any target accurately, but why didn’t you fire it?” I faced Hunter, my eyes filled with fear. I shook my head, disappointed in myself. “I couldn’t pull the trigger. When I was about to shoot the man, something inside of me stopped me. I just can’t kill another person.” I looked down at the gun, grasping it. The policeman gave me a warm look. “That’s okay, miss. You did the right thing. We don’t know if the man had an accomplice or any weapon. Shooting him might have only caused things beyond your control in case you failed to shoot your target.” He looked over

at Hunter. “You need to stay somewhere else, miss. We can’t let you hang around here, especially now that your doors are broken.” I looked around to see what he meant. Both doors of my house were knocked down by the culprit, the locks broken. I looked around the house. It was a mess. Almost all of my things were scattered about. “I see. I guess I’m going back to my mother’s house then,” I whispered half-heartedly. It felt like a bad move, seeing that we weren’t exactly on good terms. Hunter obviously had other plans for me. “We appreciate you guys for coming, Officer. She’s coming with me,” Hunter intervened, answering on my behalf. “Great. If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll help in investigating the area.” He turned his back and walked away from us. I kept my eyes on him, still in awe as to what he had told me. The fear that consumed me suddenly vanished. It felt like time stopped moving. “Dad. What’s going on?” Vince glanced up and asked. “Not now, buddy.” Hunter turned to face me. “Come on; it’s not safe here.” My heart was beating fast again. It wasn’t due to fear anymore, but the handsome man standing beside me, protecting me. He wanted me with him for the night, and I wasn’t going to refuse him. Not ever. Goose bumps raced down my skin as his hand entwined with mine, holding me tightly as he walked us out of my house. We walked across the yard and walked into Hunter’s house. Hunter released me and walked Vince back to the living room. He crawled up on the couch and started watching some cartoons. I sat down next to him and smiled down at him. “Thanks for coming to save me.” “You bet! Are you okay, Kylie? What were the cops doing at your house?” Those big, green, puppy-dog eyes sparkled as he looked at me.

“Yeah, everything’s okay now. Don’t worry about it, Vince. Nothing you need to be worried about.” I stroked his dark hair. He looked at his father, confirming my statement. Hunter knelt down to stare into his son’s eyes. “She’s right, buddy. But to make sure things are okay, Kylie’s sleeping over so two superheroes can watch over her.” A big grin spread over his adorable face, captivating both of us, without a doubt. “You’re safe here, Kylie. Dad is the strongest hero ever!” Hunter kissed his cheek and took him to his bed, reminding him that it was past his bedtime already. I followed as Hunter took Vince to his room and then went to his own. It felt awkward to watch him make the bed. When he finished, he turned to face me with a smile on his face. “It’s been a long day for you. You can stay in here, and I’ll sleep on the couch.” He walked past me to leave, and my body tensed. I clenched my hands into fists as I listened fervently to his footsteps as he walked out, leaving me alone. I wanted him to stay with me so fucking bad. I wanted him to lie in the bed beside me. I ached for him to stay with me, to tell me everything was okay. I wished I had stopped him, but my head was jacked with all my problems and the long list of things I needed to do. Instead, I collapsed on his bed and tried to relax. I started to fall asleep, his scent lingering around me and calming my frantic heart.

Chapter 17 Hunter The bright rays of the sun welcomed me to the new day, glistening before my closed lids to wake me up. I stretched as I yawned, still sleepy after a few long hours of sleep. I sat up on the couch, taking the blanket off. I sat up and took my phone from the coffee table alongside the couch. While I searched for Garren’s contact number, I thought of what to cook for breakfast. It was the least I could do for Kylie. I needed to pamper her, even just in my own, simple way. As I found his name, I dialed his phone and waited for him to pick up. After a few rings, Garren’s voice finally greeted me a good morning. “What’s the buzz, man? Why are you calling so early?” He sounded as if I woke him up from his sleep. “Garren, I need to take the day off today.” He asked for an explanation right before I was able to provide him one. “Why, dude? What happened?” “Things got out of hand last night. Kylie’s house was broken into again, and she needed a place to stay. I volunteered to keep her around in the meantime. It’s the least I could do for all the help she did for Vince and me.” He fell silent for quite some time. “Yeah, that’s good. I’m happy you’re finally on the right track, Hunter. I’ll get ready to go to the shop, man. No worries.”

“Thanks, Garren. I owe you like ten at this point.” I smiled and dropped the call as he agreed. I did owe him, and knowing him, he wouldn’t let me live it down. I went to the kitchen and checked the pantry. Good thing I’d just gone to grab some groceries. We needed them. Anticipating the dinner date tonight helped somehow. I wasted no time and prepped our first meal of the day. As soon as I finished making our breakfast, I went to Vince’s room to wake him up. There, I found Kylie sitting beside him as Vince showed her some of his drawings. “Look, Kylie! This one is you, and there is Dad. And of course, this one’s me!” I walked to see the drawing, but Vince hid it behind his back. I asked for him to show it to me, but he shook his head and stuck his tongue out instead. “No, Daddy. I’m not showing you this until you can take me to the lake and fish. I plan to give it to you as a present, so don’t cheat and look!” He kept the drawing out of my sight. “Okay, fine, I give up. Let’s eat breakfast instead, buddy. I prepared something special for our beautiful guest.” I held out my hand for Kylie. The three of us sat around our dining table. My mind drifted back to the dinner date I had with Kylie. A simple yet romantic night with her. I put the meal I had prepared on the table, the aroma filling up the entire room. “Let’s see what master chef Hunter has to offer,” Kylie teased, taking a little piece of everything onto her plate. I observed her every move, waiting for her verdict. I didn’t know why but I felt nervous and anxious about what she had to say. I hoped she liked what I prepared for her. “Mmm. I didn’t expect it to be this good. Come on, Vince. Try this out.” She put some of the food on the little guy’s plate and smiled over at me approvingly. Relief flooded me, and I filled up my plate and enjoyed the sounds of them enjoying

the meal. Vince talked the entire time. The kid was too much. “So, I asked Jill why she needed to keep five pencils if she only needed one. Anyway, she has a big sharpener with her,” he narrated, introducing us to one of his classmates. We laughed at his innocent perspective on things. At such a young age, he knew the importance of being resourceful and thrifty. It made me feel a little better as a parent. “Hey, buddy. I forgot to tell you something,” I said when he ran out of things to say. “I took the day off today, so I can spend more time with you and Kylie.” Vince hopped out of his chair, jumping up and down. I took Kylie’s hand and squeezed it tight. She must have felt the same. “I like that idea. I will call Mom to say that I won’t be coming into the convenience store today.” After finishing her meal, she excused herself and called her mother. Vince continued his meal and finished off immediately. “Buddy, you should get that drawing ready for me. We’re going to the lake today.” His face lit up with a bright smile. Standing up from his seat, he ran toward me and hugged me with those tiny arms. “I love you, Daddy.” His words were the best prize I could get for all the work I did. “I love you too, buddy.” I kissed his head while I hugged him tightly. “You better take a bath and get dressed. We’ve got a fun day ahead of us.” He nodded and ran to his room to get his clothes ready for his bath. It was the day I had promised him for a long time. The day he had waited for so long. No disappointing him this time. Kylie returned after she had gone to her house to get some clothes, going alone after she finished her call with her mother. Crossing my arms, I glared at her like a father to his teenage kid. “Why did you go to

your house alone?” She looked terrified by my sudden mood shift. “I needed clothes?” I stepped closer to her, the worry I felt evident through the expression in my eyes. “You know we can’t tell if it’s safe to stick around your house. The trespassers could be anywhere, baby. You should keep yourself guarded at all times.” “I know. I’m sorry.” She nodded, the new clothes she took pressed close to her chest. Trying to ease the tension between the two of us, I tipped her chin to make her face me. Those daring pair of clear blue eyes bore into my soul, reminding me of the spark I felt the first day I saw her. Her beautiful face looked up at me, so delicate and gentle and charming, enticing me with just one look. I tucked her golden blonde locks behind her ear, keeping a strand that fell away from her face. “I want to keep you safe. Help me do that.” “Thank you. I want you to keep me safe too. I’ll help.” I released my hold on her. From the way she looked at me, I knew she felt the same. There was something special between us that I wanted to dive into, but it wasn’t time just yet. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and to prepare for the fishing trip. I proceeded to my room, getting ready myself for the trip. Crazy as it might seem, but I felt a sense of joy having her around. I wanted to protect her. After a few minutes of packing and preparing our stuff for the fishing trip, the three of us ventured to the road. Vince was happy to sit in the back seat, claiming that he wanted Kylie to be beside me throughout the journey. I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman beside me, her body everything I wanted beneath me. A cropped shirt allowed me to peek at her perfect curves, plus the high

waisted shorts she wore fit her flawless legs. The red bandana in her hair made her look cool, keeping her locks away from her angelic face. We arrived at the lake and got out of the car. As I carried our stuff, Vince was eager to begin his search for his catch. He took his fishing rod and marched to the dock, finding the best spot to garner a lot of fish. Kylie walked behind him with an empty tin pail in her hand. I sat down and helped her down beside me, putting our stuff near us as we sat on the side of the lake. Kylie beamed at me with her captivating smile. She watched as Vince waited patiently for his bobber to go under. I couldn’t help but stare at her, memorizing everything I could about her. A smile played along my lips, and I reached out and brushed my fingers down her thigh. “Have you ever been fishing before?” I asked as she looked my way, stealing my breath. She squinted at me while grinning as if her secret was revealed. “First time. You seem to be getting a lot of my first times.” Heat rose up my chest as my cock twitched. The fact that I’d been her first lover meant more to me than she realized. “I want all of them.” I smiled. There was something new about her today. She looked more confident. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I think I’ll visit this place more often.” “So, you love the outdoors?” “Yeah, I love the sea too. I also love hiking. I’m an active person I think.” She was flexing her arm to exhibit an imaginary biceps. What captured my interest was the flesh that peeped out of her torso when her cropped top enabled a sneak peek. She looked fit and athletic, a body every woman would die to have.

“But what surprised me is your cooking prowess.” She teased me with her elbow, smirking at me as she kept those big blue eyes on mine. “I believe you are the better cook between the two of us.” “I give up.” She raised her hands, pretending to surrender. As if on cue, Vince caught his first fish. He screamed happily as he reeled in the catch. Kylie looked surprised. “That’s a big fish, Vince! Way to go!” I took the fish off the hook. The wiggling, huge catch was a big trout, one big enough to eat. We put it in the pail as I put another worm on Vince’s hook, readying him for his second catch. Spending the next few hours teaching Kylie how to fish, and Vince catching the most fish out of the three of us, made the day one of the best I’d had in a long time. We got to ride back home with our ice cooler full of fish. After I had parked the car in the garage, I pulled our equipment and stuff out of the vehicle. Vince was asleep in the back seat, exhausted by his efforts to catch most of the fish in the cooler. After I had carried him to his room, I went to the kitchen where Kylie was cleaning up the plates we had brought along on the trip. “Hey,” I called out and let my eyes run down the back of her perfect body, her ass grabbing my attention like a siren. Turning off the faucet to hear me out clearly, she faced me with her eyebrows raised. Her lips were parted. Even though thoughts of her during that night played before me, I focused my attention on her instead. “Yeah?” “I’m going to check your house, okay?” I waited for a response, but I got nothing.

Instead, she walked forward, closing the gap between us. Her long, thick lashes batted alluringly as she blinked at me, timid in a way that left my body hard and aching. “Please come to your room when you get back. I have to show you something.” Despite the skepticism I felt, I was certain that I need not worry about anything. She smiled at me before I turned my back, leaving the house to check on hers. I walked around the yard, looking for traces of someone breaking in. I found nothing at all. The doors were still blocked the way we had left them. Even on the inside, there was nothing strange. After being assured that everything was okay, I returned to my house. I climbed the stairs, venturing the steps toward my room. I wanted to know what she was dying to show me. As I approached my room, my mind went wild with possibilities. I peeked an eye in the gap of the door and saw Kylie facing the other side, pulling her cropped top off, which left her creamy skin on display. “Hunter.” She turned to face me, her flawless skin exposed, her body so fucking beautiful. The only things she had on was her bra and matching skimpy panties. Her fair skin was inviting me, drawing me nearer. I stepped closer, lured by the beauty that was waiting for me. “I want you tonight.” She touched my face, pulling me closer to her. I wrapped my hands around her waist and leaned in. “You don’t know how much I’ve been controlling myself around you,” I murmured against her mouth, our lips touching tentatively. “Well, stop. I don’t want you to control anything…but me.”

Chapter 18 Kylie I had been dreaming for days about Hunter. I’d ached to hold him in my arms again, to feel his hard body pressed against mine. To have him kiss my lips passionately like the first time was my deepest, darkest desire. Electricity sparked inside of me. Staying the night here in his bed without him was pure agony. I could smell him through the sheets, enveloping me in his warmth as I lay in his bed. Reminding me of his comforting embrace. Despite all of this, I wanted more. I wanted my fantasies to become reality. I would die to have him fill me again, and I would not trade that experience for anything in the world. I had done a lot of favors for Hunter. Most of the time I denied the fact and instead answered with a question of why, but I guessed there was no beating around the bush anymore. I was trapped in the face of the truth. I wanted Hunter. I wanted him to fill me once more. And if I was being completely honest, I’d fallen for him. Long ago. Those hands I had been dreaming of were caressing my bare skin, touching my curves as his lips kissed mine. His skilled mouth was tasting me, exploring my depths. The way

he kissed me was different though—thirsty, passionate, and demanding. He had been hiding the same desire. I could tell from the way he handled me. I stroked his cheek, studying his profile. Once I had been a bystander watching him from afar. A fan that got through the day through merely stealing glances and observing secretly from a distance. Now that my dream was standing before me, I dared to exceed the boundaries. Tonight was my night; it was going to be better than the first one. Tonight, I knew what I wanted; I knew what I was doing. His trimmed beard tickled my fingers. It was one of the most attractive parts of him. The manly, alpha male who ruled the town with his multiple talents and strong, domineering personality. His hands were haunting me, moving upward as our kisses deepened. His fingers fidgeted with the latch of my bra determined to unsnap the bothersome thing. He worked it off of me, freeing my breasts from their cover. He released me from his kisses, taking the time to appreciate the perfectly big and perky tits sitting before him. “I will never get tired of these beautiful breasts.” He pointed the tip of his fingers on each nipple, teasing the most sensitive part of my body. I jerked as his skin touched mine as if an electric current traversed through me. The two of us watched as my pink, puffy nipples turned erect, reacting to the pleasure he wanted me to feel. He looked satisfied seeing my body respond to his touch. He held my hand and pulled me to sit on the bed. I obliged his request like a sex slave ready to serve her master. Kneeling before me, Hunter leaned in and smiled up at me, his breath running across my skin. His seductive green eyes shot me a dominant glare before he leaned down and brushed his lips across my breasts. The warmth of his mouth felt good on my skin. His

tongue played with the tip of my hardened nipples, licking and sucking them with grave fervor. I grasped the bed sheets as I arched my back, fully weakened and submitted to his powerful control all over my body. He moved his mouth down my chest, tasting my skin down to my navel. The intensity of his foreplay was perfect. His hands moved along my breasts, replacing his mouth as he knelt and pressed his lips to my pussy. The tip of his tongue teased my clit, licking it slowly before pressing his tongue against it. I moaned loudly. He watched me closely as he gripped my thighs tightly. He moved his lips gently, sucking the juices from my panties that barely covered me. He began licking in more intense tempo, heightening the lust in between my legs more. I cried out when he pulled my panties down, taking them off to reveal my swollen skin. “You’re so wet,” he whispered, his stare locked onto mine. He leaned back down and pressed his tongue into my entrance, lapping at me as I twitched and panted. I laid on my back, unable to sit anymore. The lust was too intense, too good. The only thing I felt was pleasure. I couldn’t think straight, and all I held tight to was the promise that he was going to fuck me so good, and soon. He licked a finger and pushed it inside of my tight opening. He used his finger to intensify the sweet sensation I felt. The tip of his finger was hitting my G-spot, triggering my first orgasm for the night. I felt the familiar avalanche of unexplainable pleasure build up in my core. The sensation between my legs was too powerful. In the course of his stimulation, the gush of liquid escaped my entrance, wetting his handsome face. He drank all of it before standing and wiping at his face. “So beautiful. You taste like heaven, Kylie.”

Seeing that I was ready to feel him once more, he took his clothes off to reveal his huge, thick manhood. There it was again, the biggest fucking cock I had ever seen. He didn’t even have to be skilled as big as he was, but he knew what he was doing to top it off. He gripped his cock, massaging his robust shaft with his hand. The gargantuan rod was twitching in response to watching me vibrate from orgasm. Heat raced up my spine when I felt the head of his cock tingled my wet opening, getting ready to penetrate my tight pussy. Hunter pushed forward, thrusting his pelvis forward. His ten-inch cock struggled to dig in, but he was determined. He pushed in once again, getting half of his big, fat cock inside of me. Taking the advantage to dominate me more, he pushed in farther. My legs were shaking, my toes barely touching the bed. He bent toward me; his body pressed above mine. He kissed my lips as a distraction while he thrust more, getting his cock acquainted with the inside of convulsing channel. His cock was digging inside of me, pushing its thick, huge shaft in and out of my heat. I could feel how big he was as he buried himself into me. He pumped his hips and groaned as I joined him in a chorus of lust. The strength of his movements was incredible. He was consistently fast, moving in unison with my heartbeat. I could barely breathe, taken aback by the intensity of his thrusts. I moaned in between his lips, breathing the same air he did. He held my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. It made my heart beat louder. I could feel the same since our chest were pressed on each other. Our hearts and breaths were racing, finding their sync through the peak of this delusional love making. There was something different tonight. The way he moved, he was expressing something. His kisses were furious and hungry but begging at the same time. His heart

was chasing mine, but he was telling me something. His touch was hot, but he was more affectionate. Sex with him had become an addiction. Something I had been dying to have, especially now that he seemed to be echoing my emotions. “Condom,” he whispered roughly. “Yeah,” I mumbled and moaned as he moved back and pulled a packet from his pants pocket on the floor. He stretched the condom over his thick cock and smiled at me. “You’re so fucking hot, Kylie. Come here, girl.” He grabbed me and wasted no time pushing back into my wetness. I felt the gush of fluids accumulating in between my legs again. I couldn’t comprehend the strong sensation that ran in my veins. The only thing I could do was close my eyes and hold him closer to me. The power of my sweet release was too much that I lost track of everything else. Then I felt it. The sweet juices flowed out of me, releasing the extreme desire and passion I shared with Hunter. I opened my eyes to see him with eyes closed, moaning in return. His hot, sticky load filled up the condom. Hunter unloaded his orgasm inside of me as he cried out. He was panting heavily as he pulled out and dropped down on the bed next to me. “Fucking amazing. God, woman. I’m falling in love with you. You have no clue what you do to me.” He laid next to me, trying to catch his breath, and appeared in awe of the amazing fuck we had. I looked at him with a smile on my face, satisfied with our shared orgasmic experience. Hunter faced me, his fingers running along my cheeks. He did not reciprocate the smile I yielded. Instead, his expression was serious.

“Kylie, please stay. I won’t let you go until I find out who’s stalking your house.” His green eyes were expressive and bold. The conviction in his voice was endearing. Being around this tough, bad boy was the best thing that had come from the jacked up few weeks I’d had. “Okay. I’ll stay.” I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself and laid my head on his strong chest. He wrapped his arm around me, securing me. It was the best feeling in the world. Without any worries in mind, I fell asleep peacefully in Hunter’s arms.

Chapter 19 Two Days Later Hunter “Your mini-me seemed to be his old self again.” Garren returned to my desk, delivering a gun that a customer was coming in to check out. I worked on the papers, issuing the permit and license for the new gun owner. Vince was reading one of the books Mrs. Tomms gave him days ago. He looked better, finally returning to his cheerful and talkative nature. His cheeks were rosy again. “He’s doing much better. I think getting him on insulin has made a huge difference. I never thought I’d say anything like it, but I’m grateful the little guy got the flu. We wouldn’t have known he had diabetes otherwise.” Garren watched as I signed some of the papers that needed my authorization. “That’s great. Are you still checking his blood sugar regularly?” I handed him the paperwork and stood up from my desk. “Yep. Vince is working hard to live a normal life like the other kids around him. He has taken so well to being a diabetic.” “That’s great to hear. He is in good hands.” He patted my shoulder, giving me praise for being the hands-on father I hoped to become. I looked at him as he busied himself with the book he was reading. “The doctor told me that people with diabetes live completely normal lives. He said Vince is improving

fast. I hope it only goes well from here on out.” Garren gave me an affirmative nod. As we met the customer, I greeted him warmly. I taught him the tips and tricks in using his new gun, as well as the limitations of his use. “The license and permit serve as an evidence of your huge responsibility to society. Owning a gun does not mean you can use it however you want. It means you have accepted the challenge of embracing duties attributed to the power you now have. I may sound silly, but you should always keep that in mind.” The young man who purchased the gun looked at me with a bizarre stare. At some point, I thought I scared him. He looked bewildered by my words, but my anxiety was soon replaced by relief when he burst into laughter. “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.” He had shaken my hand before he left, promising he would return to ask more about using his gun. I had always talked about that to my customers, and I had no plan of removing that stage of the purchase. Garren gave me a sarcastic look he used to irritate me, but I just let out a chuckle. Instead, I returned to my desk and worked on the new issuances I made, collating them based on dates and gun types. No sooner had I sat down than Garren interrupted me. “Man, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.” For the first time, I heard him nervous. I managed to laugh at him, amused by his sudden mood shift. “What is it that made your knees shake?” I asked. He replied with nonverbal language, pointing with his hand over to a man who stood before the display case. I stood up, brows wrinkled on what the fuss was all about.

The man was thin and pale. His expression was unchanging—a bored look mirrored through his eyes. He kept his gaze on the shelves facing him, staring at the snipers on display as Garren and I walked over to meet him. “What can I do for you, sir?” I scrutinized him further as I stood before him. He was a thin man who wore a black shirt and dark trousers. He was holding a hat in his one hand and a duffel bag in the other. He was a new face, someone I had never met before. “I am looking for the Scythe.” His voice was husky and dry. The distinct sound was unmistakable. He searched for the Scythe. “I’m afraid you’re looking for something illegal, sir,” I responded, keeping my eyes on him. He looked suspicious as hell. I had been living around Mesquite for a long time, meeting everyone from around here, but I’d never seen him before. He kept his facial expression consistent. “Yes, I know. I don’t care. I want one.” “Sir, that type of gun is illegal. Normal people can’t buy those without any authorization from the government. It’s a crime to buy or sell something that dangerous.” I explained the rules laid out by the law for him. Despite me explaining further, he didn’t seem to give a shit. “I know that. No need to give me a lecture. So, how much are you selling it for? I’m willing to pay the price; just name it.” The muscles in his face barely moved. The asshole was pushing my limits. I wanted to yell at him, just in case he failed to hear my point. Or perhaps he was up to something fishy. “Why are you buying the gun, sir?” His expression did not change nor did he move. He kept his eyes on mine, his lids half closed suggesting his bored expression. “If you’re not selling the gun, then I think I don’t need to waste any more of your day.

Thanks for your time.” He looked around once again as if memorizing the place. He turned his back and left, letting his voice linger in the air. I tried to memorize any details prominent about him. He was up to something nefarious, no doubt. “He’s a weird looking guy. What a waste of time.” Garren looked pissed, but I felt off. I hoped I could have one more look at him, just in case I could find a clue what he was up to. “Something’s up with that guy. We need to keep an eye out for him. I don’t like the way he thought he could come in here and push us around. Not to mention the asshole wanting to buy something illegal.” I sat back at my desk, still trying to figure out the man’s purpose. There must have been something I missed in the conversation between us. Thankfully, we had a busy day at the gun shop. More customers came by to ask for additional tips about their guns, even requesting for a short gun practice at the range. Some purchased guns, both from new and previous customers. The daily sales were pretty good, enough to surpass the average sales we had for the week before. After we had closed the gun shop, Vince and I drove home. We reached our house safely and found Kylie waiting outside on the front porch. I parked the car in the garage and apologized for getting home late. “Have you been here long?” Vince came running along, bringing his bag with him. “A little bit. No biggie.” She smiled, and my heart raced. I unlocked the door immediately for her to come inside. “It’s been the third day now. I should get my key duplicated so you could have your own.” She shook her head; her cheeks turned rosy pink. “No, it’s fine. No worries about it, Hunter.” Vince sat on the couch and turned on the television. I watched as he took his book out

of his bag, looking eager to continue with his latest book adventure. “You need it. Sometimes, we come home late, and you can’t be outside for too long. It’s for your own safety as well.” I wanted to reach out and touch her, but not in front of Vince. Not yet at least. She nodded, agreeing. “Thank you.” Vince was reading the book out loud, the kid getting down harder words than I had at his age for sure. I laughed as I watched him, distracted by his loud voice. Kylie laughed as well, finding it funny that Vince seemed to notice the awkwardness between the two of us as we tried to figure out what to do. You didn’t sleep with someone twice and then treat them like a friend a few days later. It was on me to make a move, but I needed to figure a few things out first, and I would. “By the way.” I stopped laughing, returning to my sober self. “I’m planning to go hog hunting soon. You should come along. Watch how I shoot the hogs. That way you can learn how to shoot at a moving target.” She stood up straight. She nodded, her eyes determined and eager to witness the scene. “I would like that. I think.” I’d like it too. Any excuse for more time with her was a good enough reason for me to suggest just about anything. “Just in case you see something again, you won’t be afraid to pull the trigger anymore.” I smiled and reached out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears. God, she was beautiful. Insanely so.

Chapter 20 Kylie The rest of the evening was spent doing much of nothing, and I must have been more tired than I thought. I passed out on the couch and woke up in Hunter’s bed alone just after two in the afternoon. I must have been exhausted. I never sleep that long. After scrambling some eggs for the little guy, I dropped down on the couch next to him with a smile on my face. He was growing on me, and I wasn’t sure if I was falling in love with him or Hunter faster. We watched TV for a couple of hours before Vince went to find some of his toys and his coloring book. I hadn’t relaxed so much in forever. It was bliss. Vince was busy coloring the rest of his books while I watched his favorite cartoons on the television. I was getting used to all the kid shows he watched, and honestly, I was starting to like them. “What color do you want, Kylie? Red or pink?” He pointed to the rose that was on the first page of his book. I picked the red one, telling him it’s the prettier of the two. He continued his activity as I kept my eyes on him, amused by how productive he was during his Sunday morning. Sunday was my day off at the convenience store. It was a blessing in disguise, though. Days off during the weekends enabled me to spend more time with Vince, which was quickly becoming my favorite thing to do.

“How about this girl’s hair, Kylie?” He pointed to the next page where a pretty girl held a rose. I smiled at him and picked the color yellow. “That girl looks like me. Curls on the end of the long hair. Golden blonde will do.” He took the crayon happily from my hand, smiling at me as he nodded. “Yeah, she looks like you. Except that you’re prettier.” He returned his attention to the book, coloring in the girl’s hair with the yellow. I stroked Vince’s hair as I watched him enjoy his hobby. Living with the Yonnies was one of the best things in life. It felt like I was a part of a family. Vince was like a son to me. “Are you hungry, Vince?” I asked him, his eyes still focused on the girl he was coloring. “Not yet.” I looked at the clock and stood up from my seat. “Nonetheless, I better get us something to eat before you get hungry. A superhero must not go starving.” I walked to the kitchen to start cooking the meat Hunter left in the fridge from before he left that morning. “Hey. I’m home. Anyone here?” The sound of Hunter’s voice caused my stomach to tighten as I worked in the kitchen. “In here. Just getting dinner together,” I called out, trying not to think about how nice it was to play family with Hunter and Vince. Could it turn into something else? Something more? I prayed it would. “My Aunt Brenda is stopping by to pick up some papers on her way through town.” Hunter moved closer to me and smiled. “You’ll like her.”

“Is she coming in time for dinner?” “I don’t think so. Speaking of dinner. I’m starving. Let me wash up and I’ll be right there.” I watched him go before going into the kitchen and finishing things up. I called Hunter and Vince into the kitchen and prepared our plates. Pork barbecue with stewed veggies on the side. The aroma of the food was truly delicious, making my stomach grumble in hunger. “I told you, you are the better cook between the two of us. Right, Vince?” Hunter smiled as we sat across the table from each other, stealing glances at one another through the whole meal. “Yep,” Vince mumbled through his mouthful, causing us to chuckle. As I took a slice of the pork in my mouth, Hunter surprised me with his plan he had in mind for the night. “After we finish dinner, prepare your gun and get dressed. We are going hog hunting tonight.” “Really? Wait. Where is Vince going to be?” I asked. The plan had my heart racing in my chest. Before, I was looking forward to trying target shooting over moving targets. Now that it reminded me about using my gun again, I felt overwhelmed. I hadn’t used my gun for quite some time and had honestly started to wonder why I even had the damn thing. I needed to do it this time. I was pulling the trigger that night. Period. “Yeah. Where am I going to be, Dad? Am I going too?” Vince asked. As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. Hunter stood and smiled. “Nope. It’s going to take Aunt Brenda a little while to dig through your grandfather’s old chest of

drawers to find what she’s looking for. She’ll be here while you’re off in dreamland.” He winked before walking to the door. I was nervous meeting someone in his family for some reason, but Vince made me feel much better. “Oh, Kylie. You’re going to like Aunt Brenda.” He leaned closer and whispered, “She always brings candy!” “Who’s in here!” An older woman with a great smile walked into the kitchen and Vince yelled and ran toward her. “Come here, munchkin!” “Aunt B, I want you to meet my friend, Kylie. I’m going to take her out to the barn to show her how to shoot. You know, hanging out for a little bit? Shouldn’t be too long.” I extended my hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you.” “You too, dear.” She glanced over at Hunter, still hugging Vince. “I don’t mind at all. Take your time.” After we spoke for a minute more, I walked to the back to change, worried that I was going to mess things up. I wasn’t a gun type of gal, but I’d done all right so far. I took a deep breath and prepared myself both physically and mentally. I knew I should do my best to focus on this hunting. It was the only chance for me to channel my inner strength and confidence for protecting myself. I tied my hair up after changing into my comfortable pants and hoodie jacket. Carrying the gun fully loaded with a complete magazine in it, I went down to meet Hunter in the living room. “You sure that Vince is going to be okay?” I glanced over my shoulder toward the office. I could hear him and Aunt Brenda in there cackling about something. “Oh, yeah. We’ll lock up, and we’re just going out back. Besides, Brenda loves that

kid like he was her grandson. And these bastard pigs aren’t too far. They’ve been tearing up the yard, remember?” “How could I forget.” I walked over to him and put my hand on his chest. “Kiss me.” “Yes, ma’am.” He reached up and cupped my face, pulling me close for a long, probing kiss. I jerked back as Vince called out to me. “I’ll be back.” I smiled and turned, going to check on the little guy. He was either talking in his sleep or I was hearing things. He was out like a light by the time I opened his door. Weird. Hunter was sitting in the living room when I returned, checking one of his long-range guns. He looked like a bad ass killer ready for the shooting battle in the woods. He stood up from his seat, swinging the gun’s attached sling around his body. He walked to the gun cabinet and pulled out a shotgun, surprising me a little. “Do we need something that big?” I smiled as he gave me a cocky grin. “Yeah. Those hogs are huge.” His eyes rolled over me as approval filled his expression. “You ready?” I could feel the nerves returning inside of me. I gulped, nodding afterward as a signal of a thrifty, optimistic answer. “Yeah. I guess.” “Let’s go then.” He held my hand, pulling me out of the house. All the madness and worries in my head vanished in the wind as we walked out under the moonlight. It felt like the first night I spent with him. The night that left an imprint on my entire life. How could I forget that moment I shared with him under the light of the stars and the moon? It made me feel so alive.

While we strolled out in the dark, he led the way toward the back of his yard. The gun practice area he set up was still silent, no signs of anything that rooted up from the green grass. He kept walking, determined to explore the forest and search for the hogs that ruined his properties. Before we laid foot in the area were plenty of trees shaded the wild hogs, he faced me with a threatening look. “Remember, those hogs are not the kindest animals you’ll meet in the forest. They are wild and dangerous. If they spot any enemies or threats near them, they won’t hesitate to battle them with all their might.” His green eyes glistened under the moonlight. I nodded, keeping him aware that I was listening to his reminders. “Also, I’ll let you take the first shot. This time, don’t hesitate. It will not kill the hog, but it will slow him down. Don’t think about it much; I’ll protect you over the course of this practice.” I let out a heavy exhale, but affirmed his words. He released my hand and positioned his gun, holding it in combat mode. I did the same, handling the gun tight. We turned our flashlights on, which was attached to the harness he had me wear before we left the house. As we searched for the hogs, I was focusing on two things. The hogs were the primary goal, but protecting myself and Hunter was of higher importance. I kept my senses sharp as we continued our hunt, trying to be the first to spot the enemy. Just as I was to take another step in the expedition, I spotted one huge hog gazing at me. His eyes were reflecting his madness and need to run me down, eager to kill me before I could do it. My body froze, my fingers glued to the grip on my gun. I remembered the man’s silhouette. The man who laid foot in my house without any permission. The trespasser who took advantage of my property, locking his target on me. I felt the same dangerous vibe from this hog. His eyes were telling me that I should retreat,

that the man and this hog were stronger than me. I could not force myself to pull the trigger. My head was all over the place, messed up with all the things that happened in the past few weeks. The days of threat were not over yet. They would not stop until they got me down on the floor, breathless. Until I heard his voice. “Come on, Kylie. You’ve got this.” Blood began to flow in my veins, forcing me back to my senses. I shot him a skeptical look, but he kept me focused on the hog. “I’ll protect you no matter what. Just do it.” Hunter’s voice fueled the aggression inside of me. It infuriated my heart, recalling the trouble that the man had caused in my life. I needed to take all the threats and enemies down. They deserved to feel my wrath. I raised the gun, pointing it at my target. It felt like my adrenaline had finally kicked in. With all the courage I could muster, I locked on my target and pulled the trigger. The sound of the fire echoed in my ears, signifying the success of my first official shot. He managed to avert the direct shot, leaving him a minor injury in the shank area. For a moment, I thought my failed attempt had only worsened the scene now that hog was charging in our direction, maddened by the inflicted wound. “Fuck,” Hunter grumbled. “Shoot it again. Now. Now!” He handed me the shotgun, which I had no fucking clue how to use. I did what came naturally. I lifted the gun and forced myself into a calm. Another shot and the kickback almost knocked me on my ass. “I’m sorry.” I reached out and touched his back. “It’s okay, baby. No worries. I’m pretty sure you got it, but let’s double check.” He moved closer, and my stomach tightened. I turned my attention on the hog. It was immobile, no signs of life seen from it. The

red, abhorrent fluid trickled down the hole in his skull, drenching its face with its own blood. I walked forward to scrutinize the dead hog, searching for the bullet I bore in his torso. “That was spectacular.” Hunter came out of the dark, his face lit up by the moonlight’s brightness. I caught the deep shot on the hog’s torso just where I envisioned it to be. It was a perfect shot. I stared back at him, my heart still racing in excitement. It was the most unforgettable adventure I had ever experienced. An unbeatable hunt under the night sky with the strong, enigmatic, and attractive Hunter Yonnie. “That was incredible.” I almost screamed out the extreme emotions I felt, but things seemed to change focus. I looked at his face. The face of the man who rescued me from my fucked up life. The clouds unblocked the moon, giving us more light to see each other. My heart was racing with a million emotions. It was restless, but I didn’t care. I wanted something just like this. Especially with him. He stepped closer to me, smiling beautifully as he met my eyes. Those green eyes were dazzling me, causing me to fall into a deep hypnosis under his spell. If he wished to catch me and entrap me, then he won. I surrender myself to him. “You never fail to impress me.” He ran his fingers down my face. I blushed upon his touch, captivated by his charming ways. My heart began to race again. It was a different type of feeling. Something I had been thinking about for a long time, but now I knew the answer. Everything before me was reduced to a blur. All that I could ever picture was Hunter’s beautiful eyes, his expression burying meaning down into my soul.

“No, it’s the other way around,” I whispered roughly, losing my breath as he stroked my cheek. He smiled the sweetest smile I had ever seen in my entire life. He had no clue how much I loved him, and I was too fucking scared to tell him.

EXCESSIVE PART 3 Chapter 21 One Week Later Hunter “Man, this carbonara you brought sure is the best I’ve tasted!” Garren took another mouthful of the pasta Kylie packed before I left for work that morning. She had been cooking delicious meals for us, even packing mine and Vince’s lunch, which was going over the top, but fuck if I didn’t love her for it. “I know. I’ve told her thanks a million times.” I rolled my fork around a thick pile of fettuccini. I checked on Vince, who seemed to like the same, scooping from the Tupperware more carbonara for his second plate. “She seems like the perfect housewife material,” Garren claimed, putting his fork down. “I’m glad she’s around to help you out.” Vince looked at Garren with a bright smile, joining the conversation. “Do you like Kylie’s pasta, Garren? It’s just one of the many yummy things she can cook!” “Yes, little pal. You look better and healthier. Perhaps the good beats helped you a lot to recover.” Garren patted Vince’s shoulder and turned to look me in the eyes. “You like her a lot too, don’t you?” Vince answered the question without any hesitation. “Of course! She’s the best lady I have ever met! Kylie’s definitely the superhero in the house!” His tiny arms leaned on the

table as his eyes sparkled with delight. He turned his gaze on me, waiting for a supporting statement. “Right, Daddy?” I looked down, timid about the whole conversation. I stared at Vince, his eyes waiting for an answer. Slowly nodding to approve his words, I affirmed his praise for Kylie with a smile. “He’s right. She is truly the best woman and the superhero in the house.” Garren gave me a skeptical look, questioning my attitude about Kylie. He knew me too well. A tough man who played with guns, I was the most domineering bad boy in the town. It felt like the man he knew before was now a stranger and before him sat a man with a soft heart for someone he barely knew for weeks long. I avoided his eyes. Thankfully, Vince interrupted the silence, keeping the conversation going. “She also helped me to get to feeling so much better. Kylie never lets me forget when it’s time to take my medicine, and she’s pretty good at giving shots. It’s not painful, Garren! It felt like an ant bite.” Garren smiled. “That’s good news, Vince. Keep it up and follow the doctor’s orders, little pal.” Garren turned to look at me again, his eyes expressing his genuine thoughts. I stared at my plate instead, keeping myself busy with the food still on my plate. I glanced up quickly. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Garren snorted and left me in peace for a few minutes. As soon as we finished our meal, Vince got up and walked to the back office where his books were. Garren and I got to work, cleaning up lunch from the table. I kept my attention on the paper plates and gathered the trash before heading out to the dumpster. As I returned to the shop, Garren stood at the display case, waiting for me. I guessed there was no escaping his questions.

“Can we talk?” Garren’s arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes a clear depiction of worry and confusion. I nodded, pretending to hide the anxiousness inside of me. “Yeah, sure, man. What’s on your mind?” “Your son seems to like Kylie a lot.” I went back to my desk, sitting at my spot by the counter with a bunch of paperwork piled up next to me. “He does. The kid loves her and thinks of her as family.” I tried not to get defensive. There wasn’t any reason to just yet. My time with Kylie had been precious and memorable, and something I wouldn’t trade for anything. It was almost like having a new life with her in it, the type of life I had dreamt of. “And I think what the son likes, the father likes too.” He kept his tone inquisitive. He was right. I was beyond liking at that point, but I held my truths inside. Garren had been too good of an observer, and he wanted nothing else but the best for me and Vince. I kept my mouth shut. Perhaps silence was equivalent to the yes he was trying to get out of me. “Man, look at you. You look like you might barf. Love is too much of a pain in the ass. You know this.” He threw his hands in the air, his tone shifting from concern to aggravation. I looked down, defeated for the first time in a long time. Was it wrong to fall again for another person? Did I not deserve to be happy? “Man, what if shit knocks you out again? What if she leaves, just like what Linda did? That bitch didn’t even look back, Hunter.” He eyes darted toward mine. The sincerity of his words hit me like a thunderbolt straight through my chest. He had a point. But what if

she didn’t? She was worth taking the risk for. “No, Kylie wouldn’t do that. Shut up about it, all right? I don’t meddle in your shit. Don’t meddle in mine. Besides, I’m not sure what I feel or what I’m going to do about it when I figure that shit out.” I closed my hands into fists, indifferent to his angst. I knew Kylie better than he did. She wouldn’t do that to Vince, if nothing else. Where she might be falling for me, she was totally sold out for Vince. “Vince is growing up. If she leaves, he will know how it feels to lose someone. Before when Linda left, he was still a baby and had no damn clue what was going on, Hunter. He had no clue that his mother would never return again.” He began to gather himself, returning to his calm, reluctant nature. I stood up, my fists at my sides. “Thanks for your concern, Garren. I really appreciate how you’ve been supporting me and my son for all these years. But, man, I won’t give up on Kylie. She is too good for Vince and I. I won’t let her go. Period.” * It was closing time in the gun shop. Things had been quite awkward between Garren and I, but we kept things professional. After I had locked up, I bid farewell to my best friend and left. Vince and I drove home hungry. The day was long and tiring, and the inflow of customers had been a bit ridiculous. The little guy had a blast finishing two books and proceeded to tell me the stories that he read as we went home. “What did Kylie cook for dinner, Dad? I’m so hungry!” He was imitating Cookie Monster’s voice, far too cute for his own good.

I laughed at him, finding it amusing to see my son in such a good mood. “Let’s not guess, but go see instead. Last one to the door is a rotten egg.” I got out of the car, pausing as he bolted from his side and ran as hard as he could to the front door. Jogging after him, I caught sight of Kylie coming out of the front door to meet us. The smile on her pretty face had my heart fluttering. No other woman I’d met before had me feeling so tender, so in love. It was a little concerning. “Come on in, guys. The table is ready, and dinner just got done.” I waited until Vince bopped into the house to pull her close to me and kiss her softly. “Did I mention how much I appreciate you?” “You just did.” She squeezed my butt and kissed me again before turning and following after Vince. I could smell the sumptuous meal she prepared for dinner. I went inside the house, wanting to know what she had cooked as badly as Vince did. The spread on the table was awesome. Beef skirt steaks in gravy, rice, rolls, and sautéed vegetables. She even made colorful gelatins for dessert, something not too sweet for Vince to control his blood sugar. “Damn, woman, this is too much,” I grunted appreciatively as I sniffed the inviting meal before me. She giggled as her pretty cheeks turned pink. “I wanted to do something special for you guys.” “Thank you, Kylie. We have never been this happy until you came.” Vince slipped into his seat and grinned up at both of us.

I reached for her hand, pulling it to my mouth and kissing her hand. “The boy is onto something for sure.” She smiled sweetly before pulling her hand from mine and sitting between me and Vince. “I’m happy to help anytime. You know I love taking care of you boys.” Vince talked nonstop through the entire meal, impressing Kylie with how far he had read for the day. Kylie expressed her excitement for him and laughed at every joke he told. I reveled in her attention and love toward my son. Where I never thought I would find anyone that I’d be willing to raise Vince with before, now I knew she was the one. Then what the fuck was I waiting on? I wasn’t waiting. I was locked behind fear. Linda left with another man and crushed my world, leaving me a single dad and forcing me to consider that I wasn’t enough. If I were, she would have stayed. Or at least I used to think so. I wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe that shit had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with her. Kylie turned to look at me while Vince finished his meal, focusing on the blue Jell-O that sat on his plate. “Hunter, I’m going to Bailey’s place on Saturday. Just to catch up with my best friend and her daughter. Is that okay with you?” She laid out her plans, waiting for my approval. I nodded, seeing she needed some time out with her girlfriend too. “Yeah, no problem. You should enjoy the weekend.” I smiled at her as she grinned at me. She turned to look at Vince who was still wrapped up in his dessert, amused by the wiggly texture of the gelatin. She glanced back over at me. “Can I take Vince with me? I bet he will have a lot of fun meeting Bailey’s two-year-old, Cat.” Upon hearing his name, Vince looked up. He was begging with his puppy eyes,

clinging to Kylie’s arm for support. I laughed upon seeing them work me again…both of them ganging up together to get their way. Funny enough, I would have given it to them anyway. “Sure, but you need to promise me that you keep an eye on Kylie. Superhero duties, buddy.” Vince saluted me, mimicking a soldier’s sign of affirmation to his commander. “Yes, sir!” He deepened his voice, trying to sound cool, but turned out to be another Cookie Monster tone. The three of us burst into laughter. After we had finished our dinner, Kylie cleaned up the mess and washed the dishes though I told her to wait and I’d get it done. It only seemed fair seeing that she’d cooked the delicious meal. I returned to the kitchen after tucking Vince into bed. I could see how much she worked hard to help us. She had been trying her best to make Vince healthier and happier, plus doing everything to give me time to work. I kept taking, but I knew I wasn’t giving nearly enough. Fuck me for that. I watched as she washed the dishes in the sink, amused by how precious she was to us. It was like an angel fell from the heavens above. I was lucky to have her. As she finished, she caught sight of me watching her and turned. She looked surprised by my presence, but she posed a kind smile as she wiped her hands on a dishrag. “I thought you went upstairs already.” She kept her eyes on mine, stealing my heart with her innocent tone. I shook my head and signaled for her to come with me. “Get out of this kitchen and come here.” She smirked at me and followed. I reached back to take her hand, my pulse spiking as

she intertwined her fingers with mine. As we reached my room, I let her in and locked the door. She sat on the bed, her eyes undaunted. She was smiling at me beautifully, her brows raised as if still trying to figure out what the hell I was up to. “Thank you for everything, Kylie.” I stepped closer, my breathing getting off kilter as I watched her. “Of course. I would do anything for you.” She smiled and reached for me as I sat down next to her and pulled her close. “I believe it,” I whispered roughly, loving how she looked up close. Angelic. She closed her eyes, waiting for my kiss. I let my heart guide me. Our lips touched once again, a feeling I had been aching for the past few days. I laid her on the bed with me and moved on top of her, pressing her down as my cock swelled in my pants. I’d had a perpetual hard-on since getting home and seeing her in the kitchen, but her soft body pressed against mine was enough to undo me. My lips left her mouth as I kissed her slowly down her body, tasting her neck. I stood up, eager to see her perfect body once again. I wasted no time and stripped her down to nothing. She laid on my bed naked, beautiful and flawless. I could not take my eyes off of her, the goddess who wanted me. Maybe I was enough. I knelt before her, spreading her legs and leaning forward to run my tongue through her soft folds. “So beautiful.” “Hunter,” she whimpered and spread her legs farther. I sucked her clit into my mouth and rolled my tongue over the tight ball of nerves. Her pussy was wet by the time it opened like a flower before me. I blew cold air onto her damp skin to tingle her. She grasped my hair and pulled me close, forcing me to take her

back in my mouth. “Own me, Hunter.” Her voice was the sweetest tune I’d ever heard. I never knew how much I wanted to have her for myself before. Now, it was different. I wanted her for more than what she was capable of doing to my body. I plunged my fingers into her soaking pussy, eager to hear her come for me. My body was burning in lust. I looked up to her, watching her every move. Her face was beautiful yet vulnerable. She opened her half-closed eyes, looking at me with so much need. I could tell that my eyes were burning in flames, expressing the same deep desire I had. Love me. Let me love you. Stay with me. “I want you to stay in my bed tonight with me, Kylie. Please don’t go.”

Chapter 22 Kylie His eyes were on mine as I laid before him, bare for him to see. I wanted him to continue what he was doing, but he stopped and stared at my eyes. I took the urge to push him toward my need, unable to wait for what he was planning to say. He obliged to my command as I pushed his head down again. “Please don’t stop.” “Never, baby. Come for me.” His eyes were still on mine, passionate and aroused and haunting. As much as I wanted to keep my eyes open and watch his spectacle, I simply could not. The sensation was just too powerful. I arched my back as I felt his tongue on my clitoris gently licking my erect bud with the tip of his tongue. He was eager and thirsty, keeping his mouth on me. I could not stop moaning in desire, delighted by the intensity of his carnal desire. “So close. I’m so fucking close.” I couldn’t believe that it was me who was speaking. He obeyed my request, intensifying the vigor of his insatiable feast. I could feel his tongue licking my pussy lips, fast and ardent in tempo. I opened my eyes and stared at him; seeing his wild gaze on me made me more delirious in lust. His finger drove deeper and deeper into my tight channel, forcing me open, preparing me for his huge cock. I moaned once more, shaking in pleasure as I felt him inside of me. I released my grasp on him to hold and squeeze my breasts. He moved his hands up, replacing my hands on my tits. I held his hand as he kneaded my tits, guiding him in the way I wanted my

breasts massaged. He pushed his tongue in and out of my pussy, causing me to release more come as he drank from me. My body was shaking in desire, orgasming several times by his skilled mouth. Seeing my pussy soaked, he stood up, stripped off, and laid on the bed. I sat up and knew he wanted me to return the favor. I leaned in between his legs; he seized my arm and stopped me. “No, sit on me.” He was staring at me with ardent eyes, lust running through his veins. “Grab a condom from the top dresser drawer and ride me.” I did as I was told, getting the rubber and sliding it down his swollen shaft. “God, I love how big you are.” I positioned myself on top of him and licked my lips. “You’re everything I want in bed, Hunter.” “The feeling is mutual, beautiful girl.” He reached up and palmed my breasts as I held his shaft, thick and throbbing, in my hand. Gliding the tip of his head along my lips as I hovered above him, I lubricated his cock with my wetness. After getting his head nice and wet, I pressed back, impaling myself on his shaft. “Oh, fuck,” he grunted loudly. His huge cock was struggling to enter inside of me, its thickness pushing its way in. I sat slowly as I kept him straight, managing to push him in halfway. Just when I was about to breathe and relax, he pumped his pelvis, thrusting his cock deep within my core. I let out a long, delighted moan as his giant dick went inside of me. My body was shaking in pleasure, his cock once again filling the missing piece inside of me. He slapped my ass and directed me to move, which I did as another orgasm built deep in my stomach. I put my hands on his muscular chest, finding fortress as I moved my ass up and down, milking his thick erection. I could feel him deep inside of me, twitching and

fighting the tightness of my pussy. At first, I struggled to move due to his big size, but as I continued, my body molded to his and began to move faster. Riding him as fast as I could, I pumped his grand cock inside of me, my body screaming in delight. In and out he went, his eyes moving up and down my body, his expression filled with lust. I paused and changed my routine, grinding my hips on his extremely big dick. “Yeah, keep going.” It fueled the lust in me, making me more motivated to pleasure his cock. I swung my hips as fast as I could, fucking him hard and fast. Hunter’s face was mirroring his intense passion and delight over the movement I did. His lips were parted, his eyes on mine, expressing fire. I collapsed on his body and kissed his lips. The taste of his kisses were divine, the best thing I ever had. He welcomed me with a deep kiss, smothering me with the intensity of his lips. I submitted myself to him, but I continued to move my hips. My ass was shaking as I moved, fucking his cock with all my might. It felt like his cock was sucked in by my tight pussy, my lips sipping at him inside of my core. I released him from my kiss, preparing to surprise him with my trick. He watched me as I leaned backward, putting my hands on his thighs as his cock pulled away from him. I caught him wrinkling his brows in response to this; his lips parted. He would love this new move, and I was ready to serve his desires. I locked my eyes on him, keeping my sight to watch how he looked like while I fucked him good. I bent my legs a little while they were spread, enabling Hunter to see my pussy as I bounced on his huge, fat cock real good. I pumped my hips, moving up and down as I began to fuck myself again. Slowly and deeply his cock went inside of my pussy. He gripped my thighs and nodded. “That’s it.

Work me, Kylie. Use that big fucker to bring yourself over.” As I caught my stance, I fucked his colossal cock faster. I bounced up and down on him, my breasts jiggling in the motion. His moans heightened, delighted by the movements I made. I began to move at top speed, grinding his cock deep inside of me. He reached up and brushed his thumb against my clit, and I cried out, feeling so naughty and loving every minute of it. “More!” He met me stroke for stroke, forcing me to ride the full length of him. Our rhythm was precise and perfect, our bodies meeting in the middle at every thrust. I felt my body become tense and weak as his cock went deeper and deeper with every thrust, causing me to moan with him. The same wave of delight in between my legs crippled from my spine down to my core, signaling the nearness of my peak. He kept on pumping his cock in and out of my pussy, causing our bodies to mash up in every meet. My hands were starting to shake, unable to carry my weight any longer as we carried on with the intense sex. My legs were vibrating as I splashed my cum all over his body, my fluids expelling his huge cock out of my pussy. He wasted no time and put his giant cock in again as soon as the fluids flowed out. Seeing him drenched in cum gave me another sense of desire and pleasure, keeping my rhythm with him despite my body still shaking in my latest release. I could feel his big cock hitting my G-spot again, triggering another avalanche of orgasm inside of my body. It was just minutes since my last release, but it felt like another one was yet to come. Seeing how my body reacted to the immaculate sensation, Hunter began to swerve his cock harder and faster at his top speed. He was both soaked in sweat and cum, submerged in the spell of desire and lust. I did not want to be defeated as I pumped harder, moving him in and out with my every enthusiastic bounce.

“Oh, fuck, I’m cumming again.” I felt my pussy vibrating once more, the cum pushing its way out of my body. I pushed his huge cock again as I squirted once more, my body shaking in delight. He was smirking at me as he pushed his cock without giving any time for me to recuperate. He looked mad, eager to redeem his fair share of orgasm. I was depleted, but I fought him, not wanting to disappoint him in the slightest. I bounced again as rapidly as I could, yielding my remaining energy reserves for his cock to feel. My hands were shaking so fucking bad, but I pushed hard, pounding my pussy to meet his swollen erection. He was doing the same, fucking me with all that he could give. I could see that he was near his peak as his cock twitched hard inside of me, moving on its own. Just when I was to release my third orgasm, he cried out and joined me. I collapsed beside Hunter, my energy fully used up. Despite my chase of breath and depleted reserves, I was smiling at Hunter, satisfied by the most intense and outrageous fuck of my life. “Wow, just wow.” Hunter was gasping in between his breaths, tired by the vigorous sex we’d had. I laughed at his words, resting my head on his chest as I stared into his green eyes. He looked so perfect. I never wanted to take my eyes off of him. “You are an angel. A sex kitten. You know that?” He brushed his hand down the back of my head and kissed the tip of my nose. “No woman has taken me the way you do.” I wrinkled my brows, finding his words exaggerated and overrated. I shook my head, the smile on my face permanent. “Don’t flatter me with your flowery words.” I bit my lower lip, smiling at him as I

gazed into his handsome face. He looked at me with keen, expressive eyes, expressing the sincerity of his words. “You have always been beside us all the way. I can’t thank you enough. And even more than that, my heart is getting wrapped up in you. Be careful, lest you break it, okay?” He leaned closer, kissing my lips again. I welcomed him warmly, kissing him back passionately. As I released his lips, I stared at him with so much desire. “You and Vince are the best blessings I have. I would never break your heart, or his. Never.”

Chapter 23 Hunter “Where’s Garren?” Vince was looking around the gun shop, searching for my best friend. The two of us were alone today for work. I watched as my son sat back at my desk table, returning to the books he promised Kylie he would read for the day. “He just called in and said that he would skip work today. Some important matters, he said.” I was guarding the display cases as I waited for customers to walk in. I looked at my son who nodded and opened one of his books, committed to fulfilling his promise to Kylie. “Vince, are you really going with Kylie tomorrow?” I was hoping for Vince to come along with me and spend some quality time with his dad. Unfortunately, he nodded, and his eyes begged for him to tag along with Kylie’s visit to her friend. “Yes, Dad. I want to see Cat. I will be happy to play along with a cute and cuddly baby.” He was pinching the air, imagining the soft cheeks of Bailey’s adorable toddler before him. I scratched my head, submitting to his wish. “Well, then I guess I can’t stop you.” I knelt before him, stroking his dark hair as I stared into his eyes. “But you have to promise me that you won’t eat too many sweets. Check your blood sugar too, okay? Ask Kylie to inject the insulin on a schedule, okay?” “I got everything, Dad.” He showed two thumbs up, smiling at me as he returned to my desk table. He sat and picked up one of the books, continuing reading to meet his quota for the day.

I let out a heavy exhale as I watched him read. My little boy was growing up so fast. My attention turned to the customer walking up to the gun store. He was beaming brightly as he approached me, greeting me with a friendly introduction. “Good morning, son.” He extended his hand, offering me a handshake. I took it and smiled at him, ready to entertain the man. “Likewise, sir. What are you looking for today?” He adjusted his round rimmed glasses as he looked at the shelves. He was an old man, around his late sixties, but he had a good physique and toned body. He had graying hair and a few wrinkles here and there. He had an accent like that of a Texas native, but I’ve never seen him before. “You got a lot of good collectibles here. How long have you been working in this gun shop?” he asked as he turned around to look at the vast shop filled with varied sorts of guns and weapons. “Almost a decade, sir.” I watched him, thinking of his background or occupation. From his stance, he looked like a man who had undergone tough training. “Sorry, sir. But I’ve never seen you around. Where are you from?” His eyes were on the guns, studying the shelves of the long range rifles behind me. Finally, he turned his attention to me after a few seconds of silence. “I was born here in Mesquite. I have been living here since I was a kid until I left for college in Missouri. I stayed there until I had my own family. It has become a rare chance for us to come back to my hometown, but now I have the opportunity to return.” He looked like a candid man with a lot of heart for his hometown. He pointed to one of the guns in the display case, asking me more about it. “How about this one? Is this a good gun?” He was pointing over to a .45 ACP

handgun, one of the best weapons to use in a fight against another man. It wasn’t a hunting gun, but rather fitted for a duel with a human enemy. “That’s great for self-defense, sir. It can literally blow big holes in just about anything you point it toward and shoot.” I showed him the gun in the case as he examined it fervently. He looked impressed, but he put the gun down on the glass counter. He nodded and walked more, keeping his eyes on the guns displayed. I smirked, realizing that his question a while ago was a trick question to test my knowledge about the gun. “As soon as I heard about the famous Hunter Yonnie, I swore to myself that I’d pay you a visit. The rumors are true; you are truly a gun expert with the biggest gun collection in town.” I turned to look at him, amused by his awareness about me and my business. After entertaining himself with the abundance of guns around him, he turned to face me with a smile on his face. “Well, I came around to buy a gun for my son. What do you think about a 9 mm Semi-Automatic?” I stared at him with confused, startled eyes. He was talking about a pretty deadly handgun. It was considered one of the best weapons that soldiers used in battle. It was more powerful and had plenty of rounds compared to the other types of guns. Only an expert killer or someone with a dire need to protect himself would own such a mighty weapon. “I guess your son is a pro, then?” He answered me with a laugh, but he avoided the question. Something was off. The guy was too nosy and a bit suspicious. I could not allow him to walk out of my shop with a fatal gun with him unless he answered me properly.

“How old is your son, sir?” I posed another question, hoping for a sensible reply from him. He shot me a baffled look, intimidating me with his sarcastic stare. “Is that necessary?” He gazed for the 9 mm, finally finding the power tool sitting beside the other supreme handguns. His eyes were glistening as he looked at it with excessive want, or a bit of greed maybe. “It is in this shop, sir. Someone who wishes to own a gun must be at least twenty-one years old. Plus, I’d rather not sell the gun to anyone other than the user of the weapon. We usually go over a little bit of gun safety and keep our purchase records together just in case. I’m sure you understand.” I clarified my point, stressing the matter. If he was an enthusiast, he should have known about this. “Oh, is that so?” He sounded as if he were mocking me, as if he could purchase a gun without any restrictions. He turned his back and faced the exit, retreating from the shop with a wave of his hand. “I guess I’m buying the gun in another shop then.” As soon as the old man walked out of the shop, I followed him. Vince watched in silence as I followed the man outside. I kept my guard up, making sure that my cover was safe. I caught a glimpse of the old creep meeting another man waiting for him at the end of the parking lot. They were talking about something, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was too far away. I couldn’t see who he was talking to because he was in the way, but chill bumps raced down my arms and legs. With the guy breaking into Kylie’s place, maybe I was being paranoid. Overthinking things. Finally, the old guy got in his car, and I could see who he was talking to. I recognized the younger guy’s face. He was the same man who came into my shop a few weeks ago. The one who wanted to buy the illegal Scythe.

Coincidence? I didn’t think so. * Since there were no customers for the rest of the day, I decided to close the shop early and head over to meet Kylie at the convenience store. Vince was happy to meet her because he had fulfilled his promise to her. I kept his good mood intact, deciding not to tell him about the danger I could sense from the eerie men that visited my shop. As soon as we arrived in the Tomms’ convenience store, Vince got out and ran inside to meet Kylie and Mrs. Tomms. Seeing him this gleeful made me forget about my worries for the moment. I entered the store to see the two women greeting Vince. Mrs. Tomms was hugging my son. “Did you take your medicines on time?” she asked, her face filled with worry. She treated him as a grandson, which left me liking her more than I did upon meeting her. She was a good woman, and we were lucky to have not only Kylie in our lives but her too. “Yes, Nana. I also finished the books you gave me! I promised Kylie I would read them all today!” He turned toward Kylie, smiling at her from ear to ear. Kylie gave him a high five. “That’s awesome, Vince. I knew you could do it.” “Hi, Mrs. Tomms.” I walked over, joining their tiny reunion. She turned to face me, smiling as I walked up to meet them. “Hello, Hunter. Thank goodness you came. We needed to lift some boxes from the back, but Kylie and I couldn’t even drag them. Can you help us?” she asked, but Kylie frowned.

I laughed out loud, ready to help them. “Sure, Mrs. Tomms. Let’s go.” I followed her lead as we walked to the back portion of the store. Several boxes were stacked around the area. I looked around, seeing three huge boxes piled together. “The courier left them there without even asking where I wanted to put them. Too bad they were heavy.” From the label on the boxes, they were purified drinking water bottles. I lifted one as she led me through the store, telling me whether to go left or right. After managing to put two boxes inside, I caught a glimpse of Vince helping Kylie with refilling the shelves. They looked perfect together. The two most important people in my life together. “Come on, Hunter. There’s still one outside.” I nodded at Mrs. Tomms, following her orders. As I went out to carry the last box, I spotted someone watching from a little ways away. He wore an all-black shirt and pants, with a black cap to cover his eyes. Even though he wore dark clothes, it was clear who he was. He caught my eye as I stared at him. He looked unfazed, as if he was ready to compete with me anytime. His pale face stood out from his dark clothing. I even caught him smirking as we engaged in a standoff. “Hey, Hunter, what’s taking so long?” I heard Kylie’s voice calling out to me. She had just walked out went out of the back door when the man took off running. I looked at Kylie, who seemed surprised, her mouth open, eyes wide. “What’s the matter, Kylie?” I asked, trying to read her mind. She didn’t speak but seemed to be having a little trouble breathing. I came closer to her, shaking her shoulders to wake her up. “Hey, baby?” “That guy looks like the one who broke into my house.” She was still staring at

toward where the guy was. From the look on her face, she was terrified. I held her in my arms as I took her inside, hoping to give her some sense of security. Telling her that the pale scoundrel was looking for an illegal gun would not be the wisest move. She couldn’t handle anything else. And besides, I could figure this out and deal with the fucker myself. She was my girl. He’d have to go through me to get to her. Period.

Chapter 24 Kylie I spent most of the evening trying to shake off the sense of trepidation sitting on my shoulders. It worked when I was deep in conversation with Hunter or Vince, but any time alone, and I found myself terrified. I got into bed with Hunter that night, snuggling up to him and trying to rid myself of the fear that clung to me. He was sweet and checked on me a million times, but there was nothing he could do. I wasn’t imagining things. The guy who broke into the house was the one outside of the store. Why though? Was he targeting me? Did he know me? My thoughts stayed with me throughout the night, but finally, sleep overtook me, and I passed out, dreaming of a wedding dress and a handsome guy standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me to start our forever. The morning awakened me with its cool breeze. I squeezed closer to Hunter, pulling my blanket to cover my shoulders, but I guessed I would not be falling back to sleep anytime soon. My mind was wide awake at that point. I squinted to find Hunter fast asleep beside me, his eyes closed in peace. His lashes were long and thick, a beautiful complement to his adorable face. His lips were parted a little, showing his perfectly carved, pinkish lips. I stole a kiss from him while he slept. I stretched out from under the sheets, sitting up to stare out the window. It was starting to get bright outside. I stood up and yawned, smiling as I watched Hunter sleep comfortably in his bed. I pulled his blanket up, covering him against the cold. He had

moved a little before I left the room, changing his position, but he was still lost to the world. Despite my shitty night the night before, I had a renewed strength and vigor for the day. It had to be my dreams of marrying the man I loved, but whatever it was, I felt like luck was back on my side. I believed that it would be a great day. I proceeded to the kitchen to make some coffee and prepare our breakfast. I hummed joyfully as I fried some eggs and bacon. I fixed the coffee next and then set the table for the three of us. About that time, Hunter came in from upstairs and settled into his seat. I brought him a cup of coffee as he watched me, smiling brightly with his eyes still squinted from sleep. “Good morning, sleepyhead. You look like you just woke up from a deep sleep.” I laughed at him to which he rolled his eyes. He still looked adorable though. “I still look handsome, though.” It was me who then rolled my eyes back at him. I turned my back to get the other cup I had left in the kitchen. He was right; he still looked handsome. Coming back with a mug in my hand and a glass of chocolate milk in the other, I returned with a big grin on my face. He looked at me with a teasing glare, mocking me about telling him how good looking he really was. “You haven’t answered yet, Miss Early Bird.” he kidded, waiting for me before he ate his breakfast. I nodded with a forced expression, pretending to be cocky. “Answered what exactly?” He laughed at me, ridiculed by my expression. “Whether you agree that I’m handsome or not.” “Was there a question in that?” I licked my fork and gave him a sultry look. He knew

exactly how I felt about him. Handsome was an understatement. He was a god. As I took an egg, he took his meal as well. Just when we were beginning to eat our breakfast, Vince came from his room, rubbing his eyes as he sat to eat with us. “Come on, buddy. Eat up.” Hunter called out to him after taking a bite from his biscuit. Vince dragged his feet, still sleepy, but he sat and ate his breakfast. We finished our meal full and happy. I went to clean up and wash the dishes, but Hunter stopped me and volunteered to do the work. “Go get dressed. It’s your day off today; you should enjoy it.” I kissed his cheek as a sign of thank you and ran upstairs. Vince got ready for our day too, far too happy for our visit. He was beyond stoked to see a baby and to help take care of her. Not that he helped much, but we would make him feel like he did. He needed a sibling. Bad. As soon as I finished getting ready, I returned downstairs to meet Vince. He looked cute as always as Hunter tied the shoelaces of his rubber shoes. He gave Vince the insulin kit and reminded him of his rules, telling him he should not forget everything “Yes, sir!” Upon seeing me, Hunter stood up and patted Vince’s head. He turned to me and held my shoulders before leaning in and kissing my cheek. “Take care of Vince for me, hm?” “Of course I will.” We always had this type of sendoff whenever the two were to part. It was sweet and thoughtful, but I memorized it perfectly well. Perhaps every parent should be as overprotective as Hunter was. He watched as the two of us left, driving to Bailey’s house for the whole afternoon. Hunter was smiling as he waved, Vince doing the same to his father.

* We arrived at Bailey’s house faster than I expected. The drive was quick and hassle free. Vince grabbed his backpack after I turned the car’s engine off, staring at me to wait for my signal. I smiled at him and unlocked the doors, nodding at him that he could now get out of the car. “Let’s go, buddy!” “Yes. I’m so excited!” he squeaked as he got out of the car, eager to see the cute little girl. I got out and took his medicine kit, pocketing the keys to my car. I rang the doorbell and waited for a few seconds before Bailey opened the door. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you!” She wrapped her hands around me, hugging me as if she hadn’t seen me in the past few years of her life. I spotted Cat crawling on the floor, looking at who came to visit her and her mother. “Oh, there you are, little Cat.” I untangled from Bailey’s tight embrace and went straight to Cat. I carried her in my arms and kissed her cheek, missing the cute little angel for weeks. Vince came closer, holding baby Cat’s hand as he stared at her. The little girl smiled at him, revealing her tiny teeth in a cute grin. “She’s so cute,” Vince said to me, looking at the baby girl before him. “I want a sister. Do you think Dad will ever have more kids? Like brothers and sisters for me?” “I’m sure he will.” I smiled down at him before putting Cat down and urging Vince to go into the living room with her. I turned to Bailey and caught her smiling, mesmerized by the thought that her little girl finally had someone to play with. “Come on; I baked some chocolate cupcakes for you two,” she claimed, taking me to

the kitchen. I gave her a disappointed look. “What?” She gave me a baffled stare. “Vince is diabetic. I told you a million times already.” I crossed my arms, dismay on my face as I stared back at her. Bailey slapped her forehead. “Oh, shoot. Yeah, I totally forgot. I guess I’ll just be treating him out with pizza. You okay with that?” She looked at me with an apologetic gaze. “He can have a piece or two, but I’ll have to give him a shot. Bread turns into sugar in the body too.” Vince would love it, and I’d just count his carbs and keep him safe. Besides, I hadn’t had pizza for quite some time, anyway. We left the kitchen and headed to the living room, finding the kids playing great together. Cat was holding a puppet in her hand while Vince was speaking on behalf of one of her stuffed toys. We watched as the two had a blast together, finding it cute to see them enjoy each other’s company. “How old is Cat again?” I asked Bailey, teasing her about Cat liking Vince. She rolled her eyes in reply but answered anyway. “She’s going to be three on Saturday of next week.” She changed the cartoon channel to the Lifestyle channel as the kids were completely engaged in the game they were playing. “Oh, Vince is five. They could be matched together,” I whispered. “Looks like Cat has a new boyfriend.” She gave me a shove then laughed out loud. I could not help but laugh as well, getting used to the jokes we always played on each other. The two kids watched as we shared the happiness, clueless as to why we were laughing.

“Don’t mind us, Vince. It’s okay; we’re just catching up.” Vince nodded and smiled, turning his attention back to Cat’s toys. The little girl played with him, thrilled to meet a new playmate. “You are so silly. If there’s someone who’s getting a new boyfriend here, that would be none other than you.” She pointed an accusing finger at me. I blushed upon hearing her words as if trapped in the interrogation room and caught in the act I had been hiding. “So, how are things really going right now between you and Mr. Yummy Pants?” “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m really happy with what we have right now. It feels like we’re a family. I know he has feelings for me too, but we have not talked about it yet.” Talking about it caused my heart to race. I could not erase the smile on my face. “You are glowing more than ever. I guess you’re the happiest woman on Earth now, right?” She looked at me with a grateful expression. Just before, she was cautioning me to slow things down and distance myself from Hunter. Maybe she realized that he was a great man. The type who did not take the women who helped them for granted. “For sure, and you don’t know the half of it,” I answered her with a naughty look. She pushed me once more, knowing what I meant. We laughed again, having more fun than we should have. * I looked at the clock and saw that it was already 11:49 in the morning. We had already talked about a lot of things, and the kids had been starting to feel their tummies growling. Bailey stood up and decided that we should head out to eat some pizza. “Who likes to eat pizza? Raise your hands!”

The two kids shot their hands up into the air. I raised my hand as well, joining them. Bailey was raising her hand as well, causing the kids to giggle happily. The four of us left the house and went out to eat, Bailey’s treat. The two were getting along together so well. It made me happy seeing Vince smile and laugh. Bringing him with me was a good decision after all. I held his hand as we walked into the restaurant and slid into the booth next to him, my heart overfilled just from being with him. I wanted a family. A son. Being with Vince almost let me pretend that the impossible was suddenly possible. Maybe I wouldn’t end up alone in life. “Can I look at the menu?” he asked politely. I requested a menu from the waiter and handed it to Vince when it arrived. “Here you go. There’s so many. Good luck.” He smiled up at me. “Which is your favorite?” “I like them all.” I reached over and rubbed his back. “See which you like and we’ll get that one for sure.” “Have you made up your mind?” Bailey glanced our way, waiting for our answer. “Cheese please!” Vince and I answered in unison. Little Cat laughed heartily upon hearing us, finding it funny that we both had the same interest. Bailey called the waiter and gave him our orders. After the waiter had taken our orders and menus, Bailey stared at me but didn’t say anything. As the orders came out, the kids tore the pizza up. They ate with big smiles, grateful to eat something tasty. I enjoyed the treat, adding another restaurant in my got-to-go-backto list. After a few minutes of eating, our table was cleared away. The plates were clean as

well as the glasses. It was amazing. I made sure Vince took his injection after we ate, being as careful as I possibly could. The cute little guy had completely forgotten about Hunter’s reminders. Maybe because he was busy playing and chatting with a new playmate. When it was time to go home, Bailey held my arm and pulled me back. As the two kids held hands and walked to the parking lot, she turned to face me, a smile on her pretty face. “You know, I’ve never seen you be this mature. I’m so proud of you. You’ve become a great mother to Vince.” “Thanks, Bailey. That means a lot to me.” I held back tears at the thought of being Vince’s mother in the future. It sounded like bliss, but I hated to get my hopes up. Hunter and I were sleeping together and even living together, but would that end as soon as my place felt safe again? “Well, I mean it.” She gave me a quick hug. “Call me. Sooner than later, please.” She walked to Cat and scooped her up as I jogged up and took Vince’s little hand. A great mother to Vince. It hit me right in the chest, but that was because of how badly I wanted it to be true.

Chapter 25 One Week Later Hunter “So, how many books have you read today?” I walked over to Vince as he read another new book from Mrs. Tomms. He was seated at my desk, quietly enjoying his new set of books. “Too soon to ask, Daddy. I just started this new set Mrs. Tomms gave me.” He did not bother to look up at me. His attention was on the new adventures he would be exploring. I gave him a pat on the shoulder as a well-done job sign. Before I could turn my back to him, he finally asked me. “Dad, Cat’s having her birthday party tomorrow. Can we go with Kylie?” He put the book down, looking up to stare into my eyes. It was as if he’d wanted to talk about it for a long time, but felt hesitant. I recalled how many times I had disappointed him. It might have been the reason why he was pretending to be busy reading all week. It would buy him some time in thinking how to open up about Cat’s birthday celebration tomorrow. I thought about my schedule. No clients had called to meet with me, nor previous customers to practice at the gun range. It was a pretty good day to take a rest from work and go spend time with Kylie and Vince. “Yeah, buddy. We can go to her party tomorrow.” This time, I was certain I’d be able

to keep my promise. I would talk about my plans with Garren and grant him a day off as well. He deserved it for working so hard at the gun shop. “Thanks, Daddy! Kylie said she’ll buy something for Cat. I bet she will get the best present for her ever!” “I bet so too, buddy.” Vince returned to his seat, smiling from ear to ear, which warmed my heart. He was treating Kylie more and more like a mother figure in his life. I felt the same. I’d fallen for the beautiful blonde. I just had to get my fear outta the fucking way and step into our relationship fully. Soon. I kept promising myself that I would soon. Garren’s warning rose up in my head, reminding me about Linda and forcing me to promise to be careful. It wasn’t just my heart on the line. Kylie would never do that to Vince. She couldn’t break his heart. She wouldn’t leave me behind either. Would she? Fuck. I shook my head and tried to get away from feeling like such a loser. Walking out to breathe some fresh air, I exited the gun shop. As I looked down the road, I spotted Kylie’s car pulling up. All the negative thoughts drifted away as I saw her face. It felt like having her around was the only cure to keep me from thinking the worst. Whenever I saw her, all my worries melted away. I walked toward her car, opening the door for her. She got out with a bright smile on her face. She glistened under the sun’s rays, her beauty illuminating before me like a precious gem. “So, what brings you here?” She was carrying a paper bag from the convenience

store. Handing it over to me, I peeked to see what was inside the bag. I saw several juice drinks in bottles and packages of cheese bread in it. “Thank you for this.” She smiled back, her eyes still on mine. “You’re welcome. I stopped by to tell you about Cat’s birthday party tomorrow. Did Vince tell you about it?” “Yeah, he’s pretty excited about the gift you’re getting for Cat.” I pointed back to the gun shop. “He’s in there reading some more of the books your mom gave him. She’s too good to him.” “He’s a great kid, Hunter. We love him to death.” She smiled and ran her fingers through her long locks, causing my thoughts to move back to our last night together, which was over a week before, if not more. I wanted her so bad it hurt. What the fuck was holding me back? “He is. I’m sure he’d like to see you.” “Great, I’ll go see him in a little bit. I wanted to see if I could go practice shooting today again? The last time I shot was when we went hog hunting, and I didn’t do nearly as good as I thought I should have.” “You were amazing, baby.” I reached out and ran my hand down her forearm, taking her hand. “Best female shooter I’ve been around.” She laughed, captivating me. “And you’ve been around a lot of us?” “Nope, and I’m not digging myself into that hole. Let’s get back to talking about shooting practice. I’m all in.” “Wait. Now?” I smiled. “Absolutely. Let me tell Garren that I’ll be right back.

“Thank you so much.” She turned and walked to her car. I walked into the shop and called out to Garren. “Going back to the range. You good with Vince in here?” “Sure am, buddy.” He glanced up from doing some paperwork with a big, burly dude. “Have fun.” “Thanks, man.” I walked back out into the warm sunlight and lost my breath. The most beautiful girl in the world walked toward me, the look on her face filled with adoration, and a gun case in her hand. I’d fucking died and gone to heaven. “Come on, beautiful.” I held out my hand for her to take. She took it, entwining our fingers as we walked into the back yard where the gun range was. I felt my heart beating faster again due to the bliss of having her in my life. As we reached the gun range, Kylie put her case down on the table and took her gun out. I observed how she reloaded the gun by herself perfectly. She was independent in preparing the gun for shooting, doing everything without any supervision from me. I sat on one of the benches, watching as she exhibited her gun shooting skills. For a novice, she was great. She knew how to handle the gun well. Her grip was pretty good, learning quickly from the past training I did with her. She pointed the gun down to one of the wooden, human-formed targets. After a few seconds of concentration as she locked her target, she fired her gun. I watched the target that bore a hole in the upper arm. She missed her aim for the heart. Adjusting her stance, she breathed out audibly as she locked her gaze on the target again. In a matter of seconds, she fired another shot. I checked the target, which now had a second hole straight on the left part of its chest.

Every cell in my body was pulsing. Shooting and guns were my life. I hated the reason why she was involved with them now too, but fuck me if I didn’t love seeing her handle a weapon. I reached down and pressed my hand against my cock, which was growing thick and hard down the inside of my thigh. I was far too big of a man for her not to notice. I forced myself to focus. Perhaps it was a lucky shot. “That okay?” Kylie mouthed as she looked at me and asked for an approving sign. I shrugged, expressing my doubt about her aim. She looked at the target once more and positioned for a third shot, proving her skills and that her second shot was not a lucky blow. She fired once more and hit the target. I looked at the decoy and found that it had a hole in the middle of its head. My jaw dropped as I stood and turned to her, still in awe to see how much she had improved. She removed her safety glasses and earmuffs, putting her gun back in its case. My mouth still opened in astonishment, she turned to face me with a smirk on her face. Her hands were on her waist, acting like she was the boss, and in some ways, she most certainly was. “So, what do you think about my shots?” Her eyes moved down my body, and her lips turned up in a smile. I closed my mouth and turned my gaze toward her. “I think you’re incredible.” She stepped closer and pressed herself against my chest. “Did that make you hard, Hunter?” “No. You did.” I pulled her in for a quick set of kisses. “Where’d you learn to shoot so fucking well?”

She laughed as she pulled from me. “I learned from the best.” She walked past me, taking the paper bag with snacks, and entered the gun shop as if nothing had happened. I took my earmuffs and safety goggles and placed them back on the equipment chest as I followed her inside. Entering the gun shop, I heard her and Vince having a light and gleeful conversation. She took a drink from one of the juice bottles and offered him another one. I watched them from afar as Vince showed her the pictures from the book he read. He was thrilled to have a picture book this time, and Kylie made him feel like the king of the world with her attention. “By the way, before I forget. You know what, Vince? I bought Cat’s present before I came here.” She smiled as he jumped up and bounced on his feet. “I wanna see! I wanna see!” He gripped her hands and continued to bounce around. “Not until tomorrow.” He frowned and then begged again, but Kylie laughed at his reaction. Vince was trying his best not to laugh himself, but after a few moments, he burst into laughter. The two shared a blissful laugh, even causing Garren to come out. “What’s going out here, giggling sillies?” He smiled. I walked over and crossed my arms over my chest as I stood beside Garren. “It does sound like they’re having way too much fun over here, right? We should put them to work!” “Work? No way.” Kylie winked at me and reached over to rub Vince’s back. “Dad, Kylie already bought Cat a gift, but she doesn’t want to tell what she got her.” My son was complaining to me, hoping that I could compel Kylie to tell him what the gift. “We can’t push people to tell what they don’t want to tell. Remember that, buddy?” I smiled and reminded him of our previous talks.

“Don’t worry; I’ll help you buy Cat a gift. Something that’s better than mine,” Kylie said, lighting Vince up. He hugged me and Kylie, wrapping his tiny arms around us. I stared at Kylie with questioning eyes, seeking an answer from her. She returned the same, unsure of why my son hugged the two of us. I looked at Vince; his eyes were closed, smiling as if he was dreaming a sweet dream. He tightened his grip around us, binding us in a small circle. “I have the best family in the world.” His words startled me, but his voice was so sweetly happy. A smile spread across my face as his words echoed in my eyes. I wrapped my arms around Kylie and Vince, hugging them too. The best family in the world. Sounded pretty good to me.

Chapter 26 Kylie The next day, we packed up after Hunter’s errands and headed over to Bailey’s for Cat’s party. We arrived at Bailey’s a little late, but late was better than never. Vince was carrying the present as we got out of the car. Hunter and I walked behind him, watching the little boy run to the other kids playing together. “You’re late!” Bailey came to meet us, a tray of colorful cupcakes in her hands. I kissed her cheek, greeting her warmly. I went to give her the present I bought for Cat, but she refused it. “No, you’ve got to give that to Cat. She’ll love getting something from you.” She directed us to the tables and showed us our seats. We watched as the kids got along together even though some of them were just meeting for the first time. Kids were great like that. So open and accepting. Bailey offered her tray to us, giving us some cupcakes. “You’ve got to try these. Pick two or three,” she persisted, and Hunter and I couldn’t deny her. Both of us took two each, taking a bite as Bailey sat down at the table with us. “Thanks, Bailey, these cupcakes taste awesome. You’ve got talent, girl.” Hunter finished his first cupcake and was going for his second one. Bailey smiled at him, her eyes silently scrutinizing Hunter. It was their first time meeting, and Hunter was making a good impression on my best friend from what I could

tell. “I’m happy you liked the cupcakes. You should have come earlier so Vince could have played longer with the kids in the neighborhood.” She looked pleased about Hunter. He smiled modestly at her, staring back at me as if he were apologizing. “It’s my fault. I asked for them to wait for me so we could all come together. I had to attend to some personal matters and got delayed on the way here. Sorry for that.” Bailey nodded. “Oh, I see. Come on, let’s eat. The buffet table’s waiting for you!” She stood up and went to the table. I looked at Hunter and smiled before we followed Bailey’s lead. The table was filled with delicious food courses for both adults and kids. There were plenty of pasta dishes and chicken on the menu, as well as hotdogs and sweets. I took a little bit of everything, even the kiddie treats. Every dish laid out on the table looked sumptuous. As I returned to my seat, Hunter was already eating, looking like he was at home. I sat back down beside him, joining in the fun of trying everything with small, tentative bites. Hunter watched Vince out of the corner of his eye, watching his son and making sure he was doing okay. “He said he’s not hungry.” Hunter looked at me, seeking my opinion on what to do. I smiled at him to somehow ease his worries, telling him that I’ve got his back. “After I finish my plate, I’ll call Vince and have him eat just a little.” He seemed relieved and returned to his meal. I continued eating as well, grateful for Bailey’s party. We needed some fun together as a family. Bailey returned to our table with Cat. She was holding her little daughter’s hand as she approached us. The cute and cuddly girl wore a Snow White costume, resembling her favorite Disney princess. She kissed my cheek and laughed with a joyful glee.

“Happy birthday, little Snow White.” I gave her the present I bought yesterday. She kissed my cheek as a sign of her gratitude. “Thank you.” Her sweet little voice was too adorable to neglect. I squeaked in response, staring at Bailey to express my amusement at her little daughter. She raised her brow before smiling. “I told you, Kylie. This kid’s going to be a superstar someday.” Cat stared at her mother and pulled the hem of her skirt. Bailey leaned down, and Cat cupped her little hands around her ear, whispering something. My best friend’s face lit up, and she laughed. Vince came running toward us, trickles of sweat on his forehead about the time I started to ask what Cat said. “I’m going back outside. Just wanted to check in,” Vince said, breathlessly. “Hey, you’ve got to eat first.” I took out a towel from his bag and wiped his forehead and back. His big grin was clear evidence that he was having a blast at the party. He nodded and followed me as I took a plate for him and asked which of the dishes on the buffet table he wanted to eat. When we returned to our table, Bailey was on the low platform speaking into the microphone. She was thanking everyone that came today, especially the kids who played along with little Cat. “Now, I present to you Cat’s special guest, Mr. Dave, the Magician!” She left the platform, and it was taken over by a jovial man in a glittery magenta tuxedo and a golden cane. He entertained the kids as he showed them some magic tricks. Bailey returned to our table, sitting beside me to join our little group. Vince had just finished his meal, and Hunter took him inside the kitchen for his shots, which were in the fridge, staying cool. A few seconds later, Hunter dropped down beside me with a soft

grunt, and Vince skipped back toward the magic show. “You could pass as a nurse,” Bailey kidded at Hunter. “You’ve gotta try to give your kid the best, right?” he answered, putting his attention on his son. He watched Vince from afar, then turned his attention back to Bailey. “By the way, can I take some cupcakes home with me? I would not mind putting on a few pounds with those sweets. They’re worth it all the way.” Bailey laughed it off, finding Hunter’s compliment over the top. “No problem. Kylie doesn’t like them anyway. She always tells me that hers are better than mine.” She elbowed me, teasing me. I gave her a skeptical look and rolled my eyes. Hunter laughed. “You can’t object too much, Bailey. Sorry to say, but Kylie’s a tough contender when it comes to cooking.” He looked at me with admiring eyes, expressing his great love for my cooking. Bailey gave a shrug, admitting her defeat. “Maybe. Maybe not.” I snorted. “Brother.” “This girl’s the next Master Chef.” Hunter smiled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, kissing the side of my face. I looked at the two of them as their conversation carried on. Hunter was at ease chatting with Bailey about anything. He showed interest in the things she opened up about. Watching them was entertaining. It was like they had known each other for a long time, which was comforting. She was my closest friend. If she didn’t like the man I saw in my future, I wasn’t sure what I would do. As the magician pulled out his last trick, I walked over to Vince to give him a glass of water. He was enjoying the magic show with Cat, who was seated beside him. The two seemed to get along together really well.

“Wait up; I’ll get a to-go place for you guys to take some food home with you. Stay where you are,” Bailey said. Bailey returned from the kitchen carrying a large paper bag in her hands. “In case Hunter needed some cupcakes.” She smirked, teasing me. “I’m kidding with you. I’d never steal Hunter from you. I’m teasing. Seriously.” I started to respond, but the kids ran up, grabbing my attention. I wasn’t worried about Bailey stealing anything from me. Hunter would fall in love with me, or he wouldn’t. I couldn’t do much more than I was already doing. “Alright, Little Miss.” I bent down and kissed Cat’s cheek. “Happy Birthday again, and I love you very much.” “Me too!” She bounced around before pulling a stunned Vince into a tight hug. “Love you too, Vince.” He blushed, and we all laughed as I pulled him close to me and took his hand. “You’re so sweet, little guy. All the girls are going to love you.” “We better get going. It’s getting late. Thanks again for this, Bailey. It was nice to meet you.” Hunter waved as the three of us left. The sun was setting as we drove home. The three of us rode in Hunter’s car, eager to go home and relax for the rest of the day. As soon as we had driven down the road a bit, Vince started talking about his day and the friends that he made. “Cat loved the gift we bought for her. Those cat ear headbands were totally cute, just like her.” “How about mine? Did she like my gift?” I turned my head to look at him from the back seat. “Yeah! That necklace was the best gift ever. Her mother even kept it in her pocket, just to make sure it would not get lost.” I leaned back with a smile on my face. The best feeling was when someone

appreciated the little things you did for them. I looked at Hunter, wondering if he felt the same. Did he appreciate me? Because I appreciated him. Vince carried on with his story about his day. He did not stop talking about the kids he had just met and the friends he had just made. The sparkle in his eyes was evidence of him having a great time. I loved it. After quite some time, Vince ceased telling his tales and fell asleep. He laid peacefully on the back seat, drowsy from both exhaustion and happiness. He was smiling while his eyes were closed. “Look, little man is sound asleep,” I told Hunter as he drove along the highway. He glanced over at the rearview mirror and chuckled, although his eyes were still on the road. “I’m so happy I came along with you and Vince. I had a great time.” He was smiling beautifully. Despite the fact that only half of his face was available for me to look at, he was unbelievably handsome. Even though people would ask me several times about how I felt about Hunter, my answer would never change. “Yeah, I can see that. You seemed to get along with Bailey well.” I tried to keep my tone steady but failed miserably. Maybe I wasn’t okay with her and him getting along so well. “Are you jealous?” He asked the most dreadful question. I glared at Hunter, my voice faltering as I felt the need to defend myself. “Of course not!” I claimed. I looked away at the window, watching the world rush by us. I heard him laughing, but I did not bother to look at him. Thank goodness it was getting dark. My cheeks were burning red, ashamed of my own silly concerns. I shouldn’t

have asked him. “Don’t worry about it, Kylie. I’m into you, baby. You know that.” Just when I was about to turn to him to make sure he was serious and not teasing me, he took my hand gently, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles slowly. It left me feeling secured, protected, loved. It was heartfelt and sincere. There was no need for any other words. For the first time, I felt Hunter express his true feelings. I looked at him, almost expecting him to say something. Anything. All I got in response was a sweet smile on his face as he squeezed my hand tighter. It was a new found feeling. I couldn’t fully comprehend it, but maybe I didn’t need to. It felt too damn good to overanalyze and possibly destroy.

Chapter 27 Hunter We all passed out pretty quickly after getting back from Bailey’s place, and where I wanted to make love to Kylie that night, I was too tired. Good thing she was too. Surely she wasn’t upset about Bailey. How in the world could any man choose someone besides her? Long blond hair, big boobs, a sweetheart, and gentle spirit? No way. I was all in with her. The next morning, I got up and got busy getting things together. I took an extra set of clothes and towels from Vince’s dresser and placed them in his backpack. He woke up and watched me pack up his stuff before we left to visit Kylie at the convenience store. Mrs. Tomms was dying to see Vince again. Kylie vowed to her mother that we would come by over the weekend to help around and visit their store. After double checking Vince’s backpack and his medicine kit, I came out of his room to meet him in the living room. He was sitting on the couch, watching his favorite cartoon. I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “All right, buddy. Let’s get going.” “Yes! I can’t wait to see Nana again.” He grabbed his stuff and ran out to the car. I chuckled and followed him, getting in and making sure he was buckled. “I’m sure she’s excited to see you too.” “I hope Nana lets me help in the pastry section today. I love putting up the donuts and stuff. So many colors and treats to see.”

I laughed. “You’re definitely Mrs. Tomms’ best employee. She will hire you again in a heartbeat when you’re old enough.” I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t call the older woman Nana like Vince did, but it didn’t matter. It was his special name to use with Kylie’s mom. Not mine. As soon as we arrived at the store, Vince got out of the car and ran inside. Taking the day off was worth it. Spending my weekend with my son and the people who felt like family was the most important thing in my life right now. I followed Vince inside. Mrs. Tomms glanced up. “Hunter. How are you today?” “Great, Mrs. Tomms. Thanks for letting Vince help you. I swear he thinks he’s going to work for you when he gets old enough.” I glanced around to find Vince standing beside Kylie, checking a customer out at the register. Seeing her in the light blue blouse she had on left my stomach tightening. She was stunning. Way too beautiful for an asshole like me. I turned my attention back to Mrs. Tomms and checked the pastries for the day. “Everything looks delicious. I guess this is the second set of pastries for the day.” She smiled at me warmly. “Actually, it’s the third set. The people loved today’s menu.” I looked again through the glass display, picking some pastries to purchase and take home for later. The vast range of choices made it hard for me to choose. “Why not try the red velvet cake? It’s one of the best ones I make.” She took it out of the glass display, packing it in the box without waiting for my reply. “Sounds delicious.” I trusted her anyway. When she decided on something, she was certain about it. Also, her suggestions were most of the time the best ones. She was a bright woman, and I had no doubt that she was where Kylie got her strength from.

“Here it is.” She extended the box, which was embellished with a golden ribbon on top. “Excellent. I can’t wait to try it.” I took it and reached for my wallet. I took out some bills to pay her, but when I went to pay, she rejected me politely. “Come on. Is that how stingy you think I am? I’m giving it to you for free!” I hesitated about it being a freebie, but she persisted that I keep my money. “Just don’t tell anybody. It’s the first time I’ve ever given something for free since establishing this store, but you sure do feel like family.” “Well, thanks. That means a lot to me.” I turned and found Kylie watching us, smiling from ear to ear, listening the entire time. It had been more than a month since I established this good relationship with Mrs. Tomms. It felt like we had been a part of a family for years. “Hey, Hunter,” Mrs. Tomms said, waking me up from my daydream of loving on her daughter for forever. “I was thinking, maybe Vince could come home with me tonight so you and Kylie could have some alone time. Anyway, I wanted to give him some of Kylie’s old books and thought we could watch a movie or something.” I looked at Kylie, thinking of the things I could do with her alone. Trying my best to keep my thoughts pure, I turned my attention back to Mrs. Tomms. I nodded, determined to take her up on her offer. It was my chance to express my feelings toward Kylie in private, to tell her what she really meant to me. “I would love that.” I nodded, looking like the fool I felt like. Mrs. Tomms patted my shoulder, laughed, and moved around me as Kylie walked up. “Mom, what are you doing?” “Just trying to give you guys some time alone, and honestly, I want to spend time with

Vince. Is it a crime?” She snorted and walked toward the counter where Vince was packing a customer’s purchase. “Vince?” “Yes, Nana?” He glanced up, his little voice sounding deeper than I remembered. “You want to come home with me, and we’ll watch some movies, eat popcorn, and read some new books?” Mrs. Tomms knelt before my son. “Oh, yeah. I would love that.” He turned and gave me a hopeful look. “Dad? Please?” I exhaled audibly, looking at Mrs. Tomms and Kylie before I answered. “Okay, just promise you won’t forget your insulin. Plus, go to bed early.” “Of course, Dad. She knows how to do all of that stuff, and if she forgets, we have me to remind her.” He beamed, causing all of us to laugh. The boy was too much. * Having the evening freed up, I couldn’t stop thinking that I should take my girl out, treat her to something special. I mulled it over as we walked to the car from the store, trying to figure out my next steps. Fuck it. We were going. Period. It would be a bit of a rush, but calling for a restaurant reservation would be the right move. Kylie deserved the best, and I wanted her to feel special, the way she made me feel all the time. After telling her about tonight’s date, we hurried home to get changed. I went directly to the bathroom and took a shower. My head drifted to all the things I wanted to do to my pretty girl. I ran my hand down my stomach and stroked my cock, glancing down and shaking my head. How in the world could such a small woman fit this monster inside of her? Pleasure shot through me, and I forced myself to hurry up. I wasn’t wasting a moment

of ecstasy when she wasn’t involved in it. I was saving everything for later that night. I stepped out of the shower and put on my clothes I picked out beforehand. I wanted to wear something nice, but not too formal; I hated dressing up. I chose a white button down, black slacks, and a sports coat. After, I trimmed my beard and sprayed some cologne on before going downstairs to wait for my lovely date. I sat on the couch and kept my eyes on the stairs. Soon enough, Kylie came down to the living room. She wore a beautiful yet simple dress that fitted her curvy frame. Her pretty face was almost untouched with makeup, just a little shimmer on her lips, which I loved. She was smiling sweetly at me, her clear blue eyes sparkling bright. She was the perfect picture of innocence, and I stood, knowing that by the end of the night, that façade would be gone and she’d be screaming my name— loudly. I stood up; my lips parted a little in surprise. She looked stunning amidst her simplicity. “Shall we?” I offered her my arm, which she took and blushed. “I’m so excited.” She glanced up at me. “Thank you for doing this, Hunter. It’s so sweet of you.” “Anything for you.” We walked out of the house and drove to the restaurant where our romantic dinner would be held, not saying too much. I think we were both a little nervous, which seemed silly. As we walked in, people glanced over and smiled, most of them looking at my girl. No doubt, Kylie was the prettiest woman in the crowd. “This way, please.” The host pulled out Kylie’s chair, and we sat down and smiled at each other. “Enjoy your dinner.” “I haven’t been here in a long time.” I licked my lips and picked up the menu. “You?”

“No, never.” She picked up her menu too and glanced up to find me staring at her. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. It was so much more than lust. It was the beginning of a beautiful love story. One I wanted to last forever. Our waiter approached our table. He was a young man who was wearing a suit and bow tie. Kylie scrutinized the menu, being the great cook she always had been. Her taste would be difficult to satisfy. I wondered if the restaurant’s chef could live up to her expectations. “Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter asked before leaving us. “Yeah. Kylie, what do you want, baby?” I gave her my attention. “The salmon would be good.” She smiled up at the guy as he jotted something down on a pad of paper in his hand. “Let’s make it easy. We’ll just do two of those.” I turned my attention back to her, finding her eyes locked on me. Her chin was cupped in her right palm. It was as if she was ready to compete in a stand-off, but I would always be defeated. My muscles shivered as I gazed into her blue, crystal clear eyes. Her long, blonde hair was tied in a messy bun again. She looked like a princess or a goddess. Someone with high royalty, majestic ways, or supreme charm. I could not help but smile upon seeing this wonderful woman’s sweet face. “So, how many girls have you taken out on a date?” Kylie posed the question, teasing me about tonight’s dinner date. Pretending to count using my fingers, I answered her with a joke. “Sorry, but I lost track of them all.” It was a weird question, but something told me

she was still a little off because of Bailey teasing her over stealing me. It was trivial, but it was obviously still bothering my girl. She rolled her eyes, knowing that I was fabricating things. She leaned closer and looked at me with keen eyes. She asked again, hoping for a factual answer. “No kidding.” There was no need to count. I knew perfectly well how many women I took out on a date. “You’re the second lucky girl.” She grimaced, giving me a skeptic glare. Just in time, the waiter delivered our salads. As we carried on with our food, she brought up the topic again, curious about my dating experiences. “No way there have just been two of us.” “Yes, way. The first one was Vince’s mother. I loved her very much, but I guess the lesson I learned from our separation was that love wasn’t enough.” I picked up my beer that I’d ordered and drank deeply from it, hating that the conversation was headed here, but it needed to. For us to start getting serious about us, I needed to open up and share myself with her. “I wasn’t enough.” Reminiscing about the past was a bad idea, but necessary. It hurt to even think about it. “I’m sorry, Hunter, but I’ll tell you one thing. You’re more than enough.” She reached across the table and ran her fingers over mine. “Would you hate me if I asked to hear the story? I just want to know what happened. If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. Seriously.” She leaned closer, the emotion in her eyes moving from skeptic to sympathetic. “Linda was her name. She was my college sweetheart. Ever since we met, we knew there was a spark between us, that we were going to spend our lives together. We had been together for five years when she left, and I’d never imagined my life without her. We planned out the future together. We believed that there was not a thing that could separate as. That, surprisingly, was a single-sided view looking back. Those were all the things I

thought, but obviously, she had a different idea.” Her eyes were sad by merely listening to my story. She nodded, telling me to carry on. “What happened?” “So, on our fourth anniversary, she gave me the best gift ever: Vince. She said she was pregnant, carrying my little one inside of her. Hearing her say that, I cried and knelt down before her. I did not plan anything about it. It was just a random thought. I proposed to her, and she said yes. It was the best day of my life, or so I thought.” I took another drink of the beer, realizing that no one knew this story but me. Kylie looked down, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “You don’t have to keep going.” I reached out and took her hand. “I want to.” I continued my story. “Life had never been better than when I was living with Linda. My dreams were coming true. Things were tough, but with her and Vince with me, I felt I could do anything. I worked hard to support our little family, starting everything from scratch.” “What happened to her?” she asked, her eyes avoiding me. Had I upset her somehow? I bristled at the thought. She’d brought it up, and I was simply trying to be fully open with her. I answered her question anyway. “Back then, we lived in my father’s house. He’d passed away years before, so the house was unoccupied. Everything was tough for us. My business had failed many times, and most of the time, my pockets were empty. I leaned into my father’s pension for support for a while, which was hard as hell. Linda was understanding in some ways, and not in others. But everything changed when she gave birth to Vince.” I looked at her as I was about to tell the most painful part of my life. “Vince?” Kylie looked up. “What would change when the baby was born?” “I don’t know, but she was different. She became ill-tempered and disoriented with

things. She even neglected taking care of Vince when he was a baby. I can still hear her screaming in my face about how disgusting and troublesome he was. Everything was falling apart in my business, and I was on the verge of closing the doors. Instead of being there to support one another, Linda was dragging me deeper into the ground.” Finally, her eyes met mine. She was ready to hear the naked truth of my bitter past. “I’m sorry, Hunter.” “Me too.” I finished the beer and sat it down, needing some closure. “And the worst part? She was always out on the town. Whenever I asked her where she’d been, she’d get fucking furious and go ballistic. One day, when I came home stressed from work, I found Vince alone in the house crying. I searched the house and found Linda packing her things up, ignoring him. She left us without even caring to answer my questions or explaining where she was going or why. Later, I found out that she had an affair with someone and ran away with him, far away from Mesquite.” I let out a heavy breath, my heart sinking. “For the longest time, I thought I had moved on, but I hadn’t. I felt like if I had done better in the business or been more of a man for her, she wouldn’t have left.” I swallowed the pain stuck in my throat. “But it doesn’t matter. She fucked with my son, and even if she came back today…I’d kick her to the curb. Period.” Kylie squeezed my hand and looked at me with sad eyes. “Does Vince know about any of this?” “No, and he never will.” I recalled how Vince asked several times about his mother. “I always told him that she died giving birth to him and her ashes were spread in the ocean. I feel sorry for lying to him, but it was the best thing I could do to keep him away from heartbreak. She hated him, Kylie. No clue why. He’s the best thing that ever has happened to me.” She squeezed my hand tighter, nodding as I looked at her. “That’s right. She’s a

fucking idiot for not loving him silly and even more so for leaving you. I’ve never met a man as good as you. Don’t doubt your worth for a second.” I winked at her. “Enough of this. Let’s eat.” I moved back as the food was delivered, grateful that the conversation was over, but knowing that some part of the taint of losing my first wife hung over me. It always would. After we had finished our meals, I asked for the check. I stood up after leaving the amount due on the table, and leaving the excess for the tip. We left the restaurant at around 8:30 p.m. Good. Plenty of night left for fun. I drove us home as quickly as I could, my desire to touch her and take care of her almost overwhelming me. As soon as Kylie and I entered the house, we both collapsed on the couch next to each other, full as hell. Kylie was sitting beside me, her head lifted up, eyes closed. She was panting heavily. I watched as her chest rose and fell. Her mouth was parted a little, inviting me over for a taste. “God, you look good, baby.” I wanted to have her again. I scooted toward her, whispering in her ear what’s on my mind. “We have the house for ourselves tonight—” Right before I could finish my sentence, she opened her eyes and reached over, pressing her finger to my lips. Those clear, blue eyes were staring at me with a fervor that let me know she wanted what I wanted. Her. Naked, wet and shaking. “I want all night this time.” To my surprise, Kylie stood up and straddled my lap, pressing herself against my budding erection. She helped me out of my coat and worked the buttons of my shirt open, helping me pull it off too. I pulled her down for a long kiss, enjoying the taste of her, once again, on my tongue. Her kisses were warm, skilled, and haunting. The smell of her perfume lingering in the air mixed with a hint of arousal. Her sweet

pussy was sloppy wet already. I just knew it. I breathed in deeply, taking in the sweet vanilla with white flowers. Captivating, innocent, and beautiful. Just like her.

Chapter 28 Kylie Hunter’s lips were on mine, caressing me with his gentle and soft kisses. The taste of him on my tongue was almost too much. I moaned against his lips. “I want you so bad,” he mumbled and ran his hands down my back to squeeze the top curve of my ass. I wasted no time and moved my fingers to undo his jacket. I had been aching to see him naked since I went downstairs. My long wait was over now that I had him for myself. It was the perfect time now that we were all alone in this spacious house. He was hungry for lust, and he wasn’t the only one. I kept my eyes locked on his as I traced his well-defined and perfectly toned abs, rolling my hips and sliding up and down his huge erection. The warmth of his skin had me aching for carnality, my temperature rising as I memorized him. His eyes were seducing me, drawing me in to explore him more. His body was a divine. “I want you all for myself, Hunter,” I spoke seductively. With all my courage, I kissed him once more. Everything vanished as I closed my eyes and tasted his lips. “I’m all yours, baby.” He tugged at the hem of my dress. “Off. Now.” The skirt was raised up on my waist, exposing my legs. I released my lock on his lips and unzipped the back, helping him in taking it off. He watched as I stripped the dress off,

taking everything off to leave myself bare before him. Hunter’s hands crept on my waist, massaging my body. Grinding my ass against his cock left me wet and shaky. “So beautiful.” My lips kissed his neck, eager to explore his entire body. The heat from his skin was burning me and causing the air to become so hard to breathe. I moved as my lips kissed him, shifting between his legs as best I could. He moaned loudly, and I kept on my same path, determined to see the huge bulge inside of his stretched slacks. When my lips reached his abs, I lowered my position further and knelt before him. I unbuckled his belt and then his pants. I could see that the hard bulge in his pants was twitching, desiring to be unleashed from its cage. I pulled his pants down, taking his underwear with me. His colossal, throbbing cock stood upright before me, moving on its own as it grew further in size. My mouth was open in delight, lust completely consuming me. I would never get over how fucking big he was. “Taste me, Kylie,” he whispered roughly as he slipped his hands into my hair and lowered me, forcing me to take his cock in my mouth. He began moving in short movements, consistent in penetrating my mouth. The head of his cock was moving in and out of my mouth, the rest of his shaft struggling to be in wholly. My eyes were tearing from his huge size as I choked. “It’s too big, baby,” I mumbled and moved back with tears in my eyes. I stood up, naked and ready to give him any other part of me he wanted. “Fuck…” He took some time to appreciate my bare body. I could see his eyes sparkle with desire upon watching every inch of me. His hand was on his shaft, gently stroking his long, fat cock as he observed the view before him. I began moving my hips in slow, sexy motions, dancing as he watched from his seat.

He was moaning lightly, blissful from the spectacle before him. Seeing him lost to ecstasy made me hungrier for sex. I moved toward him, sitting on his lap while I kept my hips grooving in a slow, sultry routine. “You surprise me with your promiscuity. I love it.” He placed his hands on my ass cheeks, grinding my wet pussy on his hard cock, slow and hard. I let out a sweet moan, my heart racing for him. His touch had been my first, and it would be my last as well. Something sparked fireworks inside of me as he popped my ass hard, growling low in his chest. He was done playing around. I moved my hips harder, rubbing his cock against my soaked and tingling pussy. As I humped harder, his giant cock accidentally penetrated my entrance. He smirked at me and pushed inside, leaving me breathless and stunned from his sudden advances. He lifted my ass to enable him full control of my body before he moved his hips in a fast motion. His green eyes stayed focused on mine, watching my every move like a hawk hunting for prey. The arduous heat made me lose control, coupled with the rapid and intense thrusts. Pussy juice began to drip out of my entrance, my entire body shaking from the powerful sensation as I came hard. His ten-inch cock was too difficult to handle, and yet somehow, I was getting the hang of it. A wave of unexplainable tension in between my legs began to form, waiting to be burst out of its bubble. My body was tensed and vibrating as Hunter pushed in and out like crazy, pumping so hard my tits and ass jiggled. My pussy convulsed, and my release drenched his body. After I had squirted, Hunter pushed back inside of me. I was just gathering my strength when he began pumping his hard cock inside of me again, his hands squeezing

my ass tightly as he grunted and groaned. As he thrust in an intensely wild motion, his cock began pulsating once again inside of me. His thick, robust cock was digging my pussy, triggering my G-spot once again. My knees quivered, losing their capacity to support my weight. I wrapped my hands around his neck, finding my balance as I collapsed in his arms, his big cock buried inside of me. “God, you turn me on, baby.” He pulled me down for a long kiss. “Tell me you don’t want a condom. I want you to feel my release.” I moaned loudly, loving the thought of it. I’d be okay. We could do it just this one time. “Yes. Do it.” “Such a good girl.” He moved down and sucked my nipple into his mouth as he popped my ass. I groaned and pumped my hips, milking his cock until he tensed and lost his load deep inside of me. Hunter gently lifted my body, still panting from the strenuous fuck we just had. He laid down on the couch and pulled me beside him. His hand was on my hip, drawing me to close to him as we rested on the comfy furniture. “There’s nothing like making love to you, Kylie.” Hunter closed his eyes, still out of breath. My body was limp, but my heart on fire I stared at him as he continued to pant. God, he was perfect. Every inch of him was flawless. I ran my fingers down his face, caressing him as I admired his gorgeous features. “Good. I want to be good for you.” I curled up to him and pressed my lips to his, sinking into his hold. I wanted to live like that forever, to be beside him for the rest of my life. A few minutes of lying there and he’d fallen asleep in my arms. I leaned closer to him, kissing his lips while he slept. He was my everything, and the only thing I wanted

and would do anything to get. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone. The thought alone terrified me. What if he couldn’t love me in return?

Chapter 29 One Week Later Hunter “So, where’s Vince? Did he go help Mrs. Tomms and Kylie today?” Garren was cleaning the guns on the glass display. I joined him in his chores, deciding to clean the place while there were no customers around. It’d been more than a week since mine and Kylie’s night alone. I began to recall how intimate the night was. A different and surreal experience. There was more than lust. There was love. Had she felt it too? I’d asked myself a hundred times since then. “Yeah, man. He went with Kylie today to help around the convenience store. Mrs. Tomms requested for him to visit too, so I agreed that he could go along with Kylie.” I kept my eyes on the guns. A smile was spreading on my face, delighted by the memories that flashed in my head. “What’s that nasty smile on your face, man?” I looked at Garren who was smirking at me. I suppressed my grin, replacing it with a serious expression. Garren was pushing for me to tell him about me and Kylie, but the big, ugly bastard was out of luck. He crossed his arms beneath his chest, raising his eyebrows as he waited for an explanation. “Well?” I breathed out. “I’m just happy, man. Don’t I deserve to be happy?”

“Oh, come on. Spit it out, man. Have the balls to say it.” “I don’t know, Garren. I’m still trying to figure the shit out, okay? Fuck.” I turned to face the other side of the room and busied myself with paperwork. “You know that you can’t hide that for too long. It’s pretty obvious, man. You’re starting to fall for Kylie.” He moved around to stand in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile. It was something I had denied as best I could, but there was no escaping it anymore. Loving Kylie was an easy thing to do. She was a cut above the rest. The type of woman men would chase and fight to have. “Man, I can’t stop myself from caring about her, and you’re right. I think I’m in love with her.” Something like a weight lifted off of me. He threw his hands in the air. “Fucking finally, you admitted it. That’s just what I was waiting for. Jeez. Why was that so damn hard?” “Because you’re a cock and reminded me of Linda the last time this came up. Forgive me for not wanting to share my feelings with you, ass hat.” I gave him a knowing look, and he nodded as if he understood. “Anyway, Kylie is a special girl. I haven’t felt like this, ever.” “Well, then I think that’s great. My only concern is for you, man. You and Vince are my family.” He reached out and gripped my shoulder. “I know you have to understand that.” “I do, but look at the bigger picture for a minute, man. No one could ever do what she was doing. She’s an outstanding woman. Not too many women out there would sacrifice their time and efforts for someone like me. I have a kid, Garren. It’s not an easy life for her to step into.” “I agree, brother.” He smiled. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, man. I haven’t really pushed forward with her yet, but I’m going to soon.” He snorted. “It’s always soon with you, Hunter. Get to it before some other town hunk comes in and does it for you.” “Fuck you,” I murmured as a smile played on my lips. He was always willing to play Negative Nancy. I should have been used to it by then. “Not my type, cutie.” He winked at me and walked back to the front of the store, calling over his shoulder. “Just be careful. Promise?” I didn’t respond. I knew what he was thinking, and I understood it. Perhaps he was right, but it was a hard pill to swallow. As surprisingly as how she came into our lives, she could leave me and my son anytime. One day, Vince and I could wake up and realize that like Linda, Kylie had slipped out in the night, leaving us forever. Vince would be crushed into pieces if she left. I would be devastated. Our lives would crumble if she decided that we were no longer important in her life. But aside from all those things, something deep inside of me believed in her. She would never leave us. I put my trust in her whole heartedly because I didn’t have a choice. I was already too far gone where she was concerned anyway. I was hers…forever. * After I had finished up the large pile of paperwork on my desk, I walked back up front to see a regular customer to the store, a guy who loved guns and visited for gun range practice at the back all the time.

“Hello, Mr. Jackson. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.” He’d changed from the last time he visited the gun shop. It seemed like he had lost some weight. Also, the unshaved, dirty beard around his jaw. Despite his changed look, he remained friendly as always. “Good to see you again, Hunter. Things have been quite rough for me these past few months. It’s just now that I found the time to visit and get to practice at the range.” Despite his jolly expression, Mr. Jackson’s eyes were sullen. He seemed like he had been going through something in his life. “I hope things get better for you. How about Mrs. Jackson? Is she not joining you today?” Upon hearing my question, the man frowned. His expression showed what he really was feeling inside. I bit my lip, guilty of the tactless question I had asked. “Sorry, Mr. Jackson. I did not mean to ask.” He looked up and offered a sad smile. The gloom behind his eyes reflected whatever pain he had been suffering. “It’s okay, Hunter. I have already moved on.” He looked at me as he forced a smile. “It was difficult to accept, but I finally realized things. By the way, Mrs. Jackson’s no longer with me. We’re officially divorced.” I pursed my lips, hating myself for getting us into such a depressing conversation. How was it even possible? They were one of the few couples I knew who got along so well. I could still picture how sweet they were every time they visited my shop. I had always idolized them for being a strong, successful couple who had great kids. “How in the hell did that happen?” My voice was almost a murmur. I was speaking to myself, but my voice was audible enough for him to hear. “I still don’t know how to answer that question myself. I thought we were happy. Everything was perfect. But one day, she left and never returned again. I could not find her anywhere. It was difficult to find someone who did not want to be found.” He leaned his hand on the case, seeking support to maintain his stance. His voice was shaky and

emotional. I could almost feel the torment he had gone through. “The next day, she called home, and my son answered. When he gave the phone to me, she told me that we needed to end things. I asked her why, trying my best to make things right. She said nothing and dropped the call instead. She’s never showed up since then. Instead, a package came in that week. When I opened it, it had our divorce papers waiting for my signature.” Mr. Jackson let out a sigh. Still, he managed to show a strong front and forced another weak smile. “Sorry about that, Mr. Jackson. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me?” I reached out and squeezed the older man’s shoulder. “No, it’s fine, Hunter. I’m already okay with it. It’s just so difficult to think of the reason why she left. The worst part about it is how my little boy is going through the process. He’s been asking for his mother long enough until he got tired of asking. He is heartbroken to bits, and as a father, seeing your son in such despair is the most painful thing ever.” He grasped his gun case tighter, the pressure of his emotions evident on his grip. “Sorry for taking your time, Hunter. I just wish you all the best in life. I hope this won’t happen to you.” He excused himself and proceeded to the gun range. I watched Mr. Jackson as he left, my head messed up with memories. He hoped it wouldn’t happen? Fuck, it already had. The only concern I had was the chance of it happening again. I wouldn’t survive it. As I returned to my table and checked on things I had left unfinished, I saw my phone vibrating. I grabbed it from the table to look who it was. Kylie’s name flashed on the screen, plus ten missed calls, all from her. My heart started to beat loudly when I pressed the green button. Kylie’s voice filled my ears. She sounded like she was worried sick. “Hunter, come to

the hospital as soon as you can. We rushed Vince in minutes ago. Please hurry.”

Chapter 30 Kylie Seeing Vince faint felt like the most terrifying moment of my life. The kid had been strong and healthy for the past few weeks since we learned about him having diabetes. It was the first time that I saw him down on the floor, unconscious. I almost lost my mind thinking about how I neglected the kid. I shouldn’t have taken him to the convenience store. He shouldn’t have worked and run errands for us. The tiring and stressful day might have triggered his poor conditions, or maybe I’d misread his blood sugar tests. Thankfully, he was feeling better now. The doctors managed to normalize his vital signs. I stroked his hair as I watched him sleep peacefully, resting in his private room. While I was watching over him, the doctor came to visit and check on Vince again. As the nurse took his blood pressure, the doctor spoke with me about Vince’s condition. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Yonnie. Your son is fine now. He was just exhausted a while ago, plus his blood sugar level went below the normal range. But now, he’s back to normal.” He came closer to Vince, observing him as he slept in peace. “You better be careful on giving him food to eat. He’s a diabetic, and I’m certain you know all about it. Just continue keeping his sweets consumption in moderation. But sometimes, too much aversion could also cause serious problems.” I nodded, understanding what the doctor was talking about. “Yes, Doc. Thank you.”

He left after assuring me that Vince was ready to go anytime. I let out a heavy breath, staring at the sweet little guy as he rested on the hospital bed. I walked over and pressed my hands to my eyes as tears blurred my vision. I would have died if anything had happened to him. What had happened? I needed to pinpoint it. It was important so that I could make sure it didn’t happen ever again. At least not on my watch. I recalled that my mother had given him some cinnamon rolls for snack time. Vince rejected them sweetly, saying that he should not eat anything sweet to maintain his blood sugar level. Instead, he requested a hot dog and water for his snack. It was not the first time I felt worried about him totally avoiding sweets. Never did he eat anything with too many carbs lately. He always said that he was watching his blood sugar level and wanted it to keep low. He believed that the lower it got, the better for his health. I offered him again anything from the pastry stand as a cheat treat, but he was persistent. He was eager to maintain his abstinence from the sweets. Vince always told me that he was a good boy and he wanted his father not to worry much about his health condition. He was starting to get bigger and grown up guys took their responsibilities well enough. He even volunteered to work at the convenience store. Vince helped me in restocking the shelves, taking out the trash, meeting customers, as well as helping the customers check out. He had a bright energy, enthusiastic and ready for anything that was to challenge him for the day. Only when he was trying to help me carry some of the light and small boxes inside did he succumb to lack of strength. While I carried two boxes behind him, I witnessed how the small box he carried fell to the ground. Upon seeing that, I dropped the two boxes

in my hands and came to his rescue. I sat back next to him, staring at Vince’s innocent face. I stroked his hair as I watched him sleep. This kid had been the sunshine of my days. He had grown close to my heart. Not just as a neighbor’s son, but rather as my own child already. While I contemplated about how the father and son tandem had influenced my life, the door crashed open. Hunter. He looked tense, his eyes glaring at me. Upon seeing his son, he ran toward his bed and held his son’s hand. The madness in his eyes was replaced by worry and fright. He kept his eyes on him, but he asked what happened. “Why is Vince here?” His voice was suppressed, but I could tell that he was pissed. “Hunter.” I stood up, turning toward the bed to calm him down. I moved to hold his shoulders and tone his temper down; he shot me a threatening look. “Just tell me exactly what happened.” His eyes were burning in a crazed fashion. He looked frantic and furious, like he would knock out anyone who got in his way. He did not care about whether it might be a male or female. He was close to hitting me. I could almost feel it. I backed away, scared of his dangerous temper. I had never seen him like that before. He was usually a calm, gentle man with a good heart, but everything seemed to be wrong. “Vince was helping me do some chores at the convenience store until he lost consciousness and fell. I immediately brought him here to have him checked by the doctors. The doctor just came in and said that he was just exhausted. Plus, his blood sugar got below the normal range. He was avoiding sweets too much and that resulted in his low level. Anyway, the doctor assured me that he was okay now and he could go anytime when he wakes up.” I looked at him, waiting for his temper to cool down a little.

I hoped he had just had a bad day and he was tired from work. I wished he would return to his old self, the one who was so kind and sympathetic to care about other’s feelings. He failed to answer me and turned to look at his son instead as his voice broke. “Hey, buddy. Daddy is here now. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll protect you from here on out.” His words stung me as if I’d been slapped. “Hunter, I—” Hunter raised his hand, and I thought he was going to hit me, so I closed my eyes, my heart beating out of my chest. Fear enveloped me as I stood, terrified of the man I loved with all my heart. This was not the Hunter I knew. When I opened my eyes, he gave me a disgusted look, grabbed my wrist, and halfdragged me into the hallway with people passing by, giving us odd looks. “What have you done to my son? He’s a little boy, Kylie. You’re pushing him too damn hard. What’s wrong with you?” He raised his voice in front of the crowd. People had stopped and turned to watch us, seeing a couple argue about something important. My lips trembled, my heart breaking in two. “I never wanted that to happen. I’m not pushing Vince. You know how much I love him. I would never do anything to…” My voice shook with emotion. I was mortified, numerous eyes were watching us. And the way Hunter looked at me was horrifying. “Stop talking, for fuck’s sake. You put my son in danger! What if something else had happened to him? You should not let him work at your store! This is your fucking fault.” He was screaming at me, mocking how much I loved Vince. I shook my head, my voice almost reduced to a whisper. “It’s not what I wanted,

Hunter. I love Vince. I wanted nothing else but for him to be happy and healthy.” I kept my eyes locked on him, telling him everything inside my heart. Vince was like a son to me. He was the son of the most special person in my life. But now, everything seemed to be melting in front of me. Desperation threatened to kick in and turn me into a blubbering idiot. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t know anything about being a parent. You’re not even his mother! Hell, you’re not a mother at all! You’re just a chick who lives next door to us!” Hunter was screaming at me, throwing those painful words like daggers. I leaned against the wall as my legs wobbled. I was cold and empty on the inside as realization sunk in. I could have killed Vince because I wasn’t a mother and didn’t understand what happened. And on top of that… I was a nobody to the two people I loved most outside of my mother. “How can you say that to me? I’ve done nothing but give up my life for both of you lately. I planned to do it forever.” I kept my eyes on the floor, my head all messed up. I couldn’t muster the courage to look up at Hunter. “Nobody loves Vince more than me besides you.” I glanced up as tears dripped down my face. “And this nobody loved you too.” Hunter stopped talking for a moment, his eyes going wide as he sucked in a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just…I don’t know.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I think it’s best if we take a break from each other until I figure out how I feel after this.” His voice was resentful. I couldn’t have cared less about what he felt at that moment. He’d crushed me with his abusive words. I stood up from my seat on the floor, staring at his eyes with a blank expression. “I couldn’t agree more. Tell Vince where I am when he asks. Tell him that your nobody neighbor has gone back to her own life, and not because she wanted to, but

because you forced her to.” I turned and walked out of the hospital, not daring to look back. My heart was torn in two as I pressed my hand to my lips and tried to hold back the scream beating against my teeth. Mine never was a fairy tale story with a happily ever after. Hunter wouldn’t be running and chasing me down the hall. He wouldn’t stop me from walking away from the hospital by taking me into his arms and professing his undying love for me. That shit didn’t exist. Not for anyone I’d ever know, and certainly not for me. My mother and Bailey had known exactly what would happen. They were right about Hunter. I should have listened to them before it was too late, but I didn’t. I gave love a chance, and she fucked me over good, turning me into a slut who got used by a man who was emotionally unavailable. Excellent. I turned to the parking lot and ran to my car. I got in and attempted to put the key in the ignition. For some reason I couldn’t, my hands shaking wildly. I threw the keys instead and buried my face on the steering wheel. It was not the most comfortable place to stay, but it would do for now. I could weep inside of my car without anyone seeing. I could scream and shout in pain all by myself for as long as I needed to. I couldn’t believe how things had turned upside down in a blink of an eye. Everything was just fine that morning, but now there was nothing left of my beautiful budding relationship with Hunter. Hunter was the best man I had known before this happened. I still could not believe why he had changed in an instant. He was a completely different man. It might have been my fault. I had neglected his son, and I had to face the consequences. I’d screwed up without knowing it, and now I had to pay the price.

My chest contracted tightly as I screamed again, my world dissolving before me. It was bad enough to love and lose someone, but to feel like the center of someone world meant everything to me. And now I’d gone from being everything to being the thing that scared me most. Nothing to no one. A nobody.

EXCESSIVE PART 4 Chapter 31 Hunter We had to go back to the hospital the next day for observation. Something was a little off with Vince’s blood sugar, and I wasn’t taking any chances. I’d forced myself not to think about Kylie and the way I’d treated her the day before. It hurt way too much to consider what I’d done. “Good boy, Vince. You’re doing great.” The nurse had closed the syringe and cleansed the portion where she had injected. The doctor was staring at Vince’s other test results, scrutinizing for any discrepancies and problems in his health. Vince opened his eyes slowly as the nurse pressed a cotton ball to his arm. “All done, buddy. Great job.” They left for a few minutes, and Vince turned his attention on me, worrying his eyes. “Dad. Where’s Kylie?” “She’s working, little man. Nothing to be concerned about.” I forced a smile and held his hand. “We’ll see her soon. I heard you were helping her yesterday when your sugar went low.” He smiled and nodded. “I love helping her. I would do anything for her, Dad.” Fuck me. Thankfully, the doctor walked back into the room, saving me from the conversation.

“Vince is doing well today. We’ll do a three-month test to make sure he’s good unless you have a concern and need to bring him in. Don’t hesitate to do so, or just call if you need to. Diabetes takes some getting adjusted to.” The doctor extended his hand, and both Vince and I shook it before I helped my boy off the table. “Thanks. We appreciate you.” I gave the doc a sincere nod. “No problem.” He knelt down and looked at Vince. “Good job on taking your shot, Vince. You’re a pretty strong kid. Just start resting a little more often when you feel dizzy, okay? And make sure someone else knows that you’re not feeling so good next time. As soon as it happens.” He patted Vince’s head, applauding his superb job and cooperation to keep himself safe. Then doctor turned his attention to me. “Your wife made the right decision. If it weren’t for her, your son would have been in terrible shape. You better thank her a lot when you take Vince back home. I know she was sick with worry. Tell her that she just needs to watch his coloring a little.” He touched his heart. “I felt horrible for her when she came in. She was crying and almost in shock.” I crumpled my brows in confusion. Then I realized he was talking about Kylie. He continued, pulling me from my thoughts. “She remained focused the whole time, speaking to her son while Vince was twisting in pain. I’m amazed how she managed to keep calm, which of course helped a lot. You’ve got two fighters in your family, Mr. Yonnie. You’re a very lucky man.” “Pardon me, Doc. Kylie is not my wife. She’s just a friend.” I bit my tongue in response to his thorough explanations on what had happened. A pang of guilt pierced my heart, boring a deep, huge hole in my hollow chest. I felt so dumb speaking to her poorly out in the hallway the day before. And seeing her cry? My chest ached. “Oh, is that so?” The doctor turned his attention on Vince. Vince looked away, his

cheeks turning red. “Your son seemed to like her a lot. I must say, he wishes for her to be his mom.” The doctor was smiling at him, but Vince was avoiding our eyes altogether. “Well, enough of the chit-chat. Just keep in mind everything I have advised you to do for Vince. We better not delay if things turned for the worse. But right now, your son is doing great, and you can check him out of here in just a few minutes.” The doctor waved his hand at Vince, but my son was still avoiding his stare. I watched him leave the room together with the nurses, giving me and my son privacy to talk about a few things. “How are you feeling now, buddy?” I asked him, although his eyes were still slanted downward. He looked mortified and ashamed. As if his deepest, darkest secret had been revealed in front of a crowd of people who would gossip about it for ages. He was exposed, and he was timid to talk more about it, even with me. I hated it. “Yeah, Daddy. Sorry for telling the doctor that Kylie’s my mom.” He raised the topic himself. My heart contracted painfully as if his words struck my most vulnerable area. I pursed my lips and nodded, truly uncertain of what to say at that point. I sat on the side of his bed as I stroked his hair away from his face. “You know that lying is a bad thing to do. You shouldn’t do it again, buddy. But, I understand why you did it.” I was disappointed in myself as well. I had been blinding myself over my own feelings. I was lying about what my heart was really telling me to do. I wasn’t a good example for Vince to follow. I wasn’t practicing what I was preaching in the slightest form. He was telling people that Kylie was his mother, and I was pretending she wasn’t my lover or anything of importance to me. We were both lying. She meant everything to me. Sickness filled my stomach as the scene in the hallway played in my mind’s eye. She

would never forgive me. “Sorry, Dad. I won’t do it again. I don’t want you and Kylie to be mad at me.” I watched as his eyes sparkled, tears collating at the sides. I held his hand tight and offered him a loving smile. “It’s okay, buddy. Just don’t do that again.” He grasped my hand in return. A trickle of a tear flowed down his cheek which I wiped away. “But first, tell me why you told the doctor that Kylie was your mom?” “I want her to be my mom, Daddy. Kylie’s the best; I like her and Nana a lot. They love us so much, and I love them too. I’ve always wanted a mom. Everyone has one, but me.” His lip quivered as another set of tears flowed from his cheeks. Fuck me for messing things up with Kylie. Vince’s happiness meant the world to me, and I’d found the perfect woman to complete us both, and I’d already messed it up. Guilt raged inside of me. And I hated myself at the moment. “Don’t think about all of that right now, buddy. It’s okay.” I clutched his hand tightly. Vince was the only constant I had in my life. I could not afford to lose him too. He yielded a forced smile, looking silly. I laughed at his expression and pulled him in for a hug. After we had squeezed the stuffing out of each other, he moved back and glanced up at me. “Daddy, what are you thinking?” He reached up and massaged the space between my eyebrows, his little fingers cold, his eyes filled with far more wisdom than he should have had at five. I let out a heavy sigh and smiled. “Nothing. I’m good. How about you?” “Nothing really. I just don’t want to feel that pain again. It scared me a lot. Kylie made me feel like it was going to be okay. I just wished that she was here with us.” His lip protruded as his eyes filled with tears again.

I held his hand as I smiled at him. “Don’t you worry about anything right now, buddy. It’s all going to be great. We’ll figure it out like we always do. Together.” I kissed his forehead and smiled at him. “ “Thank you, Daddy. I have the best dad in the world. I’m too lucky to have you and Kylie.” “I have the best son in the world too. The best superhero that ever lived.” He held my hand tighter before and gave me an innocent look, which I was coming to understand wasn’t so innocent. “So, Kylie’s at work at the store with her mom today?” I fidgeted with my fingers in his tiny hand. “Yeah, she needed to be at the convenience store. Mrs. Tomms called, and they needed to do a lot of work there lately. She will probably be very busy in the upcoming days. She might not come around at the house much from now on.” He looked worried, but still, his face was cheerful and glad. “We should visit them sometime then. I bet they would love to have me work at the store.” “Sounds great.” I got up and offered him my hands. “Let’s see if we can get out of here, hm?” Vince smiled. “We’ll bust out like superheroes do.” “I think that’s a great idea, little man.” Sadly enough, he was the only hero in the room. Overnight, I found myself feeling far more like a villain. We walked down the hall and found the doctor had approved our request for checking out. I settled the bill and signed all the paperwork as the doctor spoke for the last time to Vince. “You can eat sweets, but not too many. Eat everything in moderation, okay?” Vince

nodded, listening fervently to the doctor’s orders. He smiled at my son upon seeing his energy return, being the gleeful kid he had always been. “Okay, this kid’s ready to go. Visit me for your regular checkups. But in the meantime, you can now rest and go home.” The doctor turned his attention to me. I held my son’s hand and thanked the doctor before we left. As we walked out of the hallway, I recalled the awful things I had said to Kylie. Was I really that guy? One who would hurt someone as beautiful and sweet as my girl? She used to be your girl. The drive home was long and gave me far too much fucking time to think. Vince had fallen asleep on the way, the little guy still trying to get used to this new way of life. When we got home, I carried my son to his room to rest. He was still asleep, regaining his strength from his latest incident. He looked so gentle and sweet, but also a little fragile. The thought scared me. I walked out of his room with a heavy heart. My chest was aching so badly I put my hand on it and rubbed softly. Something deep inside of me turned into a hollow, gaping hole. What the fuck had I done? Walking outside of the house, I turned to look at Kylie’s place. The lights inside were turned on, suggesting that Kylie was home. As I stared at her room’s window, I smiled over the light that shone inside. My smile turned into a frown when I watched the room turn dark again. Just like everything we had, things vanished into the dark. I rubbed my chest a little harder, as an indescribable darkness swelled inside of me. I grabbed a chair and sat on the back porch, keeping my eyes on her bedroom, praying I would see her. I could not have been more upset with myself. Everything I did was a childish act, a

selfish move. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I shouldn’t have said those things to her. She never deserved to be treated that way. She deserved so much more than I was giving her even when things were good. I told her she was just a nobody, but I guess the joke was on me. It was me who was a nobody. Only Vince saw me as someone worth loving, and Kylie had, but surely not now. Vince had always admired me for being the most courageous superhero in the world. But I was the opposite of that. I was born a simple man with a coward’s heart. I was never the daredevil who explored things without any hesitations. I was just somebody who stuck around the comfortable zone, where emotional dangers rarely came to visit. I was a coward to push her away rather than trying things out. And there it was. My overreaction was a protection mechanism, and it had served me in the past well, but tonight it had me feeling two inches tall, alone and miserable. After being a dick to the woman I love, it was what I deserved.

Chapter 32 Kylie It had been two days since I stood at the hospital with Hunter screaming in my face, but I was still paralyzed with agony over it. The moment replayed in my head over and over as I lay in bed, crying like a child would at the death of someone important. I woke from the worst dream I’d ever had the next morning. Vince had been crying as he held my hand tight, but a force was taking me away from him. A dark shadow, and I couldn’t figure out what it was or what to do about it. It was strong and so powerful. Although I held Vince’s hand, the force was too domineering and dragged me away from him. After the dark shadow had dragged me away from Vince, it faced me with his piercing eyes. It was the man who broke into my house. I spotted a table with my gun on it. I ran to the table, taking the gun to shoot the man. I was certain that I could pull the trigger now and kill that beast. I would do anything to protect Vince, and that included putting the pale-faced man down. When I was clearing the gun’s chamber, the dark shadow began to uncover his face. He took off the dark cloth that covered his identity. I dropped my gun to see who it was. The man behind the mask was the man I loved the most. The man who crushed my heart into pieces. Hunter. Right after seeing his face, I woke up, the nightmare still clinging to me like a heavy

cloak. My heart was still racing from my chest, my breathing heavy and fast. It felt like I had run a marathon with all my sweat, trickling down my forehead. My clothes were soaked in sweat, the madness of my bad dream having completely taken over me. I sat up and ran my fingers through my damp hair as reality came crashing in. I was back at my house, the place where a burglar came and broke in weeks ago. Things were now fixed and looking normal, but it didn’t feel like a home anymore. It felt like a dangerous dark hole where I rested, unsafe. I still couldn’t believe how things had turned upside down two nights before. Hunter and Vince used to be the two people I lived for, but now they were supposed to be like strangers to me? “Impossible,” I whispered to the empty room around me. I felt hollow. My head still hurting from crying for two days. I stood up and walked to the bathroom to wash my face. My eyes were swollen, dark shadows circling them. I looked horrible and disgusting. “At least my insides match my outsides. No living a lie today.” I returned to my bed after washing my face. I took my phone and hoped for a message from Hunter, but there was nothing. Instead, I dialed my mother’s number to call in sick. After several rings, she picked up the phone. “Hello, Kylie? What’s the matter?” She knew me too well. It was way too early, and I didn’t get up until I had to most days. And it was never this early “Mom, can I take the day off? I’m feeling a bit sick.” I laid in my bed, resting my head on the soft pillow I drenched with my tears last night. “Of course, but are you okay? Do you want me to come over and bring something for you?” Her motherly instinct was too powerful to sense my pain. “No, Mom. I’m okay; I can handle things. Don’t worry about me. I just need time to

rest and sleep.” I did not want her to know what I was going through. She would get disappointed in me and Hunter, and hearing ‘I told you so’ wasn’t something I could stomach just yet, though, she was right. “I’ll call you later, Mom. Have a great day at the store.” “Are you sure, Kylie? I can feel something’s wrong,” she asked again, pushing a little. “Yeah, Mom. If I get better during the day, I’ll come by and help.” I closed my eyes, stopping my tears from falling. Pain ran through my chest, stinging me and making it so damn hard to breathe. “No, don’t worry about it. Just rest and relax. I’ll come by after I close the shop to bring you something. Is that okay?” “Sure, Mom. I’ll see you then.” I dropped the call before she could tell that I was crying. I sunk my face into the pillow, hiding. I hoped I could sleep again, but I feared that nightmares might come back and fuck me up good. I had nothing left to do. Either way, the pain would come and remind me of how shitty my life was before Hunter and Vince and that I hadn’t been good enough to hold onto it. It was all gone, and I was alone – again. I laid there a few minutes longer before realizing that I had to do something, talk to someone. Bailey. She would be there for me. She always had been before. * I drove to Bailey’s with my head in the clouds, my thoughts consuming me the entire way. I got out and walked to the door, knocking twice and moving back. After a quick inhale and a short coaching session in my head, Bailey opened the door, and Cat pounced

on my legs. “Ki-we!” The cute little thing tried to pronounce my name. I smiled and patted her hair, showing my appreciation for her sweet welcome. She moved around me and huffed. “Where’s Vince?” Her tiny voice was oozing with cuteness. “Come on in, my friend.” Bailey reached for me, pulling me into a hug. I kept her a little ways away during the embrace thanks to the messed up apron she wore. It was stained with splatters of food coloring and icing as if she battled it out with baking items as weapons. I wrinkled my eyes, baffled by why she looked awfully messy. “What the hell happened here?” I asked her, surprised by the bizarre, speckled form she presented before us. Cat looked at her mother then laughed at her, finding it funny to see a living rainbow in front of her. “I was baking for you, you idiot! Where’s Vince? I thought you might bring him with you. I made some sugar-free pancakes in rainbow colors today.” That explained her untidy look. Emotion choked me up, and I wasn’t able to get an answer out to her just yet. Bailey and Cat trailed behind me as I walked to the kitchen, wiping at my eyes the whole way. “Kylie, are you deaf today, silly?” Bailey pulled me to a stop from behind. I turned and pressed my hands to my face as a soft sob left me. “I’m sorry.” “Hey. Come here.” She pulled me close and held me. “What’s going on? Did something happen with your momma?” “No.” I pressed into the hold, warmed by Cat’s response to my pain. The little girl

was wrapped around my leg, holding me as well. “Hunter told me to leave them alone.” I was speaking as clearly as I could, but my voice was thick through my tears. “He even told me that I would never be Vince’s mother. I’m just a nobody.” “What?” She moved back and smoothed my hair. “Most men are douchebags, but I thought maybe Hunter was different. Obviously not.” She shook her head as another wave of tears tore me up. “I don’t know anything right now.” I wiped at my face, feeling stupid for falling apart again. Her tone was soft. “You know, when I saw you and Hunter together during Cat’s birthday party, I felt like he was different. The two of you had a spark, an undeniable chemistry. It was beautiful. But I guess I was right. It’s difficult to get attached to someone with an additional baggage behind him. Being a single parent is hard, and you mess up a lot.” I looked down, realizing the reminders Bailey and my mother had always told me. They were single parents who supported their kids on their own. They completed the rare list of the most valiant and persevered persons I had ever met in my life. I should have listened and not got involved, or at the least, taken better care of little Vince. “I know it is.” I nodded and found somewhere to sit down. “You know what I think, Kylie?” I raised my head to stare at her eyes. She was smiling at me like she was about to say something that had the power to sooth, my soul. Cat was listening too; her eyes darted to her mother as if she understood the things we talked about.

“What?” I asked my best friend with a shaky voice. I wiped the remaining tears from my cheek as my crying had finally stopped. “I know everything he did for you was sincere. He must have felt the same love, but his fear consumed him. The fear of losing someone so important to him and Vince. He was holding back because he was frightened to experience the same thing that happened in his previous relationship.” She looked at me, her smile still consistently drawn on her face. I studied her, waiting for the man-bashing part. I found nothing sarcastic about her words. She was telling the truth. She believed Hunter was a good guy and just fell apart in the face of fear. It was understandable, but it didn’t change anything. He didn’t want me in his life, and I was too tired and hurt to fight for a different outcome.

Chapter 33 Hunter It was finally the end of the week, and it had been a long one. Trying to explain to Vince for the last few days why Kylie wasn’t in our lives and trying my hardest not to lie about it had me weary as fuck. I knocked on Vince’s door since he had not come out of his room yet. He was a vibrant morning person who woke up by himself without anyone shaking him to get up. Lately, he seemed to change. The old, cheerful son I usually had was now a gloomy, aloof kid who lost his appetite for food and interaction with others. After a series of knocks, he was unresponsive. I decided to turn the knob and enter his room carefully. He was still lying in bed, his back facing me. His body was covered up with his blanket. “Buddy, are you awake?” I stepped closer to him, sitting on the side of his bed to wake him up. I shook his shoulder lightly to wake him from his sleep. “Come on, Vince. Wake up and eat your breakfast.” I could feel his shoulder was fighting me as I turned him to face me. I peeked over his face and found tears all over his face, his nose already red from crying. “Hey, buddy. Come on, why are you crying? Superheroes don’t cry.” “I had a really bad dream, Daddy.” I looked at him as he finally faced me. His eyes were still puffy and red from excessive crying, but he managed to stop sobbing. I had wiped his runny nose before he continued his story.

“Oh, yeah? Well, tell me about it then.” “I dreamed of Kylie, you, and me going into the forest to hunt those bad hogs that rooted up our yard. At first, we were all happy and laughing. I was enjoying everything I saw in the forest. There were beautiful flowers, tall trees, even a mother and baby squirrel watching us from a low branch. I loved the trip we had. It was awesome.” His eyes grew big, amused by the things he saw from his dream. “And then I spotted a hog hiding behind a thick tree trunk, watching over us with crazy eyes. When I pointed it to you, Kylie was preparing to shoot the hog. But something different happened.” His eyes became dead, his face filled with fright. “What happened, buddy?” I rubbed his hair and tried to use a calming tone with him. He was pretty shaken. “The hog transformed into a monster. He began to run toward Kylie, jumping on her and squishing her under its big body. She was screaming and crying for help, but you dragged me away from her. I could still hear her shouting, begging for us to help her. But you dragged me away from her, Daddy. We left her to die with the hog.” I pulled him into my arms as my heart shattered farther. I missed Kylie so fucking much, I was having trouble eating and sleeping too, but seeing Vince hurt over it was too much. “I’ll not leave her alone, buddy. Kylie’s not going anywhere.” “She’s already gone. We haven’t seen her in forever. And I don’t want her to get hurt, Daddy.” His eyes were pleading with me, hoping that I would protect Kylie no matter what. “She’s just busy, Vince, but just know that I won’t let anything happen to her ever, okay?” I hugged him tight which seemed to calm him down. I got lost in my thoughts, wondering what my beautiful girl was up to.

Vince broke my day dreaming as he moved out of my arms. He moved to his window, looking out toward her house, and I studied his disposition. He looked like a gloomy kid who had given up on something he once hoped for. I had to fix things, at least where he was concerned. “What if we visit the lake and go fishing today?” “Yes! Wait, is Kylie coming with us?” He turned and asked in a small voice, hoping that the answer would finally be a yes. I bit my lower lip before answering him. “I’m sorry, buddy. But Kylie is still busy working on some things for the convenience store.” “Why don’t we go to the store instead? I bet Nana and Kylie are dying to see me again.” His eyes begged for my compliance. “Sorry, buddy. They are busy and hoped to do things on their own. We can’t disturb them.” I got up and walked over, ruffling his hair a little. “So, no on the fishing, cause I’d really love some sunshine and time with my favorite superhero on the planet?” “Okay to the fishing.” He nodded and walked to his dresser; his shoulders rolled, his little head down a little. Fuck me for messing things up with Kylie. * “I love this place!” Vince ran off to the dock right after I parked the car, his mood picking up fast now that we were at the lake. He was all gleeful and vibrant, his old self finally returning. I hoped I could keep his mood uplifted. His smile was just the best thing I could live for in the middle of my darkness. I got out of the car and carried our fishing equipment and picnic basket, walking

behind him languidly. As I walked toward the dock, memories flashed back before me. I could still recall in vivid detail the first time we came to the lake with Kylie. Bright, beautiful, and blissful. Something just like her. Shaking my head to eradicate the thought, I stopped beside Vince. His feet were dangling from the dock as he watched the clear water below him. I could see some of the fish swimming just below the surface, which helped my mood significantly. Vince took his fishing rod and put the bait on the hook by himself. I offered him help, but he was persistent to do it alone. “I’m all grown up now, Daddy. Plus, I want to try it myself.” “All right, Vince. Have at it, but be careful.” I knelt beside him and watched, a little surprised at how good he was at picking up new skills. He prepared his fishing equipment alone. After he had thrown the bait into the water, he waited in patience for some fish to bite. He was swinging his feet, keeping his eye on the rod. “Daddy,” he called out to me, but his eyes were fixated on his rod. “I miss Kylie a lot. My heart gets real little and hurts so bad when I think about her.” I dropped my fishing rod, surprised by Vince’s words. I knew he missed her, but it was the first time he spoke about his feelings so plainly. I watched as his face remained expressionless as he drifted off. I missed her too. My heart had been aching for days. My bed felt so empty without her. The house was lonely, as if a puzzle piece had been lost from the ensemble. She was the bright sun that gave light to our lives. Now she’d gone and it was entirely my fault. I answered him with a regretful voice, saddened by how things between us turned out.

“I miss her too, buddy.” He glanced over at me, his eyes holding too much wisdom for his age. “Did she leave us like Mom did?” Pain like I’d never felt rolled through me, scorching my insides. “Vince, your mom died in childbirth. I told you that.” “I know, but her dying is the same as her leaving. She went to the clouds. She left us.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper. “Did Kylie leave us too?” “No, son. She’s—” Just as I started to speak, the line on Vince’s fishing rod began to pull down. He turned the reel while the rod shook. I jumped up and came to his aid, pulling the stick upwards as he rotated the reel. In a few moments of struggle, we successfully caught a big fish. Another trout. “That’s a Superman fish, Daddy!” he exclaimed in delight, watching as I unhooked the fish from the end. His eyes were lit up, his face happy and content. The expression I hoped for him to keep was drawn on his face. “Yeah! Great job, buddy!” I raised my hand for a high five. He slapped his hand on mine, giving me an energized clap. His questions died down after that, and we agreed to concentrate on filling up our cooler with fish, which meant being quiet and watching for any movement in the line. It was a great way to save me from having to dive any deeper into my heartache. The day went by fast. We caught ten more fish, the day a huge success by my standards. I carried the heavy ice box filled with fish and put it in the car’s trunk while my son brought the fishing rods. After we had packed up, the two of us got inside the car. We drove home exhausted but having had a great day together.

Vince was seated at my side, a big grin drawn on his face. “Dad, I wish Kylie was with us. If she just saw how I caught a lot of fish from the lake, she would be very proud. She would then cook the fish I caught when we reached home. I could hear her tell me again and again how funny you were every time you turn your fishing rod’s reel. She would laugh until her tummy hurts. She would hug us tight and tell us how happy she was to have us in her life.” I looked at him, his eyes sad. “Can we see her again, please, Dad? Pretty please?” It was something I overlooked the entire trip. Despite the joy on his face, something deep inside of him was empty as well. His eyes were sad, mirroring how much he missed visiting the convenience store. He missed seeing Nana and the time they shared reading books. Most of all, he missed Kylie. I couldn’t keep Vince from Kylie, even if she didn’t want to see me. Maybe she’d still want to see him. I needed to apologize, but I couldn’t. My pride wouldn’t let me, no matter how much it hurt me to hang onto it. “We’ll see her soon, buddy,” I answered him with firm conviction. This time, I would not disappoint him. This time, I was telling him a promise I would keep. This time, I would make it right. Somehow.

Chapter 34 Kylie It had been a long week, but it was Friday, and I forced myself to feel good about it. I had been trudging through life lately and hated every minute of it, but it was what it was. Hunter’s words had left me a shell of who I thought I was, and I’d get over it, but not yet. It still hurt too damn much to try. Right after I checked out the last customer in line, my mother moved to stand in front of me. Her hands were on her hips, her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Kylie?” She posed the question again. It was the millionth time she asked, but I managed to escape her every time. I was running out of excuses and alibis to distract her. It was getting tougher and tougher for me to make things up. I exhaled heavily, my heart so damn heavy. “I’m still not feeling well, Mom.” It was one of my rusty reasons, but I had nothing else. She put the back of her hand over my forehead, then on my neck. After testing my temperature, she crossed her hands beneath her chest. Her eyes were starting to get tedious and peeved. “Stop fooling around, Kylie. You have been using that fever excuse since the other day, but you’re not even hot. What’s really going on, and where the hell has my Vince been? It’s been a whole week without his sweet little face in my store. Tell me now.” “Mom, Hunter kicked me out of their lives.” I shrugged as tears filled my eyes.

Her expression changed in a split second. From the peevish, bored one, she turned into a surprised, pitying mood. It was a quick shift, but I understood why. I was still surprised by how things turned out so poorly. “What happened? How the hell did things become like this?” She was staring at me with troubled eyes. Her tone was filled with anger and concern “Remember the day when I rushed Vince to the hospital? Hunter showed up at the hospital that day furious at me. We talked about things, and he was angry at me for neglecting his son. He even told me how I acted like I was Vince’s mother, but I wasn’t his mother. I was no one’s mother.” A soft sob left me as I pulled the scab off the wound. “He said that I was a nobody who meddled too much with their affairs. He told me that we should part ways and take our time alone. It was the best thing to do at this point, anyway.” Everything flashed before me like it happened just yesterday. My heart raced as the room grew dim through my tears. “How rude of him! That wasn’t your fault the day Vince passed out. You’re not a doctor.” My mother walked around the counter and pulled me into a warm hug, stroking my hair and pressing her cheek to the top of my head. “I think I’m in shock. I would never have expected Hunter to say such horrible things. I know I warned you about him before, but I thought I was wrong. I thought he was a man who loved you so much. Maybe my gut feeling was right, after all. He was a good for nothing, ignorant asshole.” My eyes were hurting. I wanted to sink to the floor and weep, but I couldn’t cry anymore. The sadness had to stop. “I know, Momma.” “I just can’t believe it, Kylie. Hunter can’t do these things.” She moved back, took my shoulders, and shook her head in disappointment. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should have known earlier.” The sound of her voice calmed me, her touch reminding me that I was someone. I was hers.

“Me either.” I shrugged and reached up to wipe my cheeks, my skin so tender from wiping at it too often as of late. “I just wish I could redo the day. I love Vince. I would never do anything to—” “Well, of course, you wouldn’t. Don’t even think like that. Hunter should be slapped in the face for hurting you. Now, tell me what I can do for you.” She yielded a weak smile, hoping for me to cheer up. “Just hug me, Mom. I’m going to be fine once I figure out how to get over all of this.” I moved back into her arms and let out a soft sigh, finding a little bit of peace. “We’ll figure it out together, okay, angel?” She patted my face and smiled at me with love in her eyes. “Thanks, Mom. I’d better get back to work,” I uttered, informing my mother that I was fine and ready for work again. She looked at me with a worried glance, not trusting me. “Are you sure? You can rest for a while if you need time.” “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thanks for loving me.” “I will always love you.” She walked back to the pastry counter, and I forced myself to tuck away every shitty emotion racing through me and forget about Hunter and Vince for a little while. While I waited for someone to check out their groceries, the chime rang. I looked at the door to see the new customer walking in. I froze as the pale guy who I was almost positive had broken into my house walked in. It was him. No doubt. Why did he wear the same clothes today that he wore that night? Did he want me to recognize him? He was the same one who made my mom uncomfortable all the time. Why did I have to always give people the benefit of the doubt?

He looked around, searching for something. Upon staring at my direction, his pallid face drew a sinister, sly smile. It was a creepy to watch, bringing goosebumps all over my body. “Hello there, Kylie. Long time no see,” the man said, his lips crooked in a smirk. He looked terrifying, and I could no longer move a muscle. He stood before me, observing the surroundings behind the counter. “You got some mints back there with you? How did he know my name? I couldn’t get my tongue loose to ask. I managed to nod instead. I put the mint drops down on the counter. He pulled his wallet out and stared me dead in the face. “So, where is your boyfriend?” “Boyfriend? No clue what you’re talking about. I’m single.” I shrugged and took his money while forcing a smile on my face. “Don’t play dumb. You know who I’m talking about.” He took the mints from the counter, as well as the coins he had for change. “If you don’t know, it’s fine. I’ll find him myself.” Before the man walked out of our convenience store, he stopped and faced me with a devilish look on his face. “Bye, Kylie. I hope I will still see you again. Keep safe.” He walked out whistling something. Fear raced through me as I turned to look at my mother. She was silently reading her book. Her attention was focused on the novelette she had just started yesterday. I needed to know who that man was. “Mom,” I called. “Who the hell is that man?” She looked at me with skeptic eyes. “Who?” “The man with a creepy look and pallid face. The man you don’t speak to and can’t stand when he comes in.” I watched as her expression turned sullen.

“That man is dangerous. People have always talked about him behind his back. I’m not sure if the rumors are true, but supposedly he killed Hunter’s father a few years back. Although he was the prime suspect, no evidence was found to accuse him as the killer.” She looked at me with remorseful eyes. “Sorry for making you attend to that man. I don’t know, Kylie. But something in the way he looked at me, there was something off. Like he wanted to harm me or something. I just could not talk to him.” He was the key suspect in Hunter’s father’s death? How horrible. I thought of the way he spoke and looked at me like he wanted to grab me and shake me. I shivered and turned from my mom, pretty sure that I should do something about him, but what? * The last hours at the convenience store were jammed pack. People came for lastminute purchasing. I drove home at around eleven, my head dizzy and my body tired from all the work we had done. Arriving home was a relief. Soon enough I would finally collapse on my bed, or so I hoped. After I had parked my car, I dragged my feet like a lazy dog to the front door feeling so far beyond exhausted. I searched for my key to the house when I heard footsteps behind me. Goosebumps raised on my skin as found the key and poked it in the lock. I was just hearing things. Everything was fine. As soon as I stepped into the house, a familiar voice rose up behind me. “Kylie. You finally made it home. I don’t think I realized it was you who lived here.” Lies. He laughed,

and I jerked around, my heart almost stopping in my chest. The pale-faced guy from the store. “Guess fate brought us together again, hmm, pretty lady?” “What do you want?” I whispered as I realized he had a gun. He was holding a long gun, one I recalled Hunter saying was illegal. It was pointed right at my head, and his finger was pressed on the trigger from what I could tell. “Hunter’s a nuisance to my black-market business. I needed to wipe out the competition, just like what I did with his dad. But I decided, why not play a game to make things fun? Ruin his property, get him to love somebody, kill the ones he loves, and make him devastated. That’s a better suffering for him, right?” The last few weeks raced through my mind. This asshole knew good and damn well that I lived here. “How dare you.” I felt all of my sorrow and loss turn into hate and fury, leaving me willing to do anything to watch him suffer instead of Hunter. “Luckily, I controlled the game completely. You should congratulate me for a job well done, no?” I pulled my gun out of my purse and lifted it as quickly as I could, taking a risk that he would put a bullet in my head while I did. I had failed to protect myself so many times. I couldn’t let this be another time. “Stay there, or I’ll shoot you in your head.” My voice was full of strength, but fuck me if I didn’t have the safety on. How was I going to get it off without him seeing me? I couldn’t. Once again…I’d failed at life. He laughed. “Brave effort, Kylie. I admire you for finally pulling that up. I’m sorry to say this though, but it’s time to go.” In a blink of an eye, I lost track of everything. A light flashed behind him, and he screamed as the sound of a gun going off filled my ears.

Chapter 35 Hunter I’d been sitting on the back porch when Kylie drove up, and I got to my feet knowing that I needed to talk with her about Vince. I’d apologize for being such a dick myself too, but my deepest desire was to make things right for my boy. I deserved to be alone. Obviously. As she walked to the house, a guy moved out of the shadows with a gun in his hand. I almost swallowed my tongue. Grabbing my gun, I jogged over there as quietly as I could and lifted my gun. His words shocked me. Without another thought, I lifted my weapon and fired, putting a hole in his arm as Kylie screamed and ran into the house. That creep fell to the ground and bled profusely. He was cringing in pain, his gun lying near the open doorway as I ran over. I picked up his gun before he could get it and pointed my down at him. “Kylie. It’s Hunter. Call the cops, baby.” I narrowed my eyes at the guy as he blinked rapidly and passed out. “Bastard.” I could hear her talking to the cops, her voice broken as she cried and shook. The minute she finished the call, I called out to her. “Kylie. Everything is okay. Come out here so I can see you.”

She walked out and moved into my arms without hesitation. I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, kissing the side of her face. “Shhh…I’m right here. It’s okay. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” I had her back, and I would protect her no matter what, just like I promised Vince I would. I was grateful to be able to keep that promise after fucking up so many other ones. Upon hearing my voice, she seemed to gain back her consciousness. She looked up at me, tears rolling down her face. “Thank you for the help.” “I got you, okay? Just rest against me.” The softness of her body pressed against my side coupled with her sweet scent had my heart doing flip-flops, my body aching. What had I done with her? I’d fucked up everything to protect myself. Shame rolled over me in great waves. She buried her face against my neck and panted softly. “Thank you, Hunter. Thank you for saving me.” Her hands clung to my shirt as her lips touched the side of my neck. I stifled a groan and tightened my arm around her thin frame. “No problem.” I held her until I heard the siren of the cops, coming to the rescue. The lights of their patrol cars were blinding us. In a few more minutes, the ambulance came to the scene of the crime too. Several police officers surrounded the creep together with a few EMS guys. We moved into the yard to get out of their way. “What happened, Mr. Yonnie?” one of the police officers asked as he walked up. “I was coming to check on her and saw someone dart out from the trees with a gun. I grabbed my gun and put a bullet in his arm to stop him. It’s the same asshole who has been burglarizing her place and stopping by my shop,” I explained. “Thank goodness, Mr. Yonnie. I hope these horrible things stop for both of you.

You’ve both been through so much.” The police officer was turning his back and walked off as I tried to locate Kylie in the dark. Another officer pulled her off to get her statement. I found her standing by the EMS truck, her hair a mess, her face stained with tears. My heart overflowed with love for the pretty girl. I walked over and slid my hand into hers before pulling her close to my side. Kylie wrapped her arms around me tightly and pressed her cheek to my chest. “Kylie, you can’t stay here anymore. It’s too late, and I can’t let you go anywhere now. You’re coming to stay with me tonight. We can talk about things.” I kissed the top of her head as she nodded. She glanced up and stole my breath with the deep sadness in her gaze, her blue eyes filled with far too many emotions. She had endured so much pain, and I couldn’t hurt her or me anymore. Not even to protect myself. We walked hand in hand to my house right after the police officer consented that we go home and rest. She was silent the whole time, her expressive eyes speaking on her behalf. I felt so damn guilty, but despite that, I felt fulfilled. She was with me again, and I could at least try and fix things. We got into the house and sat on the couch together. Her arms were clinging tightly to my body, and I held her for a few minutes, just reveling in the feeling of her once against in my arms. All I wanted was to have her in my life again, to know that she loved me and forgave me for being such a fucking idiot. “Kylie, I’m sorry.” I stroked her gentle face. She looked so beautiful despite her vulnerability. My heart ached to see her sad, but I deserved to suffer. I deserved this pain. “I did all of those stupid things that night because I was frightened that I would fall in love with you, and you’d pick up and leave me eventually. I couldn’t bear the thought of suffering that same pain again. Vince loves you so much, and I can’t afford to see him be

crushed into pieces.” She turned to meet my eyes, her eyes crowded with tears. “I’m not going to do that to you and Vince. You are the most important people in my life, and I would never do anything to hurt Vince.” “Baby, I know that. I overreacted.” I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m a coward. I should have fought for you like the way you fought for us. I don’t deserve you, but here I am today begging you to forgive me. I don’t want you to go, Kylie. Please, I’ll do everything just to have you stay.” I knelt before her, pleading for her forgiveness. “Please, Kylie. I’m sorry for everything. I realized I can’t live without you. Give me another chance. Just one more.” Tears fell from her cheeks, but the look on her face told me that she’d already forgiven me. She loved me, and like a good woman did, she made sure I knew it. “Okay, just one more chance though. If you mess up this time, I’ll be forced to shoot you with my new gun.” We laughed together, and I moved back onto the couch, pulling her back into my arms. “You couldn’t hurt a flea if you had to.” “What?” She laughed. “I’ve killed a hog. Remember?” “I do remember.” I brushed my nose by hers and kissed her softly. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” “Me too.” She snuggled against me. “Don’t hurt me again though, Hunter. My intentions are pure, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much to leave, ever.” As she released her hold on me, I touched her cheeks and caressed her face. The remnants of tears served as scars of the bitter yesterday, but her smile signified the beauty of tomorrow we would be facing together. My heart was beating fast as I whispered these

words in her ear. “I will never hurt you again, baby. I love you too. So fucking much.” “Can we go to bed now? I’m still freaked out and so damn tired from all of this.” She looked hopefully at me. “Hell yeah.” I got up and took her hand in mine, walking up the stairs in front of her. We’d almost had a tragedy that would have scarred me and Vince forever, but it all turned around because I kept my promise to little man. Kylie was behind me, having already forgiven me, and wanting to spend the night in my arms. Everything was good. Fuck, better than good. We climbed the stairs together, our hands holding each other. Upon reaching my room, I let her lay on my bed and rest. I laid beside her, assuring her that she was not alone. She’d had a rough night, and I wanted her to feel safe and loved. “Thank you for protecting me.” She cuddled against me. “I’ll never go far away from you. I’ll just stay beside you no matter what. I promise, and I’ll always be here to protect what’s mine.” I tucked her golden blonde locks away from her face. “Good, because I am…yours.” She closed her eyes and fell asleep in my arms, making me the happiest man in the world.

Chapter 36 Kylie I woke up next to Hunter, finding solace with him lying next to me. I lifted his arm, careful so as not to wake him up from his deep sleep. I sat up and took my time to stare at his face. He was good looking and charming, even when he was sleeping. I kissed his cheek and stood up, readying myself for the new day. Staying there overnight had me wanting to rekindle my usual routine. I jogged downstairs and walked into the kitchen, just like I had before everything went to hell in a hand basket. It was my task to prepare breakfast. Eager to make my boys happy, I planned to cook something extra special. An old recipe my mom used to make for the holidays. It was a little lavish, but it would be worth it. After getting it all together, I poked my head into Vince’s room and let out a soft sigh. The little guy was on his back, his arms and legs spread out across the bed. He was so freaking precious. The delicious aroma of the dish baking in the oven lingered around the house. My mouth watered and stomach grumbled as I breathed in deeply and walked back into the kitchen. Just as I took the baked French toast from the oven, I heard someone approaching. Vince came to the kitchen, his hair a mess and his eyes sleepy from just waking up. He was rubbing his eyes when I looked at him. His cute little mouth popped opened in surprise. He shook his head and wiped his eyes again as if trying to shake off the remnants

of a dream. “Kylie?” His little voice broke, killing me. “Is that how you welcome me back to your house, little superhero?” I opened my arms and knelt down, getting ready for a warm reunion. “No way!” he screamed happily, his little arms flung open as he ran to me and jumped into my arms. “Are you done with your work, Kylie? Are you finally coming back? Daddy said you were working a lot, but, man, did I miss you so much.” “Yes, I’m coming back. I won’t ever leave you again, Vince. I missed you so much. Thanks for taking care of your daddy for me.” I kissed his cheek and memorized the moment as he clung to me, snuggling against my neck. “Looks like I’m late for breakfast.” Hunter came to the kitchen to witness our blissful reunion. “Smells delicious, baby.” “Dad!” Vince wiggled out of my arms and ran to his father, dragging him back toward me and wrapping his arms around both of our thighs. “We are finally complete again! I am so happy!” I pulled apart from the embrace, recalling what I was cooking. “Since I missed you two, I’m treating you as the kings of this house. I’ll serve you with the best breakfast ever. Just sit and relax. I’ll set up the table for the first meal of the day.” I finished my dish and prepared the table as they watched me with curiosity. It made me feel pretty, important, loved. “This woke me up! This smell!” Vince was exclaiming his joy upon seeing the gooey baked French toast. Hunter chuckled. “Vince, calm down. You’re going to blow a gasket in that head of yours.”

“Sorry, Daddy. I just got too excited about my favorite dish. Everything’s our favorite!” The excitement in his expression and voice was unquestionable. I laughed and took my seat between then. “Well, eat up and tell me what you’ve been up to this last week while I was working.” Hunter slid his hand over the top of mine and squeezed my fingers, the thankfulness in his eyes unraveled me. He was beyond handsome and having thought that we were over before we really began was more than I could bear. The meal went on with us listening to Vince’s stories. I’d missed this kid. After telling us how many books he finished reading and coloring, Hunter interrupted him. “Buddy, are you up for a great fishing trip today?” Hunter asked. Vince nodded with intense enthusiasm, eager to commit to his father’s plan. He turned to me, a big grin drawn on his innocent face. “I want all three of us to go back to the lake and fish. It’s one of my wishes, and now that Kylie’s back, it can finally come true again!” I looked at Hunter while I held his son’s hand. I turned to Vince, reminding him of what I had said moments ago. “Don’t worry, Vince. From now on, we can go to the lake and fish anytime you want. I’m sorry I was gone. I’ll make it up to you and your Dad. You two are the most important men in my life.” He was grinning at me, his face lit up in happiness. I did not know if the kid understood the depth of my words, but I knew Hunter did. He looked at me with a contented smile, a sweet, satisfied one that melted my heart. “And you’re the most important thing in ours.” *

After the three of us cleaned up the kitchen and prepared for the fishing trip, we got on the road and headed to the lake. I sat in the passenger’s seat, Vince insisting on me sitting beside his father. He was grinning brightly all throughout the journey, very much energized about what the day was to offer now that we were all back together again. “Daddy, can you turn on the radio?” “Yep. Here’s your favorite station.” Hunter reached up and turned on the radio, sneaking a glance my way and smiling like he liked what he saw. Lust raced through me. I’d forgiven him completely. It was a misunderstanding, and he was scared. Of course, he acted like an ass. Anyone would. In a few seconds, Hunter’s songs serenaded the entire car. Unexpected as it was, his playlist included some oldies country love songs. It felt light and renewed. I could hear Vince humming over the chorus, listening to the beautiful song on the speakers. I looked out at the window, enjoying the beauty of the skies and nature all around us. Just when I was indulging over the picturesque view of our hometown, I felt Hunter’s hand touch mine. His warmth tingled my skin, waking me up from the long dream I’d had. He was the vibrant sun that lit up my days, giving me a new reason to live and love life. I turned and stared at his handsome face and found him smiling from ear to ear. Despite his eyes on the road, I could feel his attention on me. The way he held my hand, there was something different about it, something possessive. When we reached the lake, Vince got out of the car with a happy yelp. He ran toward the dock, his arms opened, yelling and scaring the birds and ducks around the dock. We laughed, and Hunter moved to the trunk to get everything out. We walked side by

side, watching the bright sky and the clear lake surrounding us. Vince was beaming at us, waving his hand up in the air for us to come and join him. “Let’s go, slow pokes!” He laughed and bounced on his feet. “Some of us are getting old, thank you very much.” Hunter glanced over at me and released my hand to press his fingers into my lower back. He moved closer, and his hand slid down a little, his fingers brushing over the top of my ass. “I missed you so much. You know how hard it was to be a gentleman last night while you slept in my arms?” I turned to face him and smiled. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been.” He growled, and I laughed, turning to Vince and walking out on the pier with him. As Hunter and Vince began their fishing bonanza, I decided to take pictures of the moment. I did not bother to tell them that I was taking photos. Natural, stolen moments were the best memories captured and recalled back after days passed. Hunter noticed me holding my phone and taking pictures of them. He held his fishing rod up and rested it on the dock, turning his attention to me. “Hey, Miss Paparazzi, who said you could take pictures of us here? That’s illegal.” He stood up and chased me, his hands covered in worm guts and smelling like fish. I pocketed my phone as he approached, raising my hands in front of me to shove him away. He was undaunted, eager to catch me in his arms. “You’re not going anywhere, Miss Kylie Tomms.” I laughed as I ran as fast as I could. He was faster than me, chasing me with a determination that felt almost predatorial. It turned me on far more than it should have. Soon enough, Hunter’s arms surrounded me, successful in arresting me for taking stolen photos. His hands were on my waist, holding me tight so as not to let me go. Vince

was laughing at us, entertained by the childish game we were playing. I turned to face Hunter, my eyes staring at him. “I told you, miss. You’re not going anywhere.” He was smirking at me. I pretended to struggle like I wanted to escape his hold on me. Vince was happily watching us, enjoying the chemistry and sweet nothings the two of us shared. “You’re a tough one to beat, Hunter.” I tickled him on his sides, which gained me an escape route. I victoriously freed myself from his hold, running toward Vince to seek support from him. “I have the super boy with me. You can’t beat us.” I embraced Vince as we watched him walk toward us. He leaped at us, embracing us close to him. Vince began to tickle his Dad, using his tiny fingers to make his father laugh. “Okay, I give up!” Hunter raised his arms as he laughed heartily, retreating from Vince’s secret weapon. “I can’t beat this kid!” We laughter as Hunter cringed. “I told you, Dad. We’re here to protect Kylie, even from each other.” The little boy’s words raced down into my heart, healing me completely. I smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. “Thank you, Vince. You’re my hero.” “All right, you saps. Let’s fish.” Hunter nodded toward the dock and walked back out, leaving us staring at each other. We shared a laugh and followed his lead. The three of us sat on the dock like little kids having fun under the sun. Hunter wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer toward him. I looked into his eyes until I heard a phone camera snap, capturing a photo. I turned my attention toward Vince who was holding his father’s phone. He took a photo of us without me knowing it. Hunter winked at his son, approving his move as a job

well done. Vince showed the photo to us, proud of the product of his new found skill. “You guys look so happy.” He handed me the phone. “Like a family.” “Because we are one.” Hunter smiled down at me and touched my face. “I’m in love with this pretty girl, Vince. What do you think about that?” “I like it, just don’t—” Hunter leaned down and kissed me as Vince groaned in disgust and finished his sentence. “Just don’t kiss her. Jeez, Dad. Don’t you know girls have cooties? Even our Kylie.” I laughed and kissed him again. “You are taking a risk, Mr. Yonnie.” “Yeah, and I’ll do it every day for the rest of my life if it means being with you.” He kissed me again, and the world felt right.

Chapter 37 Hunter I opened my eyes to see Kylie sleeping beside me; her hand placed over my chest. Her head was resting on my arm, locking me to stay beside her until she woke up. I stared at her face, trying to figure out why a woman like her would welcome me back in. She was breathtaking and caused my body to harden as I held her. While her eyes were closed, I took advantage of the situation. I planted a kiss on her forehead, gently caressing her face while she was dreaming. She moved a little and smiled, enjoying the touch of my skin on hers. I watched her long, thick lashes flutter a little every time she moved; her tender, soft lips parted a little while she drifted off again. As much as I wanted to lie in bed all day and watch over my beautiful nymph, I needed to get up and get things going. Careful so as not to wake her, I moved to lift her head and sat up. I grabbed my shirt and went downstairs, taking the initiative to prepare breakfast. The night before was incredible. The three of us spent the whole evening watching movies and eating popcorn on the couch. Kylie dozed off somewhere around the third movie, and I carried her upstairs, lamenting the fact that we wouldn’t be making love. Soon. While I cooked breakfast, I heard someone coming down from the kitchen to sit and watch me cook from the barstool. I turned around and found that it was Kylie. Her hair was all messed up, but she still looked like a goddess.

“Looks like a mother bird created a nest on your head,” I teased her, enjoying her pretty smile almost too much. She rolled her eyes in reply, standing up and walking toward the fridge to get something. She wore a pair of loose, comfy pajamas with a polar bear print all over it. Her childish taste was amusing, but her body was anything but funny. Thick hips and a beautiful ass that caused my body to burn with lust. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her. When she turned around, I smiled and turned my attention back to the stove. “Mind if I watch you cook?” She hopped up onto the counter next to me, her nipples in tight buds that pressed through her tank top. “Not at all.” I reached over and touched her face as I leaned down and kissed her. “You cold or turned on?” “Both?” She smiled and brushed her fingers down the side of my face. “I woke up last night and thought about crawling on top of you.” I ran my hand down her chest and squeezed her ample breast. “You should have. Don’t deny yourself again.” I licked my lips. “Don’t deny me.” “Okay,” she whispered seductively, and I gave the idea of breakfast a second thought. Maybe getting back in bed would be a better way to start the day. “I’ll get the table set.” Before I could object, she hopped down and walked away. I ran my hand over my thick erection and took a shaky breath. Tonight had to be the night, if not sooner. I’d thought about making love to her more times than I cared to admit, even to myself. Now that she was mine again, it was time to make good on my promise to myself. To love her like crazy. I carried on with my task, cooking the brunch we should feast upon for today. Not long after, I managed to finish preparing a simple yet delicious meal for us. Kylie woke

Vince up as soon as I announced that it was all done. Vince was up in a good mood today, his energy vibrant and sunny. I guessed it was the best time to tell them about the plans I had for the day. “Kylie, I talked to Nana yesterday and asked her a favor.” I looked at Vince who knew the plan all along. I had told him yesterday while Kylie was busy catching her first fish. He was totally supportive of the plan, seeing it as a chance for us to get along more. “What is it?” She looked at me with surprise in her eyes and stopped eating. Her brows were crooked with a baffled expression. “I asked for her to watch Vince today. She said she was more than happy to have him around. She missed spending time with him. She even said she would give him more books to read.” I winked at Vince who had a big grin on his face. He loved the idea of giving us some private time alone, as well as the suggestion of visiting Nana again. “Oh, is that so? What do you plan on doing tonight, then?” Her clear blue eyes bore into me, stealing my heart. Her beauty was illuminating, evident despite her messy hair and bare face. She was the most enticing woman I’d ever known, and she was somehow mine. “I plan on taking you out for dinner. No excuses. You’re going.” I was a little arrogant, but she blushed in return, so all was right with the world. “Well, then I guess I’m left with no choice.” She shrugged and smiled at me. I lifted a hand toward Vince, offering him a high five. Thankfully, he didn’t leave me hanging as he received it with a resounding clap. We finished the rest of the meal with Vince continuing to tell Kylie the stories he had read. I heard a work here and there, but it was hard to keep up. My mind was lost in the thought of how to make the night perfect for my girl. I had a lot of making up to do with

her. And it started tonight. * After I had taken Vince to Nana’s house, I returned home to pick Kylie up for our date. I was dressed in a more formal attire, a button down untucked shirt with a pair of black trousers. I entered my house and settled on the couch. As I waited for Kylie, my head drifted in thoughts of the past few weeks. Our relationship was filled with shit and flowers, an odd combination of extremes at its finest. We had a roller coaster ride, and the peaks and lows had become unforgettable and life changing. My day dreaming was soon interrupted by the sound of someone coming down from the stairs. I anticipated Kylie’s entrance as I fixed my gaze toward the living room. My heart stopped as she came into the room. The most beautiful creature I had seen to date walked toward me, her body the stuff of wet dreams, her heart the kind a man could cherish forever. The black dress she wore fit her snuggly, accenting her curves beautifully. It’s like the damn thing was handmade for her. The low cut on her neckline allowed me a peek at her supple breasts. Her figure-hugging dress made her more enticing and captivating. No doubt all the people would turn their heads to snatch a second look on my sensual girl. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She came closer, standing near the couch where I sat. I stood up to meet her. I offered my arm, which she accepted. My eyes were fixated on her, still mesmerized by her beauty.

“You look wonderful tonight.” I took a shallow breath and touched her face before leaning down and kissing her softly. “Have I told you how sorry I am today?” She laughed. “No, but stop saying it. I forgive you. It’s over. Seriously.” I nodded. Her angelic face had minimal makeup, but she looked perfect without it. Only her lips were stained with a light pink gloss, drawing my attention to them and promising so much more than I deserved. “All right. Let’s get out of here.” I took her hand and walked her to the car, staring her down the entire time. We drove across town to the restaurant where we had our first date. As I expected, everyone looked at her with admiring eyes. I was too lucky to have the most magnificent and attractive woman on my arm that night. We were welcomed by the waiter with the menu. After we had picked out our meals, I stared at her with impassioned eyes. I reached for her hand and squeezed it, holding her tight and not wanting to let go. “Kylie.” Her eyes were on mine, reflecting the same passion as mine showed hers. “I can’t thank you enough.” She raised her brows, waiting for my further words. I smiled instead, amused by the beauty she possessed. “For what?” I caressed her hand as I stared back into her eyes. “For coming into our lives. You don’t know how happy Vince and I are. You complete the missing pieces of our hearts.” She blushed once again. I loved how her cheeks turned red. “You don’t have to thank me. You and Vince complete me too. I was lonely before we got together, and when I thought it was over,” she paused, and tears filled her eyes, “I didn’t know what I would do. I think I fell in love with you a long time ago, but having it all come together was a dream. Is a dream.”

“For me too, baby.” I reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. “No more tears, okay? Just good times for us from here on out. I felt her hold my hand tighten, expressing the bliss in her heart through her actions. Our romantic moment was soon interrupted by the waiter’s return, bringing with him the dishes we had ordered. We shared the night with a sumptuous dinner. I laughed at how much she nitpicked the food she ordered, critiquing the little details she found wrong with it. She giggled when I wiped the sauce at the edge of her lips; a simple move just to see her blush again. After dinner, I paid the bill and stood. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s go home.” I offered her my arm as we walked out of the restaurant. The night air rose up around us, and I pulled her close, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. “I love you.” “I love you too.” She got into her side of the car and buckled up as I walked around, stealing glances at her as I did. We drove home with the radio blaring and both of us singing at the top of our lungs, the scene comical at best. She wasn’t only going to be my lover for the rest of my days, but my best friend too. After I had parked the car in the garage, I opened the door for Kylie. She got out and moved toward me, her cheeks pink. “You thinking naughty thoughts?” I smiled and wrapped my arms around her as we stood by the car. “How did you know?” She lifted to her toes and kissed me. “Cause I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I want to touch you, to kiss your skin, to fuck you, baby. I was hoping I wasn’t alone in it.”

“Not at all.” She pressed her breasts against my chest and ran her hands down my back, cupping my ass. “I want you so bad.” “Good. Let’s get inside and let the games begin.” I moved back and gripped her hand to walk into the house. We walked inside together. I followed her as she sat on the couch, resting her feet from the stilettos she wore. Sitting beside her, I felt the urge to stay near While she freed her feet from the strappy heels, she let out a long breath. “Much better.” “Good.” I pulled her feet into my lap, forcing her to turn as I rubbed them. “I know it might sound trite, but I never thought I would let myself love someone after Linda left. Not because she was the best thing that ever happened to me, but because it’s so fucking hard to get over the death of your dreams.” “I understand.” She nodded, her sweet face filled with a million emotions. “But I’ve fallen madly in love with you. I want us to build a life together, to make dreams come true in this house, for you to be my wife and Vince’s mom in the near future. I want all of that.” I leaned over as she slid her hands up the back of my head and kissed me several times in quick succession. “You’ve caused my heart to start beating again. I love you more than words can say, Kylie.” “I love you too, Hunter.” She pulled me down again. Our lips touched, but this time was different. There was something new. The warm kisses of her lips were addictive as always, but I tasted more. Lust had been so delicious in her arms, but tonight I was ready to open myself up to love as well.

Chapter 38 Kylie Hunter’s lips were on mine, kissing me deeply and passionately. I trapped him against me, needing to feel him pressed fully to me. I could feel the hunger in his touch. The heat from his lips as he kissed me was intense enough to weaken my resolve to go slow. He pulled back, smiling at me before he stood and lifted me off of the couch. I locked my gaze on his face and planted small kisses along his jawline as he carried me up to his room. He carried me like a bride. It was the thing I hoped for most. A future with him, and from the sound of things, I would be getting it. Hunter kissed me once again right before he opened the door. He was smiling from ear to ear, his eyes aching with need. As we entered his room, he put me down in bed. I watched him with seductive eyes, waiting for his every move. Just when I thought that I was enticing him, turned out to be the other way around. He began unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off slowly as I watched him from the bed. I couldn’t help but bite my lower lip in desire, wanting to take everything he wore off myself. As the long sleeves fell on the floor, his perfectly muscular chest and stomach caused me to groan. The dark trail of hair that disappeared into his slacks lead to intense pleasure. Where I would never have guessed I could fit his mammoth cock inside of me before, I knew now that it wasn’t only possible, but something I desired to do regularly. I sat up and knelt before him, extending my hand to touch his soft skin, tracing the ridges of his six-pack abs.

He smiled and reached to cup my face. “Damn, you’re beautiful. Inside and out, baby.” I whimpered as my body pulsed, my sex growing wet more and more as we toyed with each other. He held my face as our lips met again. The warmth of his kisses lit up the flames in me like fireworks on the dark skies. It was beautiful and uplifting, making me feel alive. He was all I needed and more than I thought myself worthy of. I remembered our first time together. He was in full control, and I had to submit to his domination, but this time was different. He was vulnerable and emotional. He pulled my dress up as I held onto his waist, caressing his skin slowly with my fingers. His face was flushed, his eyes filled with the emotions of desire and attraction. I sat on my knees with nothing more than my panties, the center of them wet from my arousal. I had nothing to hide from him though. He already knew what he did to me, how he turned me on with nothing more than a look. “Lie back, Kylie.” He pushed my shoulder softly, and I obeyed. Hunter moved on top of me; his body pressed above me as I opened my legs and cradled him in my arms. His lips moved down slowly to my neck, gently caressing my skin as he moved farther and farther down. When he met my breasts, he kneaded one and sucked the other. He kept his eyes on mine as he worshiped me, tugging and licking until I was shaking and whimpering beneath him. “So good,” I whispered and arched my back, pressing more of my nipple into the warmth of his mouth. His eyes were passionate and dazed, filled with romance and love for me. He began to move again down, kissing my body as he lowered his kisses again.

He stopped upon reaching my panties. His mouth was parted as he stared at the damp cloth covering my pussy. I ached to have him consume me, to spread me open and take his time in making me come. I watched as he bit the hem of my panties, pulling them down using his teeth. As he removed them, he glanced up and smiled, running a finger through my folds and pressing it deep inside of me. He licked my clit before blowing cold air over it several times, which cause me to grow even wetter. “That’s it, Kylie. Roll your hips, baby. Fuck yourself with my fingers and tongue.” His words bore into me as I whined and lifted my hips. “Faster. Please.” “Anything you want.” I arched my back in response to him pumping his finger into my wet body, unprepared for the intensity of pleasure I felt. He leaned back down and licked and sucked at my soft skin, rocking me to the core with lust. His eyes were focused on me, watching my every move as he kept on going. The way he looked at me was melting and arousing. There were romance and desire mixed up in a delicious combination evident through his expression. He wanted this as much as I did. He kept going until I felt another finger push its way inside of my throbbing core. His lips began to suck my pussy, licking my clitoris as he fingered me hard and fast. His mouth was skilled; his tongue worked me so fucking good. My orgasm built in my stomach until it ripped through me. “Fuck,” I cried out and jerked beneath him. I released my sweet juices on his tongue, and he licked it up, drinking me like a fountain. “Goddamnit, Kylie. You have no clue how much you turn me on, baby.” He sat up and unbuckled his pants, his giant cock already waiting to be unleashed from its prison. I kept my eyes on his hands as he took his pants off. The big, thick cock stood

upright, twitching deliriously as he pulled his trousers down. He rubbed himself gently on my soft skin, and in one move he was all in for me to feel. He moved back above me and held his shaft, running the thick head of his cock through my wet folds as we both watched. Slowly, he pressed his huge, thick erection into my tight channel. I moaned sweetly, my voice almost unrecognizable from my usual tone. “I want you, Kylie.” He sounded like he was drunk. “Then take me. I already belong to you, Hunter.” I looked at him with passion, my head filled with desire and lust. I kissed his lips and tightened my legs around him. As my breathing increased his deep kisses and passionate thrusting, I could feel how much he loved me. He took his time, and though the sex was lusty and a little rough, everything else about the night was sweet and caring. He arched his back and hit home deep inside of me as I cried out. “Hold on tight. I want to work you over the edge again. I need to hear you come.” “Yes,” I whispered and gripped the back of his neck, pulling up a little so he could gain better access to the depth of my pussy. He sped up, his thrusting getting more fervent as he moved. Heat consumed my entire body. This was the night I had yearned for most of my life. A night where a man would wrap his arms around me and make love to me like he never wanted to let me go: like I was his. I felt that familiar avalanche of pleasure built up inside of me, and I cried out again. This powerful sensation was divine and something I experienced so often with Hunter that I was almost overwhelmed. His movements were deeper and more frantic. He was getting close to release. I could feel his thick cock swelling inside of me. He moaned as he continued to move, his mouth

parted as he pushed his cock deep in one, strenuous push, stretching me to my limits each time. I pulled him to me, kissing him back to silence. I was moaning against his mouth as well, the sensation so fucking powerful. I lost control of myself as I sprayed my cum, showering his big cock with wetness and screaming his name. “I’m going to join you, angel,” he whispered against my lips and rolled his hips, forcing the rest of his dick inside of me. “That’s it.” He arched his back, and the warmth of his release filled my pussy, mixing with my own cum. I vibrated wildly as he pulled out his hard, robust cock out of my core. He was smiling at me as he lay beside me. “Come here, beautiful.” I moved closer and rested my head on his chest. “God, that was so good. I love you so much.” “I love you too, baby.” He kissed my lips one last time before he closed his eyes. I rubbed his chest as I watched him fell asleep, resting from our intense lovemaking. He smiled in his sleep, and I echoed the gesture. I didn’t need anything else but him and Vince. My life was complete.

Chapter 39 Two Weeks Later Hunter “I got a present for you, buddy.” Vince looked at me with big, sparkling eyes, waiting for what I was going to give him. I held the box wrapped up in a cartoon gift wrap and a blue ribbon on its top. He was beaming at me, excited to see what I had been hiding behind my back. He was seated at my desk table, reading some of his new books Nana gave to him since last week. My son had worked hard to accomplish more than the normal kids his age did, reading and learning new things in preparation for the next school year. He spent his summer days enriching his mind with new skills, being the most goal driven kid I had ever met. I was truly grateful to have a son as great as Vince. “Don’t be too excited, kiddo.” I held the box, securing that it was out of his sight. “You’ve got to do something before you claim your gift.” “Gifts are given for free, Daddy. You should have said it was a prize if something needed to be done to get it.” He crossed his arms beneath his chest like an old man. Vince had a point. I was amused by how wise he had grown. “It’s just a simple task, buddy. Come on, don’t be a party pooper.” Garren joined the conversation, taking my side. “Come on, Vince. It’s not that hard of

a task, and you’re going to love this.” “Okay, Daddy. I give up. What is it then?” His eyes were curious to know what I had in mind. I whispered to him my thoughts, telling him the plan I had been thinking for days. After I had told him everything, he looked at me with surprised eyes. I thought for some seconds that he would not like to help me with the scheme, but he drew a smile on his face followed by two thumbs up. “Then here’s your present.” I reached out the box for him to take. He thanked me after taking it from my hold, carefully unwrapping the present from its cover. I watched as his curiosity triggered him, his eyes glistening to see what was inside. His mouth was open in surprise upon seeing what it was. A vast range of coloring materials was in front of him. It was a simple gift, but I knew my son had been dying to have one since we spotted it in the stationary shop. He jumped off of his seat, spreading his arms to hug me in a huge, bear hug. “Thanks, Daddy! It’s the best gift ever! I love you!” He pulled my shirt’s hem as I knelt to kiss his cheek. I stood up and patted his head. “Now start coloring the other books you have not yet finished.” He sat back at my desk table and enjoyed the variety of coloring materials I gave him. I turned to face Garren; he looked impressed. “Wow, I never thought you had good taste. Your gift giving skills seemed to have improved dramatically.” He looked at me with a smirk on his face, making fun of the situation he’d just witnessed. Instead of punching him, I smiled at him and turned my attention back to Vince.

“Well, I guess that’s a fact.” He looked at me with crooked brows, but his smile was still drawn on his face. He must have been expecting a verbal kick in the nuts, but I was a changed man because of my girl. I was no longer the man who had a short temper and shitty mood swings. “Oh. Where’s the Hunter I know? What the fuck happened to my best friend?” he teased, raising his hands as a symbol of retreat. I laughed at him. “I never felt better. A lot has changed since Kylie came into our lives, but it’s all for good. Everything turned out to be perfect, and it’s all thanks to her.” “Well, I agree with that. No one else would put up with your crazy ass.” Garren winked and let out a sigh before turning up to look at me, his expression fading. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for messing with your head, man. I thought Kylie was just one of those girls who would love you today and leave you tomorrow. Forgive me.” I turned at him as he smiled. “Absolutely, man. You were just trying to protect me and Vince.” “Yeah, but she’s a special lady. You keep her close to you and never let her go. A one of a kind woman rarely comes into a man’s life.” I placed my hand on his shoulder, patting him lightly as I expressed my gratitude to my best friend. “You got it, man. I hope someone special comes into your life soon too.” * When lunch time came, I went in search of Garren. “Hey, man, Vince and I are eating at the store with Kylie and her mom. You going to be okay here for a little while?” I stopped by the counter and put a hand on his back.

“Oh, yeah. No problem, man. Have fun.” He smiled over at me before walking toward a customer who walked into the shop. I walked back to my office and stuck my head through the door. “Hey, buddy. Lunch with Kylie and Nana sound like a plan? I thought we would surprise them.” “Yes! I would love that.” He got up and grabbed his stuff, skipping to the car next to me as I chuckled. It was nice to have the little guy so excited about something as simple as having lunch with our future family. As soon as we arrived at the store, Vince got out of the car and ran toward the door. Nana greeted him with a tight hug. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve been around, Vince.” Nana held his face in her aging hands and looked into my son’s eyes. “Tell me how your health is. How are you feeling, little one?” “I am stronger and healthier more than ever, Nana! My blood sugar level is in the normal range, plus I don’t feel pain or sleepy all the time anymore. I can help around the convenience store and do any task you ask me to today too. My dad said that I am ready for my shift!” He looked like a convenience store’s staff reporting to his boss. Kylie walked toward him after attending the last customer in line. “Excellent. Then, give this man something to do, Mom. He’s our best employee, and we need him badly.” Kylie knelt hugged him tightly. Despite the two living under one roof, I was amazed by how much they missed each other for a short span of time. It really felt like we had a new family. A strong one. “Right, then. Kylie, why don’t you take him toward the refreshment section and refill the fridge?” Nana asked. Kylie and Vince nodded in unison, going to the station together with a little too much

excitement. It caused me to laugh. They were the perfect duo, a great team. My smile faded as another thought ran through my head, one that touched my heart deeply. They were like a mother and son, and anyone who didn’t know our story would believe that to be the truth. I turned to Mrs. Tomms, leaning over the pastry stand as I looked at what was in the display. “How are you?” “I’m good. I’m wondering how you are today.” She gave me a knowing smile. “Feeling more like the kind of man I would be proud to call my own?” “I do. I’m sorry for everything. I love Kylie so damn much, and I messed up. I was just scared of loving and losing again, but I should have followed my heart. I hope you’ll forgive me for hurting your daughter.” My heart was racing, but I had to get all this shit off my chest. I needed Kylie’s mother in my corner. She’d soon be my mother, the only one I had. “I do forgive you.” She smiled over at me. “You look happier, more full of life.” I stood up straight, listening to what she might have to say. Kylie’s mother knew her more than anyone else. She had loved her so much. Seeing her daughter loving Vince as if he were her own, she had treated my son as his grandson by blood. “I’m beyond happy and Vince is too, thanks to you and your beautiful daughter. She’s the light of my life.” I slipped my hands into my pockets and moved between my feet as nerves tore up my insides. I wanted her mom to like me, but I had some rebuilding to do for sure. “Well, I thank you too. She’s become a complete woman. I can’t believe how Kylie has changed since you two got back together. I had never seen her this happy and content in her adult life, and it’s because of you and Vince.” I felt my heart swell in my chest as she continued. “She truly loves you. I know you are well aware of that, but I just wanted

to let you know how I see things from my perspective. You don’t know how devastated she was when you two parted ways.” She took a red velvet cupcake from the rack, handing it to me. “But that’s in the past now. We have the future to look forward to.” “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Tomms. You have become a mother figure to me and my son too. I owe you a lot of things, and my relationship with Kylie would not be as strong as it is now without your support.” I was grateful for her unending help. She was truly a part of my new found family. She looked at me with blissful eyes, her smile bright and gleeful. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Hunter. Anyone my daughter loves, I love too. You are like a son to me, and Vince is my grandson whether he likes it or not! You know how much I enjoy reading books with him.” She looked at me and then turned her attention to the two. I followed her gaze, watching Kylie and Vince finish their task together. They shared a high five as they walked toward us. The smiles on their faces were enough to melt my heart. Everything was perfect. “What are you grinning about, Hunter Yonnie?” Kylie asked and stopped in front of me, plucking the red velvet cake from my hand. “See something you like?” “Nope.” I wrapped my arms around her, not caring who was watching. “I don’t see something I like. I see someone I love.” I leaned in and kissed her. The sound of her mother and my son gagging was enough to cause all of us to laugh. My family was officially together, and we’d never break apart again. Not if I had something to say about it.

Epilogue Two Years Later Kylie “So, why did you take the day off? It’s the start of the week, and you’re skipping work?” I asked Hunter as we reached the lake where we fished every week. It had become a regular trip for us to come and visit this scenic spot, being one with nature under the beauty of the bright skies and green trees. He looked at me with a genuine smile, pulling up the car to park it near the dock. “It’s a beautiful day, and I just realized, why not come to the lake and go fishing?” He opened the door and got out of the car. I followed his lead as Vince got out as well, taking the things from the car’s compartment and helping his father to carry the things we brought for the trip. Vince had grown into a responsible, diligent kid with a bright mind and healthy body. He performed exceedingly well in school, excelling in everything he did. He was commended by his teachers for his outstanding intellectual performance and a vast range of skills. He was the kind of kid who everyone found a joy to be with. I still couldn’t believe how time flew by so fast. I could still recall how he ran toward the dock every time we come to this place. Now, he was still the same enthusiastic kid, but he opted to help his dad in carrying stuff. “Thanks, Vince. You’re doing great.” I tried to encourage him.

His big, green eyes were sparkling before me, warming me up like the sun might. “I don’t want you to carry stuff, Kylie. You are the queen, and we need to pamper the Royal Highness.” He bowed before me, pretending to be a loyal knight to his queen. I had patted his back before he ran toward the dock. It was a sunny day today, the beautiful lake clear and radiant under the sun’s rays. My sightseeing was soon stopped by the ring of my phone. As I scrambled through my bag to find it, Hunter walked past me. He smiled at me sweetly as he dropped the tackle box near Vince. I signaled for him to wait as I picked up my phone, finally answering it on the third ring. It was Bailey’s voice that greeted me a good morning. She never called unless it was urgent and important. “Hey, Kylie? Where are you? I need you around here!” Upon hearing her agitated voice, I remembered we had something to do together. “Oh! I forgot to text you, Bailey. Hunter and Vince pulled me out today for a surprise trip here to the lake. I’m sorry, I might not get to stop by today.” I slapped my forehead, realizing that I needed to be there. She might get angry over my absence, but driving back home sounded like hell. “What is it?” Hunter walked toward me. I signed with my hand that it was Bailey, reminding me of a catering gig we needed to attend to. “Come on, I’ll talk to her,” Hunter said and reached for the phone. I handed over the phone, letting him speak to my best friend and business partner. It had been two years since we decided to establish a catering and baking service in town. The business had grown successful due to our hard work and determination. Hunter was always praising us for how great our food was. I could not be more than grateful for his

support. I watched as Hunter walked further, enough to keep distance as he spoke to my best friend. He looked calm as he spoke and even laughed several times over the course of their conversation. I wished I could listen to what he had to say, but he was not willing to share that, signaling for me to stay put at where I stood. Hunter finally strolled back to the dock, approaching me as he continued speaking to Bailey. He handed over the phone to me, giving me thumbs up as I placed my phone over my ear. “Hello, Bailey? I’m really sorry for leaving you to meet up with a customer today.” I hoped for her to calm down and forgive me, but that was a greedy wish. I closed my eyes as I prepared for the worst rants to come, but instead, I heard her laughing over the phone. “It’s okay, Kylie. I can handle things from here. You should thank your guy for being supportive and loving. Anyway, Garren is coming to pick me up and help me out during his break.” I looked at Hunter, baffled by the sudden change of events. I just managed to nod; my head still messed up with things. “Okay, then. Sorry, Bailey. I’ll never do this again.” “It happens. Enjoy your day off.” I could tell that she was smiling on the other end. As the line clicked, I looked at Hunter with a puzzled expression. He shrugged his shoulders, keeping a smirk on his face as we walked toward Vince’s direction. Thankfully, Garren was a trustworthy guy. Not only did he manage the gun shop, but he had stolen Bailey’s heart along the way. It had been a year since we introduced our best friends to one another. Garren seemed to be challenged by Bailey’s tough exterior and unwillingness to give in, no matter how hard he tried. It was cute, and Hunter and I loved watching every second

of it. “Thanks to Garren, Bailey’s in a great mood,” I told Hunter as we walked side by side, my hand clasped in his. He looked at me with a skeptical look, but then a smile spread all over his handsome face. “Yeah, it’s the only time we’re thanking him though, lest he gets a big head over it,” he responded playfully. I could see his eyes twinkling. I melted under his gaze, the stare of the man I had loved with all of my heart. I squeezed his hand, blissful that I got to spend every day of my life beside him. He held my hands and stood before me. His green, beautiful eyes stared at me, melting me under the warmth of his gaze. “You know, I needed to thank someone else important in my life. It’s the woman who gives me chills every time I come close to her.” I looked at him with passionate eyes. Vince stopped fishing to watch us, smiling at his father as he waited for his further words. “Oh, yeah? Someone, I know?” I gave him a cheeky grin. “You know her too well. She’s the reason I get out of bed in the morning, the reason I work so hard every day. She leaves my heart racing and my body so hard it hurts most nights,” he whispered the last part just for me. “You’re too cheesy today, Mr. Romantic.” I kidded, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks. That he felt that way about me was enough to leave me panting for air. I loved him with a fire that would never die. “No, Kylie, I’m serious. Thank you for coming into our lives. Without you, we wouldn’t know how to be this happy. I am forever grateful to you for teaching me how to love again.”

Tears blurred my gaze. “I feel the exactly same about both of you, baby.” He took my hand and pressed it to his chest where his heart was. The beating under my fingers frightened me. His heart was racing. “Feel that, Kylie?” He was smiling at me as I gazed on his chest. “Yes, it’s beating fast. Why?” I wanted him to tell me everything he felt. What the hell was going on? “You’ve changed me into a better man, a better father. You’ve given Vince another chance to feel how it was to have a mother. You gave us a new perspective on life.” “Okay, but tell me what’s going on with your heart. You’re scaring me.” “Nothing to be scared of. I’m just lost to you right now. It’s all good.” He touched the side of my face. “I want you to know that I’ll be right here to protect you, to take care of you, to love you forever, baby.” “Thank you, Hunter. You don’t know how happy I am right now. You’re making me cry.” Tears filled my eyes again, blurring my sight as I stared at the man standing before me. The memories of the past two years flashed before me, reminding me of the things we had been through. Everything was tough and challenging, but we managed to overcome each thing together. Now that he was telling these things to me, it felt like we were on our wedding day. The sun and the lake stood before us, witnessing the beautiful, heartfelt vows we promised to each other. “Well, I don’t plan to make you cry but…” He turned to look at his son, nodding at him as a signal for him to do something. I bit my lower lip and wrinkled my brows, thinking of what was happening around me.

“…Vince and I had a man-to-man conversation last night when you were asleep.” I turned my eyes to watch Vince. He opened the tackle box and scrambled for something inside. When he finally found what he was looking for, he threw it to his father. Hunter caught it. It was a tiny, square box with suede covering it. My heart began to beat faster, my head spinning fast. “Hunter,” I whispered as he moved to his knee and lifted the box up to me. I heard Vince squeal his delight from the back, thrilled with the success of their plan. I spotted Hunter winking at him, approving of his job well done. He stared into my eyes again, his green, captivating eyes stealing my heart. I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks as he spoke, continuing what he had to say. “Ms. Kylie Tomms. You are the most incredible woman in the world. You’ve stood beside Vince as his mother, and you’ve supported me like you were already my wife. You are the most beautiful woman in the world, and you’ve loved me for who I am. I cannot imagine living even a day without you beside me, Kylie.” He took a deep breath as my heart pounded in my chest. “Be my wife. Marry me, baby.” My whole body filled with a joy that I could explain. “Yes!” He put the ring on my finger and stood up, pulling me close and kissing me. “Good. I wasn’t sure what plan B was if you said no.” Vince snickered behind us. I pulled Hunter close and kissed him again. “I would never say no to you. I love you with all of my heart.” “I love you more than you love me, pretty girl.” Vince ran to embrace us, kissing my cheek after he kissed his father’s. “I have the best family in the world!”

I wrapped my arms around both of them and hugged them tightly. “Yes you do, and I’m glad it’s my family too.”

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PRIEST By Claire Adams This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams

Chapter One jace I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in my room at the church where I’d served as parish priest for the past two years. I stared at myself in my black cassock and thought about the days ahead. It wasn’t moving to a new church that troubled me — it was moving forward with a crucial piece of my life no longer intact. I’ve been devout in my faith since I was a child. But as I gazed at my reflection…I was having doubts. I looked at the man in the mirror and instead of seeing Father Jace, I saw the reflection of a frightened little boy. That little boy had been brought to where he was through the love and devotion of a woman — and now she was gone and I was questioning everything about my life. My grandmother used to say, “Be humble and respectful to everyone, whether you are sure they deserve it or not.” She taught me not to judge people too harshly and that if you worked hard and did good things, you would always prosper. When Grandma talked about prospering, she wasn’t talking about money. She taught my brothers and me that prosperity was about your family and your friends. The people that you kept within your inner circle said more about you than anything, according to her, and I had come to believe that myself.

She also always said if you looked hard enough, no matter how far you stray, it was always possible to find a path back into God’s good graces. That one I used to believe without a doubt, but those doubts had started to work their way in. I had strayed from my faith the moment they told me she was dead. I had spent most of my nights since railing against God, instead of praying to Him. My grandmother didn’t need my prayers for her soul. She was the purest soul that ever existed. The irony is if she were still here, she would be the first to tell me to hit my knees and pray hard for forgiveness. I was holding out hope I’d be ready to do that soon, but for the time being, I’d have to fake it. That day, repentance was not on the agenda. I knew that when I had to stand there and helplessly watch them lower her into the ground, instead of rejoicing for her soul, I would be agonizing over the pain in mine. I was angry, but I was not supposed to be. I was a priest, but damn it, I was also human. My grandmother was dead. She was the light that always beckoned me home, no matter how lost I’ve been. I was angry and sad and confused, and no amount of praying would give me the answers to my questions. How was I supposed to find my way any longer? It was just after 12 o’clock. The old church bells rang out, and from my second story room, I could hear the flock of pigeons the bells sent into disarray as they cooed and flapped violently away from the bell tower of the old church. I heard the echo of each slow chime as I made my way through the cavernous inner halls on my way to the vestry. The sounds reverberated off the stones that held the sacred building together and bounced off the stained-glass windows and polished, oak pews. With a heavy heart and a deep ache in my soul, I draped the white stole about my neck in preparation for the mass I was about to say, as was tradition. I begged God to give

me on the last day the garment of immortality that was forfeited by our sinful first parents. I was on autopilot. I was a priest; it was what I did, what I knew to do. The mourners filled the church, and I believed I handled the mass with as much dignity as humanly possible. I had a hard time suppressing my own grief as I watched the broken faces of my brothers in the front pew. I managed to keep it together, and even remain pious in my thoughts, until we reached the cemetery. When I stepped out of the black car into the brilliant sunlight and looked around at the vibrant colors of spring that surrounded me, my anger returned with a vengeance. My grandmother was dead and the sun was offensively bright and cheerful. It was as if God and the elements were conspiring to show me that the world would go on just fine without her. It shouldn’t, and that’s why I was so angry. As far as I was concerned, everything should be as dark and gray as my emotions were. The weather should have been damp and cold, and the birds should not have been singing in the trees overhead. I walked through the cemetery like a silhouette of myself. I wished I was as insubstantial as the shadows. Shadows don’t have to feel the tangle of emotions that were twisting around in my gut. I stood near the freshly dug hole and waited for the coffin to arrive. I was no longer apologetic to my Father in Heaven. I was pissed. ****** “Touching service, Father,” a young congregate said to me as she shook my hand after the funeral. I forced a smile and nodded at her. “My condolences for your loss, Father. Your grandmother was a great lady,” the next one told me as he shook my hand.

“We’ll all miss her, Father…” It went on and on. My head felt like it might literally explode and shoot off my shoulders before the last member of the congregation shook my hand and headed for their car. Finally, I was alone with my grandmother and my brothers. “How are you doing, Jace?” My brother Max was at my side. He was the oldest and the one that would be counted on to hold us together with Grandma gone. “I’ve been better,” I said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. “How about you?” My other brother, Ryan, walked up as we talked. “I’m hanging in there. I’m not sure what to do without her. She will be sorely missed.” I had no doubts Max would miss her, but he’d been independent since we were taken from the house of horrors that was our life and placed with Grandmother when he was 10. I was six at the time, and Ryan was only six months. Ryan’s eyes and face were swollen and red. He still lived with Grandmother, and I had no doubts her death would leave the biggest void in his life. She coddled him a little too much, and at 25, he was more dependent on her than a man really had a right to be. “Hey,” he said with a chin tilt. Even at a funeral he was still clinging to the cool-guy, motorcycle stud stereotype. I opened my arms and it all fell away. He folded into them and sought the strength of his big brother and priest. I could at least be one of those for him. As soon as I closed my arms around him, his shoulders began to shake and he unloaded the grief that he’d been trying so hard to hold back. “I know that I’m not supposed to think like this,” he said between sobs. “But I’m so angry, Jace. We all still needed her. Why does God let things like this happen? She was nothing but good. Why does he take the good ones so soon?” Ryan, out of all of us, had struggled with his faith the most. It was the first time I

didn’t have answers for him. I’d been asking those questions myself. “I wish I knew, Ryan. All we can do now is have faith and trust that she’s at peace and we’ll see her again someday.” Such a priest-like thing to say…but I was at a loss. My brother seemed to accept it. He nodded against my shoulder and then pulled back and looked at my face. His green eyes were so much like mine, and his sandy-blond hair fell down across his forehead the same way mine did when it got too long. He was a younger version of me, but even priest compared to biker, he was a more innocent version. Ryan hadn’t known our parents long enough for the scars to take hold of him. Grandmother was all he’d ever known as a caregiver, and she did a stellar job. “I have to take off,” Max said. “I have a meeting across town at four. Maybe we can all have lunch Sunday?” “If it’s a late lunch,” I said. “I’ll be serving my first mass at St. Luke’s on Sunday.” “Oh, that’s right. You’re moving to Lexington tomorrow, I almost forgot. At least it’s only 30 minutes away.” “Yeah, I’ll still see you guys a lot. Let’s plan on three for lunch at Mike and Patty’s. Will that work for you, Ryan?” My little brother looked like I’d pulled him out from under the water as he refocused his attention. “Mike and Patty’s at three. I’ll be there.” I hugged them both again and watched them go before I made my way back to the car the church provided for me. I climbed into the backseat and the driver said, “Back to the church, Father?” “Yes. Actually, if you don’t mind, Mitch, can we swing by Albert’s Grocery on the way?” ******

Two hours after my grandmother’s earthly body was lowered into the ground, I sat in my upstairs room at St. Anthony’s parish, still in my cassock and scarf, sipping scotch out of the bottle. I’d gone into Albert’s Grocery under the guise of buying my specialty tea. The driver had stayed in the car, so it was easy to slip the bottle of scotch into my reusable bag and take it through the self-check-out. A priest buying a bottle of scotch might cause some talk. A priest sitting alone in his room drinking scotch was not only pathetic…he was destined to be tortured by guilt. At that point, I was willing to deal with the consequences when they arose. Being numb had its benefits.

Chapter Two Daphne As I walked into my new apartment with my arms laden with groceries, my phone began to ring. I kicked the door closed behind me and rushed to dump the bags on the table. I had just left work; it was my second day at a new job, in a new town. I was afraid it was my boss. I was a little overwhelmed, and I didn’t doubt that I’d forgotten to sign out on the register, or something silly like that. I finally fished the phone out of my work apron and became instantly sick to my stomach. It was my father. I shuddered as I answered. I would have just ignored it, but this was the fourth time he’d called that day, and I hadn’t answered the other three. He was bound to keep calling until he passed out if I didn’t pick up at least once. “Dad, you have to stop this. You’re not supposed to be calling me.” “What do you mean I’m ‘not supposed’ to call you? I’m your father. You’re my baby girl. Daphne, come home, baby. I need you!” His words were slurred, and I could tell he’d probably been drinking all day. He makes me nauseous, especially when he’s drunk. “I’m not coming home. I have a restraining order, remember? Stop calling me, Dad, or I’ll have to notify the authorities.” “Notify the authorities? When did you get to be such a little snot face? I’m your father, Daffy!” I hate when he calls me that, and he knows it. “Please, baby. Daddy’s sick.

I need you.” Daddy’s sick; how many times had I heard that before? “Dad, I’m going to hang up now. When you sober up, you’ll remember why you shouldn’t be calling me. I hope you’ve been going to see your counselor.” “I don’t need a shrink. I need my Daffy.” His voice got low then, and I could tell he was letting his mind wander as he said, “Do you remember the good times we used to have together, baby girl?” I hung up and dropped the phone on the counter. My hands were shaking, and I thought I might have to throw up. I moved to get away from him. I was probably going to have to change my phone number—again. I pulled off the apron and picked up my purse and keys. I needed to get out of there. I needed to go for a walk…clear my head…have a beer, maybe—anything to get my mind off of him. ****** It was after eight p.m. on a weekday evening and people still littered the streets. Couples mostly—something I was depressingly aware I had never been a part of at the ripe old age of 22. They were all dressed up on their way to eat at a nice restaurant or meet friends for a drink at a bar. I walked in their midst, completely alone in the crowd. I desperately needed something different in my life besides work and church. Bethany, the friend who had gotten me my job and helped me find my apartment, was always trying to get me to go out. Even when I lived in Boston, she never gave up on trying to set me up with one of her boyfriend’s friends. In Boston, there was definitely no room in my life for socializing. Now that I was out of there and I had plenty of room for it,

I had no idea how to go about it. I turned down one of the main streets downtown and walked past a few bars that looked too “yuppie” or “hip.” I wasn’t in the mood to mingle with the business crowd; besides, I didn’t fit in. I stopped and looked up at the pink neon sign of a place called After Hours. It looked and sounded like just what I needed. I pushed through the door and came face to face with a tattooed, bald, and muscled up God in a black t-shirt that said “Security” in bold, yellow letters. He looked me up and down and said, “I’ll need to see your I.D.” I handed it to him and he used a flashlight to scrutinize it. Finally satisfied that although I only looked 18, I was in fact 22, he handed it back and said, “Have fun.” I waited until my eyes adjusted to the subdued light and looked around. The place wasn’t exactly hopping, and I was happy about that. There was a group of suits sitting on one side on a set of low, brown leather couches. A few couples and groups of women and men were scattered throughout at tables and in front of the bar that glowed with the same pink hue the sign out front had. With a deep breath, I smoothed down my black skirt and ventured towards the bar. I took a seat on an empty stool and tucked my pleated, A-line skirt underneath my thighs. I reached for a cocktail menu and started reading through it. I was not really a drinker; I had no idea what to order. The bartender was suddenly hovering over me. I looked up at another large man; this one had on a white t-shirt with a V-neck that showed his chest was as tattooed as his arms and neck. In spite of all the ink, he had kind eyes and wavy brown hair that gave him an innocent look. He was probably a serial killer. I’m a horrible judge of character. “What’ll it be?”

“Um…something sweet with one of those pretty umbrellas on top,” I said. I realized as soon as I said it how stupid it sounded. The bartender smiled and said, “Coming right up.” The guy next to me was still laughing when he was gone. I looked at him and my breath caught in my throat. This one had on a green t-shirt and his arms were completely ink free, but incredibly sexy and muscular. His eyes were as dark green as his shirt and his sandy blond hair had that just-rolled-out-of-bed look that made a girl want to rake her fingers through it. I’d planned on chastising him for laughing at a stranger, but I couldn’t find my words. “I’m sorry,” he said in a smooth voice that I instantly knew I could listen to all day. “I didn’t mean to laugh.” “But you did, anyways.” “I did. I’m sorry.” He laughed again. “You’re apologizing, but you’re still laughing.” He looked directly at me and everything inside of me turned to hot liquid. “I’m sorry. You just sounded like you were ordering something from an ice cream truck instead of a bar.” “I suppose you ordered a scotch neat,” I said, lowering my voice into a mock baritone. He laughed again. “Almost, only I asked for it on the rocks.” I caught the little slur in his words that time. He’d already had a few. Suddenly, I was reminded of my father. The bartender sat my pink drink down in front of me; I passed him a twenty and picked the drink up. The hot, drunk guy tried to slide my twenty back to me. “I got it,” he said.

“No, you do not. I can pay for my own drinks, thank you!” I looked at the bartender and said, “Keep the change.” Then I picked up my drink and carried it as far away from the laughing man as I could get. I tucked myself into a booth in the back where I could drink, watch people, and hopefully stay invisible. The drink was delicious. I have no idea what it was, but it took me about three minutes to suck the entire thing down through a straw. I was about to try and get the waitress’s attention when suddenly I looked up into those jade eyes. He was holding a golden liquid in one hand and a pink one in the other. “It’s an apology drink,” he said. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’ve already forgotten the whole thing.” He sat down. I scooted away from him. He sat the drink down in front of me. “I’m really sorry. It’s nice to know that not everyone practically lives in a bar.” I was suddenly sweating. I never sweat. I didn’t know if it was the pink drink or the hot guy. Either way, it made me thirsty. I started sucking on the straw again. Hot guy downed his drink without taking his eyes off of me. I could feel the heat from them boring into my skin. When I sucked down to the bottom of my glass he grinned and signaled the waitress. He had dimples…of course. “I think I’ve had enough, thank you.” “Okay,” he said. When the waitress came over he ordered another scotch on the rocks. He turned to me then and I watched his full lips as he said, “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want?” Yes, I want to kiss those lips… Oh my God! What am I thinking? I don’t know this man. “Maybe one more,” I said. He ordered me a raspberry Cosmopolitan. I at least knew what I was drinking.

He turned to me then, and that gentle motion let me get a whiff of his subtle cologne. It was masculine and kind of earthy. It only served to add to his appeal. After two of those pink drinks, I was feeling bold and let myself slide a little closer to him in the booth. He showed me his dimples again and slipped his arm around me. What the hell am I doing? God, if his warm, muscular arm didn’t feel good on my back. His big hand gripped my shoulder and my bare thigh was touching his blue jeans under the table. I don’t do this. I’ve never done this. Jesus Christ, I’m going to have so much to confess this week! The waitress came back with our drinks. He paid for them and then he picked up his glass and held it up. “To us,” he said. He was really slurring his words now. I was buzzed enough that he no longer made me remember my father, however. Instead, I focused once again on his sexy lips and wondered what they would taste like. “To us,” I said with a smile. I took out the straw and downed the drink like a shot. Each one tasted better than the last. “So, why is a pretty girl in a place like this all alone?” “Having a rough day,” I said. My words were slurring as much as his now. He nodded. “I can relate to that.” “What’s got your goat?” I asked him. He laughed. “You’re laughing at me again?” “You’re just really cute. It’s just been a really bad week at work,” he said. “Oh yeah, me, too. What do you do?” He looked like he was thinking about it. Even drunk, I knew if you were telling the truth, you didn’t have to think about it. Finally, he said, “I do my best to help people…

most of the time. This week, things haven’t really gone my way. What do you do?” “I’m a waitress,” I said. “Speaking of, I could use another drink.” He smiled and motioned to the waitress with two fingers. In minutes, she brought us each another drink. I tried to pull out my money but he beat me to it again. “Thank you,” I told him. “I need to pee.” He chuckled and stood up out of the booth. I think he stood up too quickly. His body swayed, and he caught himself on the table. Then, as if he were steady as a rock, he held his hand out to me. I reluctantly took it. I was afraid if I touched him, I would want more. I wasn’t wrong. His hands were warm and strong. I wanted to kiss him. My mouth went completely dry, and I’m sure my face was as red as it was hot. I dropped his hand and headed for the ladies room. I somehow managed to get my underwear down and pee and then I made it to the sink to wash my hands. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for not falling on my face when I walked out of the bathroom and some chick body slammed into me. “What the fuck?” My sainted mother would be turning over in her grave. “Jeez, chill out. It was an accident; I’m sorry.” “You don’t sound sorry.” I don’t know what happened to me—my mouth just wouldn’t quit. I am the furthest thing from a fighter that ever lived. “Well, maybe I’m not now, if you’re gonna be a bitch about it.” “Who are you calling a bitch, you ghetto tramp?” Dear God…who am I? I’m pretty sure she was about to swing her fist at me when suddenly, my green-eyed savior was at my side. He looked at the ghetto girl and said, “I’m sorry about that. She had a terrible day. She’s usually a real sweetheart, aren’t, you dear?” I shot him a look and actually thought about telling him to screw off…but I realized

that was the drunk in me talking and I was about to get my ass kicked. “He’s right. I’m sorry I took it out on you.” She snorted and walked away. I flipped her off behind her back. My “protector” grabbed my hand and folded my finger down. “I’m headed home. Maybe you should walk with me. You seem like you could use some air.” “I’m fine,” I protested, heading back to the booth. Before I could stop myself, I barreled into the waitress with a full tray of drinks and the crash that followed caught the attention of the entire bar. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!” Someone was at my elbow and I thought it was the green-eyed God. It turns out it was the bartender and his friend, Mr. Security. “You need to leave, Miss.” “Me?” I’d never been kicked out of anywhere in my life. “Really?” “Yes, really. You’re cut off. I’ll call you a cab.” “I can call my own cab!” I tried to storm out in a manner befitting a bad-ass who was getting kicked out of a bar. It was hard when you had to grab onto tables in order to walk in a straight line. As soon as I pushed through the doors and tasted the fresh air, I felt sick. I doubled over and suddenly felt an arm slip through mine. “Walk with me?” he said. I looked up into his green eyes and suddenly forgot my nausea. “Sure,” I said. I would probably regret it in the morning…or before.

Chapter Three Jace I moved to Lexington on Saturday and had to attend church and be introduced to the congregation on Sunday. I woke up Sunday morning with a raging hangover because I drank an entire bottle of scotch Saturday night. My intentions had been pure; I was only going to have one drink. But one drink led to the other, and another. The truth be told, the only reason I stopped drinking was because I ran out. I thought about going out for more, but I was too drunk—and thank God I’d had the sense to realize that. Imagine the headlines: “New Priest Arrested for Public Intoxication.” Grandmother would be rolling over in her grave. That’s not to mention what the good Lord was thinking of me. I still felt as if I was strong in my faith. I definitely had the same fear of God that I’d had before. And of course, I still loved, God even though I was still angry with him. I just hoped He still loved me. So Sunday morning, I woke up riding waves of nausea that would have rivaled a tsunami. Miserable didn’t describe the feelings that were tearing through my body. My head hurt so badly that my brain felt as if it would swell beyond my skull’s capacity and cause it to explode. I was so dehydrated that my mouth actually hurt. It was the only thing that got me out of bed that day or I may have skipped mass and called in sick. I had to have a drink of water. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and my feet

were met with a cold, sticky floor. I looked down and realized I’d left the bottle on the floor and the half an inch or so of liquor left had seeped out and I was stepping in it. I was a pathetic mess; if my grandmother could have seen me, she would have been so ashamed. I finally made it to the kitchen for a bottle of water and then to the shower. After my shower and a handful of aspirin, I was feeling better. Not normal, but better. I dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt. I made sure my shoes were shiny and my hair was combed respectfully. I used deodorant and mouthwash, and when I walked into the vestry at St. Luke’s, I almost felt as if I belonged there. I at least looked the part. I was met by the priest who had been caring for the parish temporarily until I was put in place—Father Byrnes. The other priest had just taken off, and as far as I knew, no one knew where he had gone. I wondered briefly if his grandmother died, then I said a prayer for him and one for me, too. “We are so happy to have you here, Father Jace.” Father Byrnes was a much older man and his hands felt like parchment paper as he took one of mine between them. “Thank you, Father Byrne. I’m happy to be here.” I wasn’t lying. I’d really been excited to be a part of this parish. I’d heard great things about the people there and that they had an active congregation, which I was looking forward to. The church held dinners and dances to raise funds for parishioners in need. Whatever was leftover was given to the Children’s Hospital. That hospital would be a regular stop for me every week once I took over the parish. I loved kids, so I was looking forward to that, as well. But, then my grandmother died and I lost my mind…and God help me, I couldn’t stop drinking. I went through the motions of mass that Sunday with Father Byrne, and then I tolerated the meet and greet with the congregation afterward. They’d surprised me with a potluck, which was good, I guess. I couldn’t really remember the last time I’d eaten anything of substance.

It was excruciating, however, because as nice as everyone was and as blessed as I knew I was to be there, all I wanted to do was go back to my dark apartment and drink myself into another stupor. I was so ashamed. Monday’s hangover wasn’t quite as bad as Sunday’s, and by Tuesday, I was actually getting good at maintaining my blood alcohol level high enough to keep from getting the hangover at all. The guilt ate away at me each time I began to sober up, so I made sure that I didn’t. I knew I had to stop. I should have called my brother, Father Byrne, or my Bishop in Boston. But each time I reached for the phone, I thought about the shame I was about to bring on myself and I chose instead to keep my binge a secret and deal with the Lord oneon-one about it. I agreed to sit in for Father Byrne at confession on Wednesday…and then on Thursday it would be my turn to confess and I would have to make some hard decisions about what I was willing to say out loud. But today it was Tuesday, so I decided to think about it later. I wasn’t worried that I’d suddenly become an alcoholic. Before all of this, a glass of wine once a week was the most I ever drank. I didn’t crave alcohol and I didn’t even particularly like it. There was just something about my grandmother’s death that triggered old memories from when I was a kid…bad memories that I’d suppressed for a very long time. Grandma let us talk about them as much as we needed to, but things were so warm, comfortable, and safe living with her that we could soon put those feelings in a box and seal them. We didn’t have to take them out and look at them unless we chose to. I never chose to, but since Grandma died, I was forced to. The alcohol helped me forget and it also numbed the pain that came with losing her. I had so much repenting to

do…on Thursday, but not until then. I was out of scotch. I pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and ran my fingers through my hair. Once I slipped on my black, leather boots I checked my reflection. There was no sign on my forehead that said “Fallen Priest.” I looked like any other 31-year-old guy. I grabbed my keys and went in search of a dark, quiet bar.

Chapter Four Daphne I held onto his arm as we walked. The night air was cool and refreshing, and I think I may have been sobering up…a little bit. We hadn’t walked far before he stopped at a twostory house that looked like it had been converted into walk-up apartments. “This is me,” he said. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” “Oh no! I don’t…I mean, I…” I was suddenly afraid that “coffee” didn’t mean “coffee.” I don’t do random hook-ups in bars, but I was just drunk enough not to trust myself not to accept if he offered. He laughed. “Coffee is the only thing on my mind,” he said. “Trust me.” When he looked at me with those soft, warm, green eyes, I did trust him. It might also be the four drinks on an empty stomach. “Okay, maybe a coffee before I head home.” Famous last words. “Good,” he said, unlocking the bottom door. He let us in and we held onto each other and the wall as we made our way up the stairs to the second floor. The heat and feel of his body on the narrow staircase overwhelmed all of my senses. If I’d had any left, I would have gone home right then. When he let go of my arm to unlock his apartment door, I was trembling.

He pushed the door open and said, “Welcome to my humble abode. Excuse the mess; I’m just moving in.” I stepped inside and looked around. There were boxes everywhere, but it wasn’t really a mess. It was more of an organized chaos. “Where are you moving in from?” “Boston,” he said, making his way to the small, open kitchen. I watched him make a pot of coffee. He filled out his jeans so nicely. “Oh,” I said, not telling him I’d just moved from Boston, too. The next obvious question would be why and I was definitely not going to discuss that with a stranger. “I have to pee.” That was the second time I’d spoken to this man about my bladder. That was another good reason for me to never drink again. He laughed. I really liked the sound of it. I also loved the dimples and the little laugh lines around his eyes. “Follow me,” he said. He led me a few steps down a short hall and we turned into what I could only assume was his bedroom. The bathroom was through the bedroom. Strange set up — and convenient if you were trying to get into a drunken girl’s pants. I narrowed my eyes to let him know I was onto him. Unfortunately, my bladder was too full to back out. I wobbled into the bathroom and closed the door. There were still boxes on the counter in there, too. I thought about snooping through them, but he was probably still standing there waiting for me. I didn’t want to get caught. I locked the door and pulled up my skirt. I started to sit down and suddenly remembered my panties. I pulled those down and sat. I did my business, washed my hands, and found the hot guy standing in the same spot waiting for me. I’m not sure why, but I suddenly blurted out, “I don’t usually drink!”

He smiled knowingly and stepped towards me. “Neither do I,” he said. He was really close. Too close…yet, I didn’t want him to back up…not even a little bit. “I don’t usually do this, either.” Before I could respond, he’d dipped his head down and our lips connected. He kissed me, tentatively at first, like he was waiting for me to pull away, or slap him. I didn’t do either. The feel of his lips as they brushed across mine sent little jolts of electricity through me and started a fire in my belly. I did just the opposite of pulling away — I leaned into it and kissed him back. His lips were soft and full and tasted like sweet alcohol. I wanted more. I let my lips fall open and I felt his tongue begin to probe my mouth. He tasted and licked and even sucked on my tongue as I melted into him. His strong arms were the only thing holding me up as my already woozy head became intoxicated by the touch and smell and taste of him. When he pulled back to catch his breath and he looked at my face, I could see another chance for me to protest in his eyes. I knew that I should. But I didn’t want to. I wanted him. I’d never felt the kind of passion and need swelling up inside of me that I felt that night. I moved back towards him, and this time when our lips met, there was nothing at all tentative about it. This was a hot, passionate kiss. His hands were no longer content to sit chastely on my waist. They were roaming the curves of my body causing me to quiver all over. I wanted to feel them on my bare skin. I wanted to feel him. I briefly wondered if I should tell him I was a virgin, but as his hands covered my breasts and his fingers began to massage my nipples through my shirt, all rational thought became a thing of the past. The decision to walk out of there without

my virginity was as good as cemented. He ran his hands up to my face and cupped it. Then he pulled out of the kiss and drew his thumb across my lips, tracing the outline. It was intimate and sweet and they parted again of their own accord, a desperate sign of my desire. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t do this; I’ve never done this. I was just winging it. My body was driving me at that point. It was instinct. He actually whimpered when I took his thumb between my lips. I brought my hand up and pressed the rest of his fingers to my lips and starting with the little one, I pressed each slowly against my mouth and kissed it, letting my mouth fall open a bit more with each one. He was watching me in a drunken state of awe, silent. When I finished with his fingers, I pressed his open palm to my lips and drew them down to his wrist. I drew my tongue down along his arm and he moaned. His head dropped back and closed his eyes. I was encouraged, so I kept going. I licked back up the hard muscle of his arm until I reached his hand again. I took his index finger into my mouth and I sucked on it and then bit down very gently. His chest was heaving against me as I gave his wrist one last kiss and let go. He opened his eyes and locked them into mine. “Dear God…” It was said in a reverent whisper, and it caused my entire body to convulse. I had my hands pressed into his hard chest now, and he was still staring at me. His eyes were a mixture of lust, desire, and something else that I couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe it was because I was drunk…maybe because I knew I would regret it myself…but he looked a little bit guilty. I fleetingly wondered if he was married, but the thought was gone as he pulled me into him again and kissed me hungrily. Kissed may not even be the right word. It was more like possession. He possessed my mouth and devoured it as I willingly gave myself over to him.

I boldly slid my hands underneath his t-shirt as we kissed and slowly moved it up his body. When it got to his arms, he broke the kiss to pull it off over his head. The light from the moon was shining in through the window, and he looked like he should be posing for the cover of a romance novel. His body was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Every muscle was hard and defined, like he’d been sculpted out of concrete. I let my hands roam across his chest, and my fingers happily traced the taut contours all the way down to the hard ripples of his abdomen. “You’re beautiful,” I breathed out before I even realized I was speaking. He smiled, proving my point. He reached up and ran his hands through my long, blonde hair. Then he put his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “No, you’re the one who is beautiful.” The feel of his warm breath and the vibrations of his voice sent goosebumps racing down my arms and my spine. I stood on my tip toes and kissed him again. This kiss was even harder and more urgent. His teeth scraped along the outside of my bottom lip, and I whimpered. He slid his hands down my sides then and around behind me, placing one on each cheek of my round butt, squeezing and massaging lightly through my skirt. I was on auto-pilot. I reached up and unhooked the button on the side of it. It slid down and he moved his warm hands, letting it fall to the floor around my ankles. I gasped when I felt the heat of his hands on my waist underneath my blouse. He pushed it up and I pulled back slightly and raised my arms so that he could get it over my head. His eyes roamed my body then, like a man who had been stranded alone on an island…or imprisoned only with other men. It was like I was the first woman he’d laid eyes on in quite some time.

Chapter Five Daphne He took a deep breath and once again he said, “Beautiful.” If he kept saying it like that, with that look in his eyes, I might just believe it. His hands went to the waistband of his jeans and it was my turn to watch as he unbuttoned them and let them slide to the floor. When neither of us had anything on but underwear, he lay back on the bed, pulling me down with him. I landed on top, and running on pure instinct once again, I swung one leg over his torso so that I was straddling him. That was when I felt his hard cock pressing through his boxers and into my upper thigh. I felt a tickle of anxiety, or maybe anticipation, in my core. The dampness between my legs that had soaked through my panties caused me to slide against his hard thigh. His hands were on my waist and he moved them up and down until he finally let them land on my back. I leaned down to kiss him. My hair fell forward and created a soft canopy for us as we kissed. I felt his fingers unhook the clasp on the back of my bra. I sat up on top of him as it fell forward and my breasts shook free. He reached up and took my breasts in his hands again, with a look of awe. He squeezed and massaged them, letting his thumbs trace a path around my nipples. “Gosh…” he whispered before raising the top part of his body up off the bed and taking one of them into his mouth.

“Oh my…” Things inside my head were exploding and the moisture between my legs was getting out of hand. He sucked and licked one breast for what seemed like an eternity before moving his mouth over and taking the other in between his lips. I was grinding myself down against his hard cock shamelessly. I’d never wanted anything as much in my life as I wanted that man. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe just the idea of taking a risk for a change, doing something different. Whatever it was, there was no turning back now. When he moved from my breast, I bent and caught his lips with mine. I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and licked and nipped at it. I felt him shudder underneath me, and that got me more turned on. His hands were back on my breasts, manipulating my nipples and making me want to scream out in ecstasy. I drew my lips down the side of his face and to his neck. I lapped at his defined collarbone with my tongue. His hands were on the backs of my thighs, rubbing them up and down, letting his hands run up and over the curve of my ass each time. The feel of him touching my naked body spurred me on. I slowly raked my tongue down his chest, lapping along the smooth, hard lines of his skin. I still didn’t know what I was doing; I was moving forward on instinct alone. I licked my way down to his stomach and as my head dipped lower, his hands came up and rested on my shoulders. He slid them around to my upper back and began to massage me as I kissed and licked my way down his body. When my lips met the waistband of his boxers, I didn’t even have to ask. His hands were at the elastic and he pushed them down quickly…out of my way. I watched with lust coiling in my belly as his long, thick cock sprang free. He was so hard he was throbbing with each beat of his heart. I gently brushed my fingers across it, and with his primal-sounding moan, an

overwhelming desire to hold it and feel it throb and pulse in my hand came over me. I grabbed it, wrapped my hand all the way around it, and squeezed gently. He let out another long, deep moan that didn’t sound human as I started to move my hand up and down the length of him, stroking him gently. Surprising myself, I bent my head down even lower and I took him into my mouth. I held onto the base and continued to stroke him with my hand as I took the head of his cock in and out of my wet mouth. It was a strange feeling, but beautiful, all at the same time. “Oh, dear God…” he gasped, looking down at me. I smiled up at him with my mouth full of his cock. He offered a weak smile back and then let his head fall back into the pillows piled on the bed behind him. As I sucked and licked my way up and down his hard cock, he groaned, moaned, and made sexy little noises. He wrapped his hands up in my hair and used it to guide me to where he wanted to feel my lips. He suddenly pulled harder and brought his hips up off the bed. He wanted me to go faster, so I obliged. As I moved my head up and down on him, I let my tongue slide along the underside of his shaft. He was so hard and hot against my lips and the taste of his flesh was like an aphrodisiac. I was out of my mind with lust. I sucked him until I felt him tug on my hair and pull me off of him. My lips released him with a “pop” and they felt swollen and full. I saw his eyes fall to them as he sat all the way up and pressed his into mine. I fell forward against his chest. God, he felt good. I was slightly disappointed at first when he broke the kiss to lift me up off of him and roll me onto my back…but the feeling didn’t last long. He grinned down at me and my guts twisted into a desperate knot. Then, he bent down and pressed a kiss between my breasts. I sighed as he brought the kiss up to my right breast. He cupped it in one hand as the other rested on my shoulder.

This time, he wasn’t as shy about it, and I wasn’t as quiet as I should have been. I was moaning and writhing all over the bed as he drew a nipple in between his lips. He had the other breast in his hand and was running his fingers along the outside of it as he licked and tasted the flesh all around them. It was erotic to lay here and watch him. A sigh escaped my mouth as I wrapped my arms around his head and drew his face in tighter to my chest. I pressed my face into his hair and breathed in his scent. I felt his hands go to the waistband of my panties and begin to push them down. I lifted my hips and he sat up to pull them down. He spent some time again gazing down at me like he was looking at something precious. I raised my hips slightly and let my legs part so that he could see how badly I wanted him. He smiled seductively at me and I felt his hand go between my legs. He let his fingers glide along the outside of my pussy and then with a low growl, I felt one of his fingers enter me. “Oh, Jesus…” he breathed out before sliding in another. He crooked one, letting it rub against a spot that would cause me to do anything for him and he moved them in and out. I had my legs open wide, silently begging for more. I wanted to scream out for it, but I wasn’t sure if that was acceptable behavior or not. I’ve just never, ever felt anything like what he was doing to me, and if that weren’t enough, each time I opened my eyes, I saw his gorgeous face and body above me. I wanted to cry when I felt his fingers leave me, but then I felt his sexy thighs glide against mine as he moved down further, situating himself between my parted legs. He pressed a kiss to the soft, sensitive part on the inside and one kiss and lick at a time, his face made its way up to my pussy. I felt his tongue glide across my tender, swollen lips and then heard him whisper, “So

wet, and so sweet.” He let it slide in between them and I cried out — I thought his fingers were magic, but I’d never felt anything so intense. He began licking up and down, and letting his tongue slide in and out, lapping up the juices that had been flowing for him all night. His hands were up on my chest, still massaging my breasts and tweaking my nipples. I was wriggling underneath him like I was trying to get away, but it was the last thing I wanted to do. I reached down and wrapped my fingers up in his hair. Lifting my hips up off the bed, I pushed his head down and ground myself against his face. I groaned as he let his tongue flicker against my clit, and then I actually let out a little scream as he sucked it in between his lips and began to tongue it furiously. “Oh!” He lifted his head and looked at my face. “You like that?” “Oh, yes! It feels so good! Don’t stop!” He grinned and went back to what he was doing. He used the sides of his teeth to scrape against the swollen nub. We’d both gotten past our shyness as we’d found our rhythm. He parted me open with his fingers and drew his entire mouth down my center before he let his tongue snake up inside of me. “Oh, oh,” I moaned as I gripped his face and pressed him harder against me. “More!” He pushed his tongue in as deep as it would go. “Deeper!” I couldn’t believe those words came out of my mouth, but there was no time to worry about that. It seemed to excite him further. He made a little growling noise and slipped his hands underneath my hips to hold me tightly in place as he licked and sucked and nibbled on my clit. I was out of my mind with lust and need. “Oh!” He didn’t stop. He sucked harder and licked wilder and just as I was teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm, he bit

down on my clit…gently, but enough to send me hurtling through space. It was a feeling that I knew I would never forget even if I lived another hundred years. He waited until I was completely finished and my body was quivering and quaking from head to toe, to move away. When he did, he let out a sexy little moan and pulled himself up so he was right above me. He crushed his mouth down on mine, and I could taste myself on his lips and tongue. It was sexy, and I sucked his tongue into my mouth and made love to it. Then I licked his face like a wild animal who was excited by their own scent. I could feel his hand down between our legs. He had that glorious cock in his hand and was lining himself up with my opening. I should have been scared out of my mind. I should have been worried that he wasn’t wearing a condom. But nothing was in my mind at that moment other than how badly I needed to feel this man inside of me. I arched my back so our hips were pressing together. The head of his cock sat resting at my entrance, and I wanted all of it inside of me. I brought my hips up further and that time, he took the hint. He grabbed my hips in both of his hands and plunged into me. I cried out; it hurt, but at the same time, it was one of the most amazing things I had ever felt. He was groaning loudly as he rocked back and forth, pulling himself in and out. God! This was so incredibly good. He pressed his lips to my ear and kissed down along the side of my face to my neck. He took a piece of the sensitive flesh there and bit down on it. I whimpered as he sucked it into his mouth as he continued his gentle massage of the inner walls of my sopping wet pussy. I reached back and grabbed his round, firm ass cheeks in my hands and pushed him down towards me. He began moving faster. I reached up with both of my legs and wrapped them around his waist. He thrust into me faster still. “Harder!” I whispered in a desperate voice. Suddenly, I was a crazed sex lunatic, and

I didn’t care. It was the only thing I was living for at the moment. I needed more. He didn’t hesitate to give it to me. He rammed his cock up into me, that time striking bottom. “Oh, dear God!” he muttered as he slipped his strong arms underneath my legs. He picked them up and rested my feet on his shoulders. Then, he began slamming himself into me so that our hips met each time and the slap of flesh on flesh was the only noise competing with the sound of our struggle for oxygen. Each time he plowed into me, he went deeper than I imagined possible. We were both covered with a light sheen of sweat, and he had to grip onto me even tighter to keep me from slipping away. The struggle between pain and pleasure was real as his fingers dug into my flesh. He sounded like he was getting close and I could feel him swelling inside of me, and then I felt him slow down and begin stroking me hard and deep. It was hot and sexy and I was at the edge of the cliff once more. “Please…” I moaned out. I knew he was trying to make it last but I needed to feel him drill into me. He slipped his hands underneath my neck and I felt him press his body into mine…nearly forcing all of the breath out of my body as he slammed into me — hard. “Oh yes! That’s it…more!” He pulled back and slammed into me again. I threw my head back into the pillow and let out a long, loud moan. I felt him stroking the deepest part of me and wondered if he was loving this as much as I was. As if reading my mind, he pressed a lustful kiss against my ear and said, “Beautiful…so beautiful. This is so good!” I reached for his face and took it in my hands. Turning it towards me, I covered his lips with mine. I felt him moan into my mouth and that turned me on even more, if that was possible. I started rocking my hips up and down as he stroked in and out of me hard and deep, over and over again.

Fire was raging deep in my core as I moaned and whimpered and writhed. I ached in places I didn’t even know existed. The heat between our bodies felt like all it needed was one more spark to ignite the entire room. Crazy sounds were coming out of my throat and my pussy throbbed with the need to come. “Are you close?” I asked him. He grunted and nodded. I wrapped my arms around his strong shoulders and used them as leverage to pull my hips up so that he could slam into me even harder and deeper. I suddenly felt the waves of the orgasm crash into me. As I came, I felt him shudder and he let out a moan that sounded like pure bliss before his entire body began to shiver and shake. He shoved his cock forward and held it inside of me as deep as he could get. He came and came and came. Still trembling, he collapsed down next to me. I still had my arms around him and I let him lay on one of them, practically crushing it, just because I didn’t want to feel that empty feeling I’d felt before ever again. ****** I woke up with the light from the early morning sun streaming in the window into my eyes. I kept them shut tightly and tried to fight my way out of the sheets I seemed to be tangled up in. I was so dehydrated that I could barely open my lips. My tongue was plastered to the roof of my mouth and my throat felt like sandpaper. Damn it! That’ll teach me to order pretty, fruity drinks. My head gave a throb at the thought of it and I started to roll over. I realized that I couldn’t. There was something big and hard blocking my path. What the hell? I slowly pulled one eye open. As soon as I did, before I even processed my surroundings, I remembered. I had sex…with a stranger. Oh no, I’m still in his house! Damn it!

I turned my head to the side then and saw him there. I wasn’t tangled in sheets. My naked body was tangled up with his. Even anxious and sick to my stomach at what I’d done, my breath caught in my throat at the gorgeous sight of him. I blinked a few times as the thoughts began to take shape and accelerate inside of my head. I tried taking a few slow, deep breaths so that they would slow down. I couldn’t follow them when they raced around like that. I had to concentrate on breathing in and breathing out because I felt like something, or someone, was sitting on my chest or holding me under water. My heart hammered relentlessly against the inside of my chest. I had sex with a stranger in his apartment. I had committed a grievous sin and now, as he slept next to me the morning after, I realized that it was even worse than I’d thought. I’d spent the entire night having hot, passionate sex with him and I’d never even asked him his name. Oh, God! Forgive me! I have to get out of here before he wakes up. What have I done?

Chapter Six Jace My new church confessional was an old fashioned one that still had a booth for the priest and one for the parishioner. The church I was at in Boston had been a lot more progressive. During confession, there I sat in the confession “room” in a chair across from the congregate that was confessing. It was one-on-one still, but there was no hiding. Since you can’t hide from God, I felt that was as it should be. This was my first real day of work in Lexington, though, so I would do it their way for a while. After Father Byrne moved on to his new post in New York, it would be my church and I could change things as I saw fit. As I dressed and readied myself to hear confession, the words my mentor in the seminary used to read to us from the guide to hearing confession came rushing back to me. I heard his voice reciting it word-for-word as if he were in the room with me, staring me down with accusing eyes, judging me. “But if he himself be ignorant, a profligate, and a lover of pleasure, how can he teach virtue unto others? And who would be so unwise as to hearken unto him concerning that which he (that is, the penitent) has to say, seeing him a disorderly person and a drunkard, and teaching others not to be intemperate, or to follow any virtue whatever, while he himself is unable to do this? For eyes are more believing than ears, says the divine Scripture. Therefore, take heed unto thyself, O Confessor, for if one sheep be lost through thy negligence, it shall be required at thy hands. ‘For cursed,’ says the Scripture, ‘is he that does the work of the Lord negligently.’ (Jer. 48:10)”

I shuddered and tried to push that memory down as I donned my sacred robes and lit the candles on either side of the confessional. Then, kissing the crucifix around my neck, I said the prayer reserved for priests who are about to hear confession: “Grant to me, O Lord, that wisdom which stands beside Thy throne, that I may know how to judge Thy people with justice, and Thy poor ones with equity…” I could taste the residue of scotch still coating my throat, and the prayer that usually gave me peace, instead caused the bile to rumble up and compete with the alcohol for my notice. I closed my eyes and refocused my mind on my faith and my love of God and I started over. When I finished, I flipped on the green light and took my seat in the chair. Sister Adeline had left a pot of tea for me next to the chair. I poured a cup and held it to my face, letting the steam seep into my skin. It was probably my imagination, but I thought I could smell the alcohol seeping from my pores and filling the room. My stomach had just begun to lurch as the first parishioner arrived. It was time to tuck my sins away to later be judged by my Father and get to work.

Chapter Seven Daphne “Daphne, table six is asking for more coffee.” “Oh shoot! I told them I’d be back 10 minutes ago!” I grabbed the freshly made pot and felt Bethany’s eyes boring in to me as I rushed over to refill their cups. She was standing in the same spot when I got back. “What’s going on with you?” I feigned an innocent look. “Nothing. Why do you ask?” “You’ve been distracted all day.” “Oh, well, I just have a lot on my mind.” “Daphne!” My boss Ken was cooking because our second cook hadn’t shown up. He wasn’t in a good mood about it, either. “Yes?” “The eggs are congealing! If you wouldn’t mind taking them out and picking your personal conversation back up later, that would be great.” “I’m sorry, Ken, of course.” Bethany rolled her eyes. She’d been working here for more than two years and Ken didn’t scare her any longer. This job was my only lifeline at the moment. He scared me to death. I started to reach for one of the plates and Bethany grabbed my arm from behind. Annoyed, I looked back and saw her holding out the plate holder we use after they’d been

sitting underneath the lights. Without it, I would have burned the skin off my hand. “Thank you,” I mouthed, gratefully. She smiled at me and then in a whisper said, “Break in 15 minutes. Be ready to spill.” I smiled back, nervously. There was no way I was going to tell her what I’d done. I could barely stand, that I knew. I took out the orders and refilled a few more drinks before it was time for our break. I took my ice water and followed Bethany out the back door of the restaurant. As soon as we were clear of the building, she lit a smoke and said, “Come on, Daphne. I’ve known you a long time. I know something is wrong.” Bethany was my oldest…my only friend. She was the only one I ever told about my drunken father and the house of horrors I’d grown up in. She loved me and I loved her. She made me feel safe and kept my confidences. She didn’t judge, but there was still no way I was telling her about this. It was between me, God, and whatever name green eyes goes by. I was having a hardenough time with that. I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone else in on the sins I’d committed. “It’s just a personal issue, Beth. I’d rather not talk about it, okay? Maybe some other time I’ll be ready…but not now.” Bless Bethany; she always knew when to push and when to back off. Now, she knew I needed her to back off. “Sure, honey; but remember I’m always here if you need me.” I smiled at her. “I know you are, and I am so grateful. I’m blessed to have you in my life, Bethany.” She laughed. “You are the only person who puts ‘Bethany’ and ‘Blessed’ in the same sentence ever.

You’re so good and pure… I’m not sure why you hang out with a sinner like me sometimes.” If she only knew. I got drunk and had sex with a stranger… If we’re tallying sins, I’d bet at least this week I had her beat. “You’re a saint, Bethany. I don’t know where I would be without you.” She smiled and winked at me as she stubbed out her smoke. “You wouldn’t have all this,” she said, gesturing at the backside of the old diner. “That’s for sure.” We giggled and headed in. Tomorrow was my day off. I couldn’t wait to get to the church and into confession. Maybe then I could feel like I was okay again with the Lord. Maybe once I’d done my penance and I was forgiven, I could move past this phase in my life, and never have to look back.

Chapter Eight Jace It was Friday and my first week of being the new priest was complete. I had given up the alcohol after that Tuesday night. It took my body three days to get it all out of my system, I think. I’d never been a drinker, even before I became a priest. I intensely disliked what it did to my body and my mind. But I had been hitting it so hard that when I quit, that in itself was an ordeal. I’d been on my knees during most of my free time that week, praying for forgiveness and looking for guidance. I was in shock and disbelief at my own actions. I’m not even sure what I would have done or said if I’d woken up with that beautiful woman lying next to me on Wednesday morning. At least there was one thing to be thankful for, and that was that she’d snuck out before I had to face her. I had to struggle with the memories, though. I know I was supposed to be feeling remorse and regret, and I was — kind of. But if truth be told, and I hope no one ever gets that out of me, not a minute had gone by in the past week when she wasn’t on my mind. The fact is, I was still thinking about her and lusting after the memories and the images of her in my mind made it harder to face myself and to be accountable to the Lord for what I’d done. I committed a mortal sin, and although I knew that God forgives us our sins, I still agonized over the fact that I allowed it to happen. I’d like to blame it on the alcohol and the beautiful woman, but I should have known better on both counts. If a priest can’t be counted on to resist temptation, how can he be

counted on to counsel and lead his flock? Besides, I must not have been too drunk; I could remember every sensuous detail. I got up Wednesday morning and went on with my life. Each time she would sneak into my conscious memories, I would stamp them down and move on. It was only at night that she completely took over the space in my head and caused my body to do things that were very un-priest-like. As I sat in the confessional, all of those thoughts ran through my head. I did my best to give the task my undivided attention when someone was in the booth, but the second they left, my thoughts were overtaken once more. I heard the door on the other side of me open and shut, and then I heard the voice of what sounded like an older woman say, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been several weeks since my last confession. During that time, I’ve taken the name of the Lord in vain several times…almost always directed at my husband, Father. He gets me so angry sometimes… I’m sorry, I’m digressing,” she giggled nervously. Confession makes even the astute Catholic nervous, even us priests sometimes, especially after a week like the one I had. Shamelessly, I was still putting mine off. The lady went on to tell me a few more things that she had done, like yelling at the dog or the kids. None of her sins were mortal ones and most of them barely qualified as venial. We said the Act of Contrition together and I gave her the penance and she was on her way. I waited 15 long minutes for the next confession. I say long minutes because every moment that I was alone, my mind wanted to dwell on my sins. I alternated between thinking of them as sins one time and treating them as a sweet, delicious memory the next. I’m a terrible priest. I had just finished that thought when I heard the door open and close on the other

side. After a few seconds, a young woman’s voice said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession.” The voice was distinct and familiar, and because I hadn’t stopped thinking about that night all week, I recognized it immediately. My stomach clenched and I suddenly, couldn’t catch my breath.

Chapter Nine Daphne Friday morning, I got up and went to confession before work. I was secretly and guiltily happy that the confessions at this church were held in the old confessionals, where I didn’t have to face the priest. I was in no way perfect, but at my old church where you sat face to face with the priest, I’d never had to confess anything I was this ashamed of. I know that if I’m going to confess my sins, I should be able to face up to them. But, since I didn’t choose this particular route, I left that much in the hands of God. There was a little sign up that said, “Father Jace will be hearing confession today.” Father Jace must be the new parish priest. I’d always liked that name. I used to think if I ever had a son, I’d like to name him Jace. Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe God is trying to let me know that although I have sinned, my life will go on. I went into the little wooden closet and when I heard the priest pull open his little window I said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession.” I thought I heard him take in a deep breath, and I found that strange. I hoped he was okay. He didn’t say anything, so I went on, “In that time, I have committed multiple sins that I’m sorry for, Father. I drank in excess one night, I used foul language, and I had sexual relations with a man whom I am not married to. For these, and all the sins of my past life, especially for my sins of lust, I am truly sorry.” He still didn’t say anything. I could hear him breathing. It felt like a hesitation to me, and of course, I took it personally, thinking he must be so appalled that he was having a

hard time speaking. I wanted to think that he’d heard a lot worse than my paltry sins, but my imagination was working overtime and I pictured him calling me all sorts of things in his head. God was probably going to strike me down just for having those thoughts in church. I waited, not so patiently, and worried some more as I waited for him to respond. When he did, things only got worse. As soon as I heard the sound of his voice, chills ran from the top of my spine, down my back and across both of my arms. Why was that voice so familiar? I’d heard it recently and something about it made me feel so strange. I listened carefully as he spoke in a slightly shaky voice and I finally remembered where I’d heard that voice before. It belonged to him — the gorgeous man I’d given my virginity to. No way; it can’t be him. This is a priest! I let that settle for a moment and then he said something really strange that got my suspicions aroused again. Before we prayed he said, “Does anyone else know about your…indiscretion?” What an odd question. Why would that matter? A sin was still a sin, whether you told anyone about it or not. “No, Father, I am too ashamed to tell anyone else. Besides, I believe that it’s between God and me at this point.” He hesitated again. This was the oddest confession I’d ever had. Finally, I heard him take a deep breath and imagined him having more questions. He didn’t ask any, however. Instead, he said, “Bless you. Please go and say three Hail Marys and two Our Fathers and sin no more.” I wondered now if the shakiness in his voice was because he recognized my voice, as well. He began to recite the Act of Contrition, and although I knew this drill very well, it took me a few seconds to jump in because I was still freaked out and trying to figure out

what I should do. I remembered back to the night I met the man in the bar. I had thought about how much I liked his voice. It was soft and gentle, but still masculine…like silk, almost. Just like this man’s voice — my new priest. I assured myself that the man I had sex with was not a priest and jumped in at, “I detest all of my sins because they offend thee…” Even as I prayed, it was suddenly impossible to get the image of the gorgeous man that the voice had drummed up out of my head. I knelt at the altar and offered my penance, the entire time almost hoping the priest would step out of his side of the booth so that I could see his face. There was no way, no way at all…that would just be way too much for God to expect me to bear. I finished my prayers and said one more, “Dear God in heaven, please let me be horribly mistaken about Father Jace.” I left with my soul feeling somewhat lighter. Church always did that for me, no matter what the situation. But, I didn’t feel quite as light as I normally did after I confessed my sins. Something was different about it this time. I don’t know if it’s my own paranoia and concerns about his voice sounding so familiar or if this priest just wasn’t as warm and comforting as the ones I’ve known in the past. This one seemed to be more concerned with whether or not I had told anyone than anything else…and that was just odd.

Chapter Ten Jace As soon as I heard the sound of her voice, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I may have even gasped aloud and I hoped that she didn’t hear me. Life as I had come to know it seemed to be ending rapidly. First, I had lost my grandmother, and then I gave in to the sins of the bottle and then the sins of the flesh. Now, I heard the beautiful young woman’s voice again…in the confessional, of all places. I remembered the sound of it clearly. It had a sweet little timbre to it, and besides, when a priest has a moment like that — or an entire night, such as I did that night — he’s going to vividly remember every detail, no matter how drunk he was. I couldn’t believe that I had asked her if she’d told anyone. That was a very unpriestly question. I didn’t offer any words of support or encouragement, I just slapped her penance on her and sent her on her way. Now, I couldn’t help myself. I had to know for sure. I had to be certain that the potential end to my career was kneeling in my church. I was treading all over the sacraments. I pushed open the confessional door just a tiny little crack. Luckily, no one else was waiting for confession. I could see the shapely young lady walk towards the altar in her skirt and heels. I begged myself to remember where I was and to not enjoy watching her walk away. It was hard. She had to have shapeliest legs and backside that I’d seen in a long time…or maybe it was just the only one I’d noticed.

Before she knelt down, she glanced up at the huge crucifix on the wall. I could clearly see her profile and make out her pretty features. This was absolutely, without a doubt, the girl I broke my vows with. I pulled the door closed and once more felt sick to my stomach. What have I done? If she tells anyone, the scandal will surely make the papers, I could lose my job…and my brothers would find out. They’re both so proud of me, like Grandmother always was. Grandmother would turn over in her grave and my brothers…well, I’m sure they’d still love me as much as ever, but the scandal would be humiliating for them, as well. I closed my eyes and prayed, “Dear Father, please forgive me for my trespasses against you, and please God, give me the strength to walk the straight and narrow path you’ve laid out before me.”

Chapter Eleven Daphne I didn’t make it to church the Sunday after confession. I had to work and I was disappointed for more than one reason. The first one being that I really did love going to church. It made me feel close to God and like things were going to be right with the world. The second reason was that I was dying to see the new priest. I kept trying to convince myself that it absolutely was not him…it couldn’t be, but until I actually saw him, it was going to continue to niggle away at me. I wanted to see him so that I could tell myself once and for all that it was all in my head. My guilt was trying to convince me that I had created a much more grievous sin than I’d originally thought. It was eating away at me and I’d have to wait one more week to find out for certain. I prayed every night that the sound of his voice was nothing more than a coincidence. I decided to cook myself some dinner after I got home from work on Monday night. I’d bought some lean beef and I cut it in strips and marinated it. I caramelized some red onions, bell peppers, and Portobello mushrooms cut up into quarter-sized pieces. Then I mixed it all together with some fried rice and rolled it in a whole wheat wrap. I took a big bite before I even made it to the table. It was delicious and I was proud of myself for cooking and not eating fast food. That was just too easy sometimes when I was alone and it was so bad for me. I poured myself a glass of iced tea and just as I finally sat down to eat, my phone rang.

I picked it up off the counter, looked at the face of it and smiled. As soon as I said hello I heard, “Hi, girl!” It was Carla. Carla was my best friend all throughout high school and through two years of Community college. She was probably the only person in the entire world who knew my entire backstory. Poor Carla. “Hi, Carla! How are you?” She laughed. “That’s what I called to ask you. You’re the one who moved. I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with the move and my new job.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I could hear the smile in her voice. “How is the new apartment?” Carla had given me a lot of the kitchen items I’d just used to make dinner. When I moved, the only things I took from my father’s home were my own personal things. I didn’t want to give that man any reason to think that I owed him anything. “It’s good. I really like it here so far.” Except the part where I got drunk and decide to give my virginity to a priest. “I even cooked dinner for myself tonight thanks to you and some of the utensils you gave me.” She laughed again. “You’re so domestic,” she said. I giggled. “Yeah right…not,” I said. “I’m getting better, though, that’s for sure. I’m actually enjoying what I made tonight, not just eating to stay alive.” “What about the job? How is that going?” “It’s good. They’ve all been really nice to me, and I haven’t dropped any trays of food or burnt anyone with a hot pot of coffee yet.” “That’s always good,” she said with a laugh. “You know, I hate seeing you work as a waitress. You’re so smart. You were the smartest girl in our class. You should be in nursing school already.”

“I’ll save enough to go back in a couple of years. I’ll still be young.” “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about you getting pregnant and ruining it for yourself,” she said. “Since you’re a saint, as well.” I felt a pang of guilt stab me in the chest. “I’m thinking sainthood is not in my future,” I told her. “No? I want details.” “I’m just saying that I’m no saint.” “Really? You could have fooled me. How many other 22-year old virgins do you know? Especially hot ones.” “Oh hush,” I said, feeling my eyes fill with tears. Did I really give my virginity up during the act of committing one of the greatest sins against the Catholic Church? She had me thinking about it again. Damn! “Hey, Carla…I need to tell you something.” “Good, fess up!” she said. I could tell she was smiling. Carla loved nothing better than dishing dirt. “I lost my virginity.” “You did? To who? Where? How?” Laughing, I said, “Whoa! Slow down there. I was angry with my father-” “He hasn’t been up there bothering you, has he?” “No. He called and said some stupid things, as usual. But afterwards, I was stressed out. I went and found a little hole in the wall bar and I got drunk. There was this guy there… “Carla, he was the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He had these really pretty eyes with long eyelashes and short, sandy blond hair. And, he also had a killer body to go along

with it. He was pretty drunk himself…drunker than me, I think.” “Whoa! What is his name?” “I have no idea…” “You slut!” She giggled. She had no idea that was exactly what I felt like. “I went to his apartment with him and we had sex. It was pretty amazing sex, too. He was sweet and gentle and all man at the same time.” “That sounds better than anything I’ve had in recent years. Why do you sound so flat?” “Well, first of all, you know how I feel about my faith. I was going to wait until I was married…and I blew that on a one-night stand.” “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. You waited longer than most. Five years longer than me.” “That doesn’t count,” I told her. “It’s not about how long you wait. It’s about saving it for the man you intend to spend the rest of your life with.” “So maybe this guy is that man.” That was when I lost it. I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I said, “Oh, Carla! I did something terrible…I think…” “Oh no! You’re not pregnant, are you?” “No. I’ve taken a pregnancy test. But I went to confession last week…” “Girl, you beat yourself up enough. You don’t need to be confessing to some old priest that’s going to look down his nose at you.” I didn’t get angry with her when she said things like that. I knew she didn’t have the same belief system as I did, and that was alright. We loved each other anyways.

“They have the old-fashioned confessionals, at least, so I didn’t have to face him. But the thing is…his voice sounded really familiar. It took me a bit to figure out where I knew it from. Carla, I think he was the guy.” She sounded like she was choking on whatever she’d taken a drink of right then. “What the hell? You think you slept with a priest? Baby, your Catholic guilt is working overtime. Did you see him? I’m sure you’ve been to church since you’ve been there. Can’t you tell by looking at him if he’s the same guy or not?” “I haven’t seen him. He’s new at the church, and I’m new in town. The guy I slept with that night told me he’d just moved into town. He had boxes all over his apartment.” “Any priestly stuff?” “No, no ‘priestly’ stuff,” I said with a laugh. “No crosses hanging upside down on the walls?” Giggling I said, “No, Carla! That’s so bad!” She laughed. “Well, I just thought maybe this guy was the devil, dressed up as a priest to tempt you.” “Maybe he is.” I wasn’t joking. What if that was the case? “Oh, come on, honey. You’re the best person I know. You didn’t sleep with a priest.” “Well, I haven’t really told you what practically convinced me that I did. When I told the priest about having sex, he asked me if I’d told anyone else. I thought that was really strange. Why would he ask me that?” “What did you tell him when he asked you that?” “I told him that I was too ashamed…but that I thought that it was between God and me anyways and no one else needed to know.”

“So, maybe that was what he was going for. Maybe he could sense you beating up on yourself the way you do. I know that you believe God still loves you, right?” “Of course.” “Okay, so maybe that’s all he was going for. He wanted you to know that your whole life didn’t have to change for one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, honey, even saints like you, apparently.” “Stop calling me that,” I told her. “I don’t know, Carla. I really sensed he was relieved when I told him I hadn’t told anyone.” “Baby, you are letting your guilt eat away at your brain. You feel guilty for losing your cherry.” “Carla!” “Oh Lord, fine. You feel guilty for giving your maidenhead to a man.” I laughed and shook my head; she was too much. “Yes, I do feel guilty.” “So, your head is messing with you because of it. You’ll see. You’ll take one look at the priest when you see him and you’ll know that there is now way you slept with that guy.” I laughed again and she said, “In all seriousness, he was probably just trying to understand your situation and your frame of mind better. Or, I know how fast you talk when you want to just get something over with. Maybe he just wanted you to slow down and think about it so you can learn from it. That’s what priests do, right?” “I suppose…” “Did he give you a stricter penance than other priests?” “No, it was about the same.”

“Well then, I’m sure that I’m right. Of course, I usually am. You’re letting your thoughts and emotions drive you crazy. You do it all the time, baby. You’re your own worst enemy.” That much I knew was true. For the time being, I wanted to believe she was right and I hadn’t done anything as horrible as I feared. I changed the subject back to her and we had a 20-minute conversation about her new boyfriend. Carla loves men. She unfortunately looks for love in all the wrong places…except rectories, that’s apparently my department. Each man she goes out with starts perfect and she thinks, “This is it, I’ve met the one.” Then by the end of the first or second month, he turns into a two-headed sloth and she has to try and get rid of him. The good news is that she never gives up. The bad news is that she never gives up.

Chapter Twelve Jace The Saturday after I listened to the woman I’d have sex with confess her sins, I cancelled on my brothers for lunch. I didn’t know how to deal with all of it myself, but I knew that my brothers were the wrong ones to ask. I love them more than my next breath, but neither of them is very religious. Grandmother tried, but I was the only one it stuck onto to…and look how that turned out. Anyway, I needed some quiet time so I spent all day Saturday organizing my new apartment and talking aloud to God as I did. I wished so badly that He could just tell me what to do. I suddenly understood those parishioners who came to me and said, “God gives me all of these choices…why doesn’t he just put the right one in front of me so I know which one it is?” I knew what the Catholic Church expected of me. I’d taken vows to serve God and to remain pious as I did so. I knew that I should confess my own sins to the priest at our Diocese, and I knew that once I did that, there would have to be consequences for my actions beyond those of my tortured soul. I hadn’t been able to do any of that. It’s like I was stuck in limbo, waiting for someone to tell me which direction to go in. The following Saturday morning, my brother Ryan called me. “Hey! You have to show up for lunch today.” “I don’t know, Rye…” “Come on! Too much is changing. Grandmother is gone, and you’re pulling away

from us. I can’t handle it, Jace!” “I’m not pulling away. I’ve just had a lot to do and a lot on my mind with the move and all.” “Two hours, one afternoon. Come on, bro. Please.” How could I say no? I dressed in street clothes and met them at the Applebee’s in town. Max was dressed in his usual button down dress shirt and slacks, and Ryan had on faded jeans with holes in them, a Levi jacket with the sleeves cut off to make a vest, and a white-t-shirt. Colorful tattoos covered both of his arms. They looked like an odd couple and I had to chuckle at what we would have looked like together had I worn my collar. “Hey, there’s the wayward brother. Are you trying to steal Ryan’s role?” Max asked me as I walked up. “Nope, he’s still the wayward one,” I said with a grin. Max got up and hugged me and Ryan followed suit. “I’m so glad you showed up that I’m not even going to let your insults get to me,” he said. We all sat down and ordered. My brothers ordered beers with their lunch. I hadn’t had a drink at all since that night. I ordered water. “So, how are things going for you, Rye?” I felt bad that I hadn’t called more to check in on him. I knew that he was a grown man, but I also knew that my grandmother had coddled him and made it hard for him to be able to do things on his own that grown men should be able to do. “Things are okay. One day at a time, you know?” “He’s just mostly having a hard time learning how to work the appliances,” Max joked. “You know, washer, dryer, coffee pot…” Ryan flipped him the bird. “Not in front of the priest!” Max scolded him.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Are you kidding? He’s blatantly picked up women right in front of me.” Ryan laughed and said, “Well, in my defense…I was drunk.” We all laughed at that. It was good to just laugh and joke with them and take my mind off of my troubles for a while. We ate our lunch and carried on light conversation, trading barbs and insults. For a while, it seemed like the old days and my soul seemed lighter than it had in a long time. That was until Ryan leaned in and told Max, “Don’t look now, but three fine pieces of ass just walked in and sat down behind us.” Max took a whiff of the air and said, “I can smell them. Fresh pussy.” “Come on, you two; that’s disrespectful,” I said. “You’re right,” Max said. “I’m sorry.” Ryan shook his head and looked back at the girls. “I have a really hard time understanding how you do it, bro. How could a man give up pussy…” “And alcohol,” Max said, raising his glass. “Well, he can have wine, right?” I didn’t want to get into all the rules with him right then, so I just said, “Yeah, as long as it’s blessed.” Max laughed heartily and said, “Well maybe we could have a pussy blessed and then you can have one of those, too.” Ryan thought that was hilarious and choked on his beer as he laughed. The girls they were lusting after took notice of our rowdy table and looked over. Max pasted his most charming smile on his face and said, “Hello, ladies.” The girls all said

hello and then whispered something and giggled. I thought my brothers were going to actually let it go until Ryan all of a sudden said, “Do we have to have the pussy blessed by another priest, or can you do it yourself?” He and Max laughed at that like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Growing annoyed with being laughed at and feeling so stressed out I thought I might explode, I slammed down my water glass and said, “You know what? I was drunk two weeks ago… in a bar…and I took home some amazing pussy.” The table went dead silent for several seconds and then I heard Ryan’s fork clatter to the table. Then, in that eloquent way my little brother has of speaking, I heard, “The fuck you say?”

Chapter Thirteen Daphne I spent a lot of time the following week talking to God and praying for guidance and forgiveness. I also spent a lot of time convincing myself that there was absolutely no way that a parish priest got drunk in a local bar and had sex with a stranger. No way. Carla was right and I was letting my imagination take hold. By the end of that second week, I was okay with myself and able to look in the mirror. I had to accept that God didn’t expect me to be perfect and everyone makes mistakes. I knew that, for the most part, I was a good person, and I felt good about myself most of the time. I had to decide to file the night of drunken sex with the super-hot stranger under “bad decisions that I definitely shouldn’t repeat.” I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it anymore. I also decided to file the sound of the priest’s voice in the confessional underneath, “coincidence.” That one was harder to do, but it had to be…didn’t it? I slept in a little bit on Sunday morning since it turned out to be my only day off. Mass didn’t begin until 11, so I got up around 8:30 and had my coffee on the little balcony of my new apartment. It was my favorite part of my new home, and the weather was perfect. There are two things that renew me when I’m feeling stressed out or overwhelmed. One of them is church and the other is nature. I love to be outside, and since I hadn’t had a lot of time to go for my evening walks or just explore the new city, the balcony was a

Godsend. After I finished my coffee and bagel, I went inside and soaked for a bit in the tub. By the time I pulled on my dress and tights and fixed my long hair in a twisty side ponytail for church, I felt good. I love the church building here. It’s all old stone and stained glass; just walking inside gives me a sense of peace. The air is tinctured with the scent of incense and candles. I imagined that I could smell the musty prayer books…or maybe I really could. As I dipped my fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross, I breathed it in and let it fill me with grace. I made my way down the brightly-lit passage with the polished wood floors and colorfully-painted walls that ran along the east-end of the church. Back there, I passed the little vestry and next to it a small kitchen where the Fathers and the Sisters often prepared and ate their meals. As I pushed through the heavy oak doors of the inner sanctum, I could hear the singing of the choir as it echoed off of the masonry and wafted up into the rafters. I found a pew near the front and lost myself in the sweet song that reminded me of the innocence of youth; it soothed my spirit and allowed me to imagine a beautiful life stretched out before me. When the choir finished, the lector came out. I’d only been to that church twice since I had moved there, but the Father had already announced his exit and said good-bye. The lector was there to announce and introduce the new parish priest. I knew a lot of parishioners got nervous when their old priest left them for a new post. I was so new there that it didn’t really matter to me. They were especially anxious because their old priest of 15 years had just up and vanished. It had been months and still no one knew where he’d gone. Father Byrnes had

done a great job of filling in, though, and the congregation had grown close with and accustomed to him. I didn’t know him well enough to form an opinion. The only thing I was interested in was finally seeing the new priest’s face so that I could convince myself once and for all that he wasn’t the man I slept with. “Welcome, everyone. It’s so nice to see that we have a full house today. I hope you all had a chance to see Father Byrne off and thank him for visiting here with us. He did an amazing job and we’ll miss him. “But, when God closes one chapter of our books, he opens another. We have the honor now of having our very own priest that we can hopefully hang onto for a long time: Father Jace. He was here last week and he’s been hearing confessions, but for those of you who haven’t had a chance to be here, I’d like to re-introduce Father Jace O’Doyle. “He’ll be walking in through the back there today where you can all see him. Feel free to stand now and welcome him one more time for all of you who didn’t make it last week.” I stood up along with everyone else. The church was so full that for several minutes, I couldn’t see over the top of other heads to get a glimpse. I held my breath, just knowing in my heart that it couldn’t possibly be him, but oh my! Was I ever wrong! For the first time in my life, a cuss word escaped my mouth in church as the man who I’d had a drunken one-night stand with passed by my pew dressed in his black cassock and white collar. I’ve committed a mortal sin. I could feel the sweat beginning to form itself under my arms and around my neck. My face was on fire. My stomach was churning. I didn’t know what to do. Should I leave? I was in such a panic mode that I didn’t realize at first that everyone was sitting now and I was still standing up. I sat down quickly and knew that if I got up and left now, it would draw more attention to me than if I just stuck it out. I sunk down in the pew and

cursed the fact that I picked a seat so close to the altar. I usually had nothing to hide…but oh, I certainly did now — so much. Maybe I should still leave. Maybe I should find another church and confess to another priest what I’ve done. I could feel the bile rising up in the back of my throat. It burned hot like acid, and I was aching to at least get up and rid my stomach of its contents. I couldn’t risk it, though. Any motion might have caused me to lose control and that would make a scene. If I made a scene…then what? I glanced around me. There were a lot of people there. Maybe he wouldn’t notice me; he’d been speaking for close to 10 minutes already and I hadn’t processed a word that he had said. How can he stand up there and recite mass, knowing what he’s done? If I could ask him one question, that would be it. I wondered what he would say, or do, if I stayed after mass and tried to talk to him. He was obviously worried that I was going to tell someone. His question in the confessional convinced me of that. Could I bring myself to face him, though? In my defense, he wasn’t wearing his collar when I met him in the bar. I had no idea that he was a priest. But he knew…so did that make his sin greater? Of course, it does. He took vows. He not only broke that sacrament, but he allowed me to commit a grievous sin without any warning. I was not sure what God was thinking about it, but in my head, “Father” Jace had a lot more to answer for than I did. I shuddered at the thought of how he’d just thrown away his purity that night and wondered if he’d done it before. He sure seemed to know what he was doing. I took a chance and glanced up towards the altar. He was blessing the Eucharist and not looking at me. Will the body and blood of Christ still be as holy after being blessed by a fallen priest? I stared at his handsome face and wondered, if he was so willing to throw away his

relationship with God by having illicit, drunken sex, what else might he be willing to do? What might he be willing to do in order to keep it a secret? I shivered again and then immediately chastised myself for those impure thoughts. Sex is a far stretch from murder. I stuck out the mass until it was time to receive the Eucharist. The church was a large one so there were three lines. Father Jace was giving his out on the far right. I chose the line on the far left. After I received my communion, I stepped to the side, crossed myself and knelt quickly with a word of thanks to God our Savior; then, I slipped out the side door. I could finally breathe.

Chapter Fourteen Jace I stood in the greeting line after mass was over and said hello to the people I’d already met and met quite a few people that I hadn’t seen before. I finished talking with a young couple that had just moved to the area and were looking to start a Bible study when I was surprised to see a familiar face. “Hi, Jace.” Lily had been my girlfriend right out of high school for two years. She was as beautiful as ever. She had long, wild, dark hair and light blue eyes that seemed to look right through you sometimes. I had been in love with her, desperately so, once upon a time. I took her hand and smiled back. “Lily, it’s so good to see you. Do you live here now?” “Yes, I work here in town. I’d heard that you became a priest. Congratulations. I hope you’re happy.” I was. I was filled with more joy than I ever knew…right up until Grandmother died and it all fell apart. I forced a brighter smile and said, “I’m very happy, Lily. Thank you. How about you? Are you married? Any children?” She’d always wanted a big family. We talked about getting married, but we hadn’t made it official yet before she broke up with me. I wouldn’t have sex with her. I wanted to wait, and I was already considering the priesthood…or at the very least, becoming a Eucharistic minister. She had told me she needed passion in her life. We went our separate ways, and I went on to the seminary. She was my last relationship before I became a priest and entered

my relationship with God. The irony is that if I’d slept with her back then, it would have been much less of a sin than the one I’d committed a couple of weeks ago. “I’m not married. I was engaged for a few years, but it didn’t work out. I’d love to have coffee sometime and catch up if you’re able?” “I’d like that,” I told her honestly. It would be nice to share an afternoon talking with an old friend. “Great,” she said, taking out a little card that had the name of a hair salon on it with Lily’s name underneath. “My cell number is on that. Give me a call when you have some time.” “I will, Lily. It was so nice to see you.” “You, too,” she said, flashing that pretty dimple again.

Chapter Fifteen Daphne Monday morning, I got a call from the restaurant. It was my boss Ken. “Hey, Daphne, I’m sorry to do this to you, but there was a mix up on the schedule and we’re a little overstaffed. Do you mind having the day off since you’re scheduled for the rest of the week?” “No, of course not,” I told him. I was a little disappointed because I did need the money — and I was already dressed and ready to go — but I could readily think of at least one thing I needed to do. “Thanks for letting me know before I got there. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Thank you, Daphne.” I liked Ken. I was learning a lot from him, and although I hoped someday to go back to school and become a nurse, it’s all good life experience. After I hung up, I changed out of my work clothes and slipped on a floor-length skirt and a white blouse. I left my hair in the braid I’d put it in for work and headed down to the church. I had to get it over with or it would ruin the relationship I had with God. Being a good Catholic was what got me through so many bad times in my life. I was in no way ready to lose that. Confession was in full swing when I got there. I waited on my knees in front of the altar until everyone else had gone before me. When there was no one else left, I slipped into the confession box and said, “Bless me, Father, but I’m not here to confess any sins. I’m here to speak to you about what we did…the sin we committed together. I’m the

woman you had sex with. My name is Daphne and now, I know that yours is Jace. Father Jace.” It was deathly quiet for what seemed like a long time. At first, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything to me, at all. Then when he did, I found myself wishing that he hadn’t. “I slept with you? Are you crazy? I’m a priest.” He sounded righteously indignant, and it really pissed me off. “How dare you? You broke your vows, and I have agonized over this for nearly two weeks. You sat in there last week and let me confess to you, and you didn’t have the courage to admit your part in it. You were only concerned with whether or not I told anyone. Now you call me crazy? What kind of a priest are you, anyways?” I could hear him breathing heavily, but he still wasn’t saying anything so I said, “Maybe you were too drunk to remember clearly. You were slurring your speech a lot in that seedy little bar where we met. I must say that meeting a priest in a bar was not something I would have ever expected. “I was pretty drunk, too, but I remember that night vividly. I remember going back to your apartment and making love to you in your bed. I remember waking up the next morning and feeling horrified that I’d done something so horrible as to have sex outside of wedlock. I’d never done that before, you know. “Now, I not only have to live with that, but thanks to you, I have to live with the fact that I had sex with a priest. If you don’t think we need to talk about that, that’s okay. I’ll find someone in the church who is willing to talk to me.” I stood up to go and heard him say, “Wait! I’m sorry. You’re right. You shouldn’t have to go to someone else. If you’re still willing to talk to me, just slip me an address or something where I can meet you before you go.” I didn’t know if the “I’m sorry” was for sleeping with me, lying to me, or being angry

with me — or if he believed it would encompass it all. I wasn’t accepting his apologies at that point, but I would give him the chance to talk. Mostly because I was so curious as to why he did what he did. I had already written down my address and phone number in the hopes that he would agree to talk privately. I slipped it through the slot on his side and left without saying anything further.

Chapter Sixteen Jace I sat there for a long time after Daphne left, pondering my own demise. It was bad enough that I had sex. Not much was going to trump that, unless someday I decided to commit murder. Dear God, forgive me for that thought. I was kidding, and it was completely inappropriate. She’s right. What kind of priest am I? I just couldn’t believe that she was part of my church. Of all of the women I could have messed up with, I had to choose one that was an active part of the church…and it sounded like she’d been a virgin. How the hell did I not notice that? Sorry, Lord; I didn’t mean to sit in the confessional and cuss. I didn’t mean to get drunk, and I didn’t mean to have sex. I didn’t mean to yell at the beautiful young woman that I’d duped into giving her virginity to a priest. God, it just gets worse and worse. I had to talk to someone. I’d blurted it all out and tried to get some kind of sympathy from my brothers that day we had lunch, or at the very least, words of wisdom. Once they recovered from the shock, Ryan thought it was back slapping and sordid details time. When he found out I wasn’t bragging, he lost interest. Max just kept looking at me with that serious big brother look he gets on his face when he’s worried. I’d felt sick as soon as I said it out loud and quickly found an excuse to leave. I knew who I needed to talk to. The one person who would always forgive me, but never let me get away with anything: Grandma. I spent another hour listening to

confessions and then left and drove into Boston. When I got to Grandma’s gravesite, I saw that she had fresh flowers all over it. It looked like Rye and Max had been there recently, too. “Hey, Grandma. I hope that you’re dancing happily in the Promised Land. I know if anyone deserved to go to Heaven, it’s you. I sure do miss you, though. I miss you so much that my chest hurts all the time. I don’t know what to do without you. “I screwed up so badly. It’s so bad that I don’t know how to fix it, or if there is any way to fix it. I got drunk and I had sex…” I shuddered. It was the first time I’d heard myself say it out loud. “I broke my vows and the sacraments, and not only do I have my Lord to answer to… but the young lady I had sex with, as well. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know how to explain to her that priests are human and have the same urges as other humans… but we’re not supposed to act on them. “Now that I have, is that it for me? I can still remember how this woman smelled and the way her skin felt so soft. Her hair was silky, and God help me, but I loved the feel of it in my face. Please help me, Grandmother. Please tell me what to do. I’m so lost.” I sat there for a while with tears rolling down my face I was waiting for an answer that wasn’t forthcoming. Finally, I told my grandmother how much I loved her once more and said goodbye. With trepidation in my soul, I drove back to Lexington and towards the address Daphne left me. It was time to come face-to-face with the consequences of my bad decisions. I hated to admit it, but the closer I get to being alone with her, the more I realize that the hardest part was going to be not being able to touch her again. She accused me of being too drunk to remember, but the truth is that the memory of touching her was as fresh

in my mind as if it only just happened…and my fingers ached to touch her again.

Chapter Seventeen Daphne I was a nervous wreck all day, but as soon as I heard the knock on my apartment door, I was tempted to run and jump right off the balcony. I was the one who wanted to talk…or I suppose needed was more accurate. I was hoping that by doing this, I could get him out of my system once and for all and then I could work on improving my relationship with God. I opened the door and he stood there in front of me in full priest regalia. If I hadn’t already been intimidated and scared to death, I was then. I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he was going for, or maybe if he thought I’d go easier on him because of it. The only reason I was so angry with him was because he was a priest, so it wasn’t helping either of our causes for him to flaunt it. He smiled, and God help me if I didn’t feel it all the way to my core. “Hello, Daphne.” I stepped back and said, “Father Jace.” I emphasized the “Father” in case he was to forget again. I saw him give a quick look around as he walked inside my apartment. It was as if he were checking to see if anyone else was there, like maybe the paparazzi were going to jump out from behind the curtains. It would serve him right if they did. “Have a seat,” I said. “So what’s up with the garb? Did you think I’d go easier on you if you actually looked like a priest?”

He looked down at his clothes and then with a sad smile, he said, “No. I came straight from confession. Plus, if anyone asked any questions, I wanted to have a legitimate reason for being here. I’m officially welcoming a new parishioner to our flock.” I rolled my eyes. He seemed to be entirely in self-preservation mode and it was ticking me off. What about me? “So,” I said, taking the seat next to him — I only had one small sofa, so it was either that or stand. “Do you do this a lot?” His face colored and he said, “No, never before, actually. I was struggling with some personal issues that led to some doubts about my faith. I went to the bar that night to be out in my community and clear my head. I was hoping to remind myself how much I love what I do and bring myself back to my faith.” I raised an eyebrow. “So what happened?” “I saw you.” The look in his green eyes when he said that made me shudder. If he was coming on to me again…he was good. I felt my insides tingle and once again I had to put myself in check. “I wish I could explain it,” he continued. “When I saw you, I had this uncontrollable urge to be with you. It’s something I haven’t felt in years, never since I’ve become a priest. I should have been able to control it, but since I also allowed myself to drink way too much alcohol, and although that is no excuse, it did lower my inhibitions way too much.” God, I’m ridiculous. The butterflies were taking flight in my stomach, delighting in the fact that a priest of all people was telling me I created “an irresistible urge” inside of him. God, please help me. “So what shall we do about this, Father Jace?” I was trying to sound professional but the feelings racing through me were touching places that they shouldn’t be and stirring up memories of our night together and the way he felt and tasted…and most especially the

way he touched me. “Maybe I should take this off,” he said, standing and unzipping the cassock. I watched as he pulled it off and then slipped off his collar. He laid them gently across the back of the couch and sat down. The cassock started to slip and I scooted over to catch it, realizing too late that it put me thigh to thigh with Jace. He looked at me and said, “Now we can talk like just two people. I know this has to be hard for you. I’m so sorry I put you in this position, Daphne.” “I just can’t understand it. I thought being a priest was a calling. Is it just a façade to you? A way to make people believe you’re this holy, pious man while you go on and live however you choose to when no one is looking?” His eyes looked watery as he said, “No, Daphne, I swear. I have wanted to be a priest since I was a very young boy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I love God, and I love the Catholic Church. I can’t imagine my life now without it. I’m here to find out how we can fix this. If my diocese finds out what I’ve done…I can lose everything. Do you plan to tell anyone, Daphne?” I should…shouldn’t I? Maybe not. Maybe it’s as much between him and God as it is between me and him. As it was, I had no desire or intentions to tell anyone. “No, Jace, I’m not going to tell anyone.” He reached for my hand, and I didn’t move it. The simple touch of our hands sent thrills racing through my body and caused me to have to concentrate on my breathing. His eyes locked on mine before suddenly his arms were around me, pulling me in against his hard chest and stirring deeper desires. His arms were hard too and strong. I didn’t know that priests worked out. I tried to pull back. I was getting too excited and afraid of what I might do. He held tightly, though, and the only part of me I was able to pull back was my face. Our eyes

locked again and then his dropped to my lips. It wasn’t a priestly look at all, and I knew he was going to kiss me. I should pull away. I should fight it. I just couldn’t stop myself; I wanted it too badly. I craved the taste of his lips. He lowered his to mine and crushed against them in a passionate kiss. I let my lips part, and his tongue snaked in and found mine. We kissed until neither of us could breathe and then he let me go and abruptly stood up. My head was still spinning when he said, “I’m sorry. I have to go.” He grabbed his cassock and collar, and I sat there in a state of shock as I watched him go. I wanted him to come talk so that I could try to understand how he’d broken his vows and why he’d done so with me…but I wanted him so badly that I was ready to lead him right back into temptation.

Chapter Eighteen Jace I woke up tangled in the sheets. I dreamt of Daphne that night — and every night for the past two weeks. I still couldn’t believe that I had the strength to walk away from her. Maybe I was still filled with the Holy Spirit, after all. I didn’t feel as guilty about my dreams since I couldn’t control those if I tried. I’m hoping that the satisfaction of being with her for those six or eight hours every night would be enough to keep me on the straight and narrow throughout the day. In my dreams, we make love. I can feel her sweet lips on my neck and along the line of my jaw. If I close my eyes, even when awake, I can feel that first thrust. I made myself open my eyes again, but the longing and the ache in my core were still there. It made me both frustrated and giddy at the same time. I closed my eyes again…one more time before I got up. I revisit the dream, replaying the memory of how her nipples felt between my fingers and tasted between my lips. I felt myself growing hard, but I resisted touching; instead, I just lay there with the image of her in my mind, and it was sinful, blissful, torture. I opened my eyes once more. My body was heavy with want and the hunger for her ran deep. Untangling myself from the sheets, I did what I’d done every day for the past two weeks. I headed for the shower, turned the water on cold, and climbed in. This was both a temporary cure for my body’s lustful responses and a punishment for allowing myself to dwell on it during my waking hours when I am supposed to have control. I

couldn’t help but wonder if she dreamt about me, too. Are we really together in our dreams? I stepped out of the shower, and as I dried off, I tried to refocus my thoughts. I was having coffee with Lily that day. I figured it should be fun, catching up. Once again, my thoughts returned to Daphne and the way I felt about her. I had never felt that strongly for Lily, and she knew it. I loved her, but I was happy with it being a platonic kind of love. What I felt for Daphne couldn’t be classified as anything other than a pure, raging inferno of lust. I dressed and drove to the coffee shop where I found Lily waiting for me. She looked really pretty in a pair of blue jeans and a sleeveless red blouse. I could tell that she must work out quite a bit to keep herself in shape. It was actually something we used to do together, a million years ago. Weightlifting and running were my two biggest passions besides my faith growing up. The weightlifting was a stress reliever for me; it still is. I don’t do it because I’m worried about what my body looks like. I do it because of the way it makes me feel. I didn’t run as often as I used to. It always worked to clear my head when I needed it back in the day. When Lily saw me, she smiled and stood up. “Hello again; I was really glad you called,” she said. “Me, too,” I told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I was surprised, but pleased to see you in church last week.” We sat down and ordered our coffees. While we waited she said, “You used to talk about becoming a priest. I secretly hated it when you did that.” She smiled, but I’m sure she meant what she said. “I’m sorry; I really am sorry for everything. I think by the time you broke up with me I had already made up my mind. But I didn’t know how to come right out and tell you, so I beat around the bush a lot.”

She smiled again. “I know, and now I understand. Back then, we were just so young. I was angry because it was unfathomable to me. The thought of promising yourself to the church and never having a family…” The waitress sat Lily’s coffee down in front of her and then mine. When she was gone, I said, “I always knew how important that was to you, having a family. Why haven’t you married? Are you still looking for Mr. Right?” “I thought I found him…once.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking about me or not. Then she said, “I was married for about five minutes. I married a marine. I met him about six months after you and I broke up. “His name was Garrett, and I’m pretty sure he was my soulmate. We loved all of the same things, and we both wanted the same kind of future. We got married and were only together for about three months when he got deployed to Afghanistan. He was killed a month later by an IED.” “Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry.” My heart hurt for her. She had tears in her eyes even then, just talking about it. She nodded and brushed a stray tear away. “I’m sorry. I still miss him. I was so angry when it first happened. I spent months locked in our home, reliving the memories I had of him and railing at God. I refused to go to church, and I even told my mother I was denouncing the church and my faith at one point.” I couldn’t help but smile. Her mother was one of the most religious women I’d ever known. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine how she reacted to that. “I’ll bet that didn’t go over well.” She smiled, too, and said, “Not even a little bit. She told me I was being selfish. Garrett had died for his God and his country, and now that he was gone, I was wasting my life feeling sorry for myself. She told me how God had a plan for me and although it was

okay to grieve, I also needed to understand that God had a plan for my life and it wasn’t for me to question it.” “That is a hard thing to grasp,” I said, honestly. “I lost my Grandmother recently and I felt the same way.” “Oh no! I’m so sorry to hear that. She was everything to you and your brothers. That had to be so hard.” “It was, and I didn’t take it very well, at all.” I wasn’t going to tell her about the drinking and Daphne, but it was at least nice to be able to talk about the grief out loud. “As a priest, it should have been easy for me. I should have been rejoicing that she’d gone home and appreciating the fact that we were allowed to have her at all. Instead, I was angry and looking for ways to act out.” She grinned. “Exactly how does a priest act out? Did you skip your prayers? Throw your rosary beads?” I laughed. “You guessed it,” I said. “So, let’s change the subject to something less depressing. I’m guessing from the card you gave me that you’re a hairdresser.” “Yes. I’ve always loved to do hair. After Garrett died, I thought about going back to school, but I love doing what I do. I like making other people feel pretty, and I like creating designs. Having a pair of scissors in my hand is cathartic. What about you? Do you ever regret your choice?” I thought about Daphne again. I never had, before I met her. Since then, I did at least once a day, and that in itself is a sin. “No,” I lied. Another sin. “I love what I do. It fulfills me.” Most of the time, that was true. “Good. I’m really glad you’re happy, Jace. I never stopped thinking and wondering

about you.” “I am, and I never stopped thinking about you, either. I knew I couldn’t make you happy, but I hoped that someone did.” She smiled. “Garrett made me happy, but do you want to know a secret?” “What’s that?” “I’ve learned over the past few years that the only real way to be happy is through myself. Other people can perpetuate your happiness, but you have to take charge of your own life and live it well.” “You’re very wise,” I told her with a smile. “Hey! How do you feel about canoes?” She laughed and said, “Honestly, I can take them or leave them.” “How would you like to go on a canoe trip this weekend? It’s an annual thing that the church puts on. I still have room in my boat.” “That actually sounds like fun. Sure, I’d like that.” “Good, it’s a date.”

Chapter Twenty Daphne I was sitting underneath the solar bus shelter next to the giant statue of the strangest looking toucan I’d ever seen and thinking about how screwed up my life was. I was waiting for Carla’s bus to come in. She was coming to spend the weekend with me, and I couldn’t wait to see her. I hadn’t even realized how lonely I was until I thought about actually having a live human in my home to talk to for a few days. You would think all of the excitement over that would distract me, but it didn’t, really. I still couldn’t get Jace off my mind. Or as I should have been calling him, Father Jace. Each time I had a carnal thought about him, I’d say a prayer begging God to forgive me. I’m not sure if that was going to do me any good or not, though, because it was never more than a few minutes after I finished the prayer that I was having another one. It was so weird that I hung on to my virginity for so long, and then, boom! I had sex with one man and I was hooked. Maybe it’s like taking meth or heroin, and one taste causes you to become addicted. Or maybe it’s just Jace. Maybe there should be guidelines about what priests are supposed to look like. Jace doesn’t look like a priest. Even in his cassock, he looks way too young, but then when he takes that off and he’s wearing regular clothes…Jesus! The man is just way too sexy to be a priest! I blame him for this entire mess. Not just because of his sexiness, I guess he really can’t help that, but because he never told me who he was before I slept with him. Then

afterwards, he only admitted it because he had to…and then the worst part of it all… I came onto him again, knowing the full story. I’m so disgusted with myself and embarrassed. He walked away that time. Why the hell couldn’t he have just done that in the first place? “Daphne!” I’d been wrapped in my thoughts and hadn’t even noticed that Carla’s bus had arrived. “Hey!” I ran over to her as she dropped her bags to wrap me in a hug. Carla and I were about the same height, but she was way curvier than me. She doesn’t even border on being fat; she just curves in all of the right places. The boys followed her around with their tongues hanging out in high school because she was the only freshman with porn star-sized boobs. “I’m so happy you’re here!” I told her. She finally let go of me and said, “I’m so happy to be here. Besides missing you like crazy, I had to see you in the flesh and make sure you’re okay. You’ve sounded pretty torn up on the phone lately. But damn, if you aren’t still gorgeous.” I laughed. She was always telling me she wished that she had my pale skin and blonde hair. I was always thinking that I’d trade my soul for her pretty olive skin and jet black hair. I guess you always want what you don’t have. “Come on,” I said, picking up one of her bags. “Let’s go get you settled at the apartment and then we’ll go get some dinner.” “Good, I’m starving,” she said. I laughed again. She was always starving. Maybe that’s why her boobs were so big. She didn’t really have any other evidence of it on her body. After we dropped off her bags and I gave her the two-cent tour of my humble little abode, I drove us downtown to a seafood restaurant I’d been hearing good things about. It

was before the dinner rush so we were seated right away. We ordered a pitcher of pomegranate margaritas and launched right into conversation, gossip, and giggles like we’d just seen each other hours before. “So, Laura hooked up with Robert Black. Do you remember him?” “The guy who worked at Lowe’s?” “Yes!” “Isn’t he married?” “Yes! And, he has like four kids, I think.” “Wow, what is Laura thinking?” I should call her and say, “Hello pot, this is kettle, I’m black.” “I think she was drunk the first time. She told me that she ran into him at Adolph’s, the bar out on the Interstate. She knew him, kind of, from church of all places…” She must have noticed my face and realized what she’d said. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!” I gave her a nervous laugh and the wave of my palm. “Please, don’t walk on eggshells with me. Go on.” “Okay, so anyways, she said she gave him a blow job in the parking lot that night-” “Oh my God! She just told you that?” I don’t know why I was surprised. Nothing shocks Carla, and she’s the kind of person that people want to tell everything to. She giggled. “Yeah, she was disappointed because she said he came in her mouth and then all she got in return was a quick fingering and a ‘thanks.’” “Wow, what a jerk!” I was also thinking, “What a ho!” But honestly, who was I to judge? “That’s not all. I guess she runs into him a few weeks later at the IHOP, only he’s not

alone. He’s with his wife and 12 kids.” “I thought you said he had four kids?” “Twelve, four…what the hell is the difference? I’d be willing to bet that four can easily feel like 12. Do you want to hear the story or not?” I laughed and told her to go on. The waiter came over to get our orders and once he was gone, Carla continued, “So he corners her by the bathrooms and begs her not to tell his wife. She said she wasn’t planning on it…but she hadn’t been able to get his huge package off her mind. So she tells him to meet her at her place that night and they can ‘talk’ about it. “Well, he shows up and they don’t talk. They don’t use a condom, either. So guess whose gonna have another kid?” “Oh! Poor Laura!” “Yeah well, she should know better, right?” I thought about Jace and I. Of course he hadn’t had any condoms handy that night. Why would a priest need them? It’s good and bad. Good because I at least knew he wasn’t ready to screw on demand and bad because I was so drunk I let him screw me without a condom. Leave it to me to get pregnant my first time out. I really am the kettle calling the pot black though, because the next thing I said was, “Yeah, you would think she would know better. So does his wife know now?” “Not so far, but I’m watching the drama unfold. I don’t think Laura will sit back quietly and raise the baby alone, so the wife will find out soon enough. I’ve been going to church every Sunday, hoping it’ll happen there.” “Carla!”

She laughed. “It’s the only excitement we have in our stupid neighborhood, don’t deny me. If it happens somewhere else, I’ll have to hear about it second hand and I’ll never get all of the details.” I just laughed and shook my head at her. She took a sip of her drink and said, “So what’s new with you?” “Let’s keep talking about you,” I told her with a grin. “I’ll need another margarita or two before it’s my turn. Tell me about the new boyfriend.” Her face brightened visibly as she said, “Baby girl, this one is it! I’m telling you, he is the sweetest man in the world. He has a real job. He has his own place. He’s never been married, no kids. He’s hot to look at and an animal in the sack!” I was laughing again. “He sounds perfect. I can’t wait to meet him.” “He does sound perfect, doesn’t he? At first, I was suspicious. I mean, you know me. I don’t date perfect. I date weirdos who live in mom and dad’s basement and freaks with deviant sexual fetishes.” “Really? Who had a deviant sexual fetish?” “Al, remember? The salesman who comes into the diner a couple times a month?” “Al? The really nice-looking guy who wears the expensive business suits?” “Yeah, that’s the one.” “You didn’t tell me you went out with him.” “Really? Maybe that’s because we only had two dates. The second one ended with us in bed and me getting the hell out of there as fast as I could.” “I’m afraid to ask…” “He had two dogs. He loved them both very much…very, very much.” She was curling her lip. I was awfully naïve, so it took me a minute

“You mean he wanted you to…you and the dogs?” “Yeah, sickening, isn’t it? He thought I would want to be a part of that sick love triangle. I told him I hope one of them bites it off…and then I ran like hell. He hasn’t come back in the diner, thank God! Man I tell you, Daph, I can sure pick ‘em.” “You do have a history,” I said with a wink. “But the one you have now is good, so you must be getting better.” “True, Levi is incredible. He makes me feel so special and nobody has ever satisfied me sexually the way he does. Girl, he can go all night. I’m screaming out with my fourth or fifth orgasm before he finally comes. By that time, I’m delirious.” I had no idea what having sex all night would be like, but I smiled and acted like I was impressed. The waiter brought our meals when she was talking about having four or five orgasms. He grinned and practically had his tongue hanging out when he asked her boobs if he could get them anything else. She said, “Hey. buddy! I’m up here.” He looked at her face and turned red. Carla winked at him and said, “I think we’re good, but we’ll yell out your name if we need you…Carl.” She said “Carl” in a breath sigh. I think I could see his erection sprout. I couldn’t help it, I giggled. Carl turned bright red and scurried away. “Carla!” I said, laughing. “Well, if he can’t take it, he shouldn’t be staring at my boobs. You need your big boy pants on to stare at these babies.” We both laughed at that and then while we ate, she said, “Okay now, it’s your turn. You’re holding out on me. How’s the priest?” “Shh!” Carla had no idea how loud she talks, and she learned nothing from the waiter that just overheard her. I looked around to make sure the people at the other tables weren’t listening and I said, “Call him Jace here, please.”

She rolled her eyes and in an exaggerated whisper, she said, “Okay, how is Jace?” Then, in another exaggerated whisper, she said, “The priest,” and she cackled. She cracks herself up. “He’s fine, I guess.” I took a deep breath and continued, “He’s just way too hot to be a… Well, you know…” “A priest?” she said. “Carla!” “I’m sorry, it’s so much dirtier that way.” “Forget it, I’m not telling you.” “Oh come on, you big baby. I’m kidding. What happened since I talked to you last?” Still sulking, I said, “He came over to my apartment and apologized.” “Well that’s good — anti-climactic, but good, right?” I nodded and she went on to ask, “Did you accept his apology, or did you jump his hot, holy bones?” “Carla!” Laughing, she said, “Oh, you know I’m kidding. I’m worried about you, though. When you talk about him, you get this tone in your voice and now I can see the look in your eyes… You’ve got it bad for him, honey. You should never lose your virginity to a one-night stand. It’s too much pressure.” “I don’t have ‘feelings’ for him. I barely know him. Maybe what you see is passionate anger. I’m angry with him over this whole thing, and I’m angry with myself. I do not ‘have it bad’ for him.” I stopped talking because she was grinning from ear to ear. “What are you smiling about?” “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much. This is me, honey. I’m not going to judge

you.” I realized she was right. If there was one person on this earth who wouldn’t judge me, it was Carla. I really needed to talk about this to someone. I couldn’t even confess it properly to my priest, so I said, “Okay, maybe I fell for him a little…but it’s mostly lust. I don’t know enough about him otherwise to form an opinion — except the priest part and you know what my opinion is of that.” I took a big drink of my margarita and refilled my glass. Then, I just blurted out, “I can’t stop thinking about him. I even dream about him at night. The dreams are…well, let’s just say if they were movies, they’d be rated X. “God has to be up there just shaking His head at me…at both of us. I keep hoping that my good Catholic behavior for the past 22 years will be enough to save my soul over this.” Carla wiggled her eyebrows. “So, you want to tell me about these X-rated dreams?” I narrowed my eyes at her and she said, “Oh, honey, please stop being your own worst enemy! I don’t think you’ll be held accountable for every little slip-up. You’re a good person. You’ve been a good Catholic, better than most I know. You haven’t killed anyone or hurt anyone. “I’m pretty sure that God has already forgiven you. He knows what you’ve been through, and I don’t believe He would deny you a night of reckless abandon.” Her words warmed my heart. I didn’t believe them, though. She loved me and was just trying to make me feel better, but that was nice. I was already sure that I could count on going straight to hell, but it was nice to know my best friend thought otherwise. “There’s more,” I said, curling my lip. Confessing to my priest wasn’t a good option; I needed to tell someone what I’d done.

“More? You had sex with him again?” her eyes were shining like that would be a good thing. I shook my head at her and said, “No, but I almost did. I need a big, fat, scarlet S to wear on my chest.” It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever — you’re so dramatic. You turned him down this time. There has to be some points in there for you, right?” I fingered the side of my glass and wondered if I really wanted to admit my shame aloud. Finally, I said, “Um…probably not. I’m the one that came onto him. He turned me down. It was so humiliating.” Carla was laughing so hard that she choked on her drink. The waiter she embarrassed earlier even came over to see if she was okay. I wanted to choke her myself. When she finally finished laughing, she said, “You go, Daph! Give the girl a taste of some man candy and she can’t get enough!” In spite of myself, I smiled. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had that thought myself. I loved that crazy girl, but it really wasn’t helping me to talk about it. “Why don’t we change the subject?” I said. She didn’t look like she wanted to, but she kindly agreed, “Okay…so what are we going to do this weekend?” “I’m afraid we’re not in the big city anymore. There’s not a lot to do here; there are a few local bars, no big clubs, and there is a canoeing trip with the church tomorrow. It’s in Boston at the harbor. We can drive or take the church bus.” Carla curled her lip. “All church people?” “I do think that’s what I mean by ‘a church trip.’” “Will Father Hot Pants be there?” “Stop it, Carla! Just calling him that is a sin. But yes, I imagine he will be. Last I

heard, there were going to be about 60 people there, though. I’m sure we could manage to not even have to talk to him. It’s something to do, but if you don’t want to…” She got a sly smile on her face, and I knew what she was thinking. She wanted a look at Jace. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. Let’s do it. I don’t want to ride on the bus with the churchy people, though. You know my mouth can’t be still for that long. And, it’s not like they’re going to make me sit through mass, right?” “No, you only do that when you’re hoping for a dramatic scene between a married man, his wife, and his lover.” She picked up her margarita and said, “Here, here!” with a grin. She has no shame. It’s part of why I love her so much. I used to want to live vicariously through her. Lately, I’m living more on the edge than she does.

Chapter Twenty-One Jace It was a gorgeous day for canoeing. The weather was in the low 80s and the humidity was low; I woke up feeling better than I had since the day I found out that Grandma died. Part of it was that canoeing was something that my brothers, my grandmother, and I all enjoyed and did together every chance we got. I love the Boston Harbor Islands. They’re great for camping, hiking, or just taking a day trip like we were that day. I showed up early to World’s End where we would begin our trip. The church allowed me to use their large pick-up truck and trailer to bring up the boats and the other equipment we were going to need for our day trip. I stood in the center of the park and took in a deep breath of the dewy morning air. The place was such a gem. World’s End is a park that’s part of the Boston Harbor Islands. It’s lovely just to walk through and there’s usually more than one artist with their easels set up, painting the gorgeous landscape of the harbor with the blue sky in the background. I looked at my watch. It was still about an hour before everyone else was scheduled to start showing up. I started to unload the truck and I’d only gotten one boat out and dragged down to the water when my phone rang. It was Ryan. “Hey, little bro; what’s up?” “That’s what I want to know,” he said. “You dropped a couple of bombs on us the day we had lunch and then took off. I’ve tried to call you three times since. What gives?”

“Um…I really don’t have time right now…” “Nope, no way. You’re not going to hang up on me and then not take my calls again for over a week. You said you got drunk and had sex. I want details.” “Jesus, Ryan, I never should have said that.” “Why? Is it not true?” “No, it’s true…scary true.” “Shit! My brother the priest is getting more action than me!” he laughed. This is exactly why he is the wrong person for me to talk to about it. He’s going to act like it’s a good thing. “Ryan, this isn’t funny. This is worse than if I had a spouse and I cheated on her. I broke my vows to God and the Catholic Church.” “Okay, you’re upset about it, I hear you. But Jace, here’s the deal: you’ve spent your whole life doing what everyone else thinks you’re supposed to do. You chose to be a priest because it’s what Grandma wanted you to do. You were the only one of us who is good enough and she knew it.” “No Rye, it wasn’t about Grandma. It was a calling and I believed…I believe in it. I made a horrible mistake, and I just don’t want to talk about it like it’s a notch in my bedpost the way it would be for you or for Max.” “I’m sorry, okay? But I can hear in your voice that you’re torn up about this. You always shut us out and act like you have to deal with everything on your own. You have me and Max — you don’t have to struggle through this by yourself.” I heard my name being called out. I looked around and saw Lily coming towards me. “Hey, Rye, I really have to go. I will call you tonight, okay?”

“Promise?” Sometimes he was such a child. “I promise. I love you, man.” “I love you, too. You better call me or I’m going to drive over there and kick your pacifist ass.” I laughed and hung up. If Ryan and I ever got into a fist fight, and that was less than likely, I’d be the one kicking butt. I looked back up at Lily. She was wearing cut-off jean shorts and a short pair of brown leather hiking boots. Her t-shirt was simple, but it fit her perfectly to show off her womanly curves. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail and a pair of giant, Jackie O’ sunglasses on. She looked gorgeous, and my body responded. I can’t believe this. All of a sudden I’m acting like a damned man. What the hell is wrong with me? “Hey, Lily! You’re early.” “Am I?” she said. It was just after six a.m. I was sure I told her seven. The sun was barely up. “Yeah, but that’s okay. I’m glad I’m here, so you aren’t out here alone.” She came over to me and gave me a hug. That didn’t help my body’s response any, especially because she seemed to hang on a little longer than she should have and, if I’m not mistaken, pressed her chest into mine. “I was just getting the boats unloaded,” I told her. “It’s so pretty here,” she observed, looking around at the verdant green grass and the lush umbrella of leafy green trees above our heads. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorite spots. When I was younger, I would come here with my brothers and Grandma and we’d kayak or canoe or just take a hike and look at the views. There are some stunning ones here and also on the island we’ll end up on.”

“Where are we canoeing to today?” “We’ll start here and end on Bumpkin Island. I’ve arranged for lunch to be brought out there to us, so we’ll eat and then I have a boat coming to pick everyone up and bring them back here.” “I heard Bumpkin Island is haunted,” she said, grabbing the other end of the canoe I was carrying and helping me take it down near the water. God help me, but I was watching her breasts bounce as we did. Am I completely ruined now because I got one taste of sex? It was such a good taste, and maybe that was the problem. Sometimes I wish I had been too drunk to remember. “What do you think?” she asked. “About?” I wasn’t paying attention to a word she said. She laughed. “What do you think about the island being haunted?” “Oh, yeah. I’m not one of those people who worry about things like that. There’s a ton of history there, and if you talk to the old Native Americans, they’ll tell you it’s haunted. I don’t think it’s haunted by anything evil, though. I always get a real sense of peace when I’m there. You can ride in my boat. I have holy water.” She laughed, “Agreed.” We put that boat down and went up to get another. As we stepped up a relatively steep embankment, she reached out and grabbed my hand. I held onto her and helped her the rest of the way up to where the truck was and then reluctantly let her hand go. Maybe that’s all it is with me, lately. Maybe I’m not craving sex as much as I am human contact. That would make me less creepy, I think. “Is the water really cold?” she asked. “Not this time of year,” I told her. “It’s not warm, but it’s definitely not frigid. My brothers and I used to swim in it when we came out during the summer.” “How are your brothers?” My brothers never liked Lily. Neither did my Grandmother.

They all thought she was too fast for me and were afraid she’d break my heart. It turned out I was the one that broke hers. “They’re doing well, I guess. Max is doing well. He’s always been the most likely to succeed, though. Ryan is a little lost…more so now without Grandma. Hopefully, he’ll grow up soon. If not, I might have to adopt him and let him live on my couch.” She laughed. I couldn’t help but look at her and wonder how different my life would be if she and I had never broken up. Would we be married now? Would we have children? Or would I be the man she divorced? I pondered that while we finished taking the boats down and I’d just grabbed her hand again to help her up the incline when I saw another car arriving. I let go of her hand quickly…too quickly. She stumbled and almost fell backwards. I reached out and caught her in my arms.

Chapter Twenty-Two Daphne The first thing I saw as we stepped out of the car at World’s End was Jace…with a beautiful woman in his arms. What the hell? Is he a serial seducer of good Catholic women or what? He saw me about the same time and let go of the woman. I was hoping he would drop her. I had no idea where this nasty side of me came from. I looked up and was glad to see that the bus from the church and a couple of other cars were arriving just behind us. Besides the fact that I thought he wouldn’t touch the woman so much in front of witnesses, I wasn’t really sure what to say to him. I was hoping to be able to avoid him all together, if I could. At least I wanted to avoid conversation with him — I was looking forward to looking at him. “I’ve lived in Boston my entire life and I’ve never been here. It takes a trip to Lexington to get me out here; go figure,” Carla said. I’d had the same thought myself. Of course, my childhood wasn’t really conducive to a lot of sightseeing trips. “I’ve never been here, either,” I said. “It’s so pretty, it kind of takes your breath away.” Carla’s eyes had landed on something else: Jace. I could see that predatory look she gets in her eye as she said, “It sure does.” I wanted to warn her who he was, but he was upon us before I got the chance. “Daphne, I’m so glad you made it; and I see you brought a friend.” “Carla Rossi,” she said with her sexiest smile as she tossed her black hair over one

shoulder. I rolled my eyes. He held out his hand and she took it. I waited. “It’s lovely to meet you, Carla, I’m Father Jace.” If this wasn’t my screwed-up life, the look on her face would be hilarious. Her jaw was scraping the ground and before Jace figured out it was because she knew we had sex, I interrupted. “We’re happy to be here, Father. It’s so beautiful.” Jace’s eyes left Carla’s stunned face and transferred over to mine. I searched his eyes for any sign that he was either thinking I was a pathetic fool or wondering about his missed opportunity. He didn’t seem to be showing signs of either. He was acting like everything was… normal. I was not sure what to make of that. Was it normal to him? Wouldn’t that be so wrong? “We’ve got enough canoes for two to each boat. Most of them are already down by the harbor. Do you two feel confident enough to do this on your own?” “I don’t know if we’re really strong enough,” Carla started. She’s incorrigible. “We’ll be fine,” I said with my teeth grit in her direction. She smiled. I am so going to kick her ass. “Okay then, just grab which one you want and when we take off, we’ll all follow each other. We’ll have some time to explore Bumpkin Island before lunch. It’s a great place, if you’ve never been there.” “Okay, thanks.” He smiled again. God, he’s so beautiful. I watched him walk away to go greet the rest of the canoe party and I actually forgot Carla was there until she said, “Whoa…he’s hot! I wish I was screwing a priest.” “Carla!” I tried to act shocked, but I had to smile. She’s too much, but no one can ever accuse her of not speaking her mind. I wished I was more like her, sometimes. Most of the

time, actually. “Come on, let’s get a boat.” As we walked down towards the edge of the water she said, “He’s good.” “What do you mean?” “I got no indication the two of you had sex from him. He’s good. I wonder how many other women he’s seduced.” She let that hang in the air. I’d had the same thought, but I didn’t want to say it aloud. That might make it real. We picked out one of the canoes and dragged it off to the side. I was on the side facing up the hill and I could see Jace. He was talking to the hot woman in the cut-offs. She had a radiant smile as she looked at his face. She kept touching him on the arm as they talked, and whatever he was saying must have been hilarious because she kept tossing her head back and laughing out loud. Or maybe she was just flirting and liked to toss her long, dark hair. She would be a brunette. It was further proof that I’d just been a fluke because he was drunk and I wasn’t his usual type. I felt the twinge of jealousy in the pit of my stomach, although I knew in my heart that was just one more sin to add to the trail I was leaving of them lately. “Hey! I’m talking to you,” I heard Carla say. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” She shook her head. “Baby girl, we all fall in love with our first. You won’t ever forget him and you might even be a little bit in love with him forever, but it doesn’t mean he’s the right one for you. He’s super-hot and I’d do him, but, baby girl, you’ve got a conscience like no one else I know. It would eat you alive. Get over him and find a real man that you can be with and not feel bad about, okay?” I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. I knew she was right, not that he’s not a “real”

man, he is…most definitely. But, I know what she meant. He’s not available and he never will be. I didn’t really even know him. What I did know wasn’t good. He was worse than a guy who cheats on his wife or girlfriend. He cheated on God. He took vows and he broke them at least once. I should walk away quickly, lesson learned. I glanced back over to where he and the pretty woman were getting their boat ready to go into the water. If I knew he was so bad for me, then why did my chest fill with want and need every time I looked at him? Hopefully, Carla was right and it’s just because he was my first. That infatuation would have to fade with time…wouldn’t it?

Chapter Twenty-Three Jace After I made sure the rest of our group all had their canoes and each boat had at least one person in it who knew what they were doing, I put ours into the water and stepped in. Then, I reached out my hand and helped Lily step in. As I did that my eyes caught Daphne’s. She was watching us. I made sure not to let go so quickly that Lily fell down again, but I didn’t hold onto her too long. I wondered what was going on behind Daphne’s blue eyes. Was she wondering if I slept with Lily, too? I wondered if I cared because I had to be careful, or because I didn’t want Daphne to think I wanted someone else. “Okay, so do you want to paddle, too, or—” Lily jerked the paddle from my hand with a snort. “Are you insinuating I’m not capable of paddling? Do you remember summer camp, sophomore year?” I smiled. I did remember it. That was one of my favorite summers ever. We were sophomores in high school and we’d been dating for about six months at that time. That was a church trip, too. We canoed and hiked and had a campfire every night. It was a great time. It was the first time I told Lily that I loved her, too. It was kind of a serious topic to get into right then, so trying to lighten the mood I said, “I remember. I remember that I brought two whole bags of marshmallows and you burnt them all to a crisp.”

Laughing at the memory, she said, “That’s the only way to eat a marshmallow! Those white squishy things are disgusting. But when you make them all black and crunchy… mmm, like heaven. They melt in your mouth.” I rolled my eyes. “I like the puffy white goodness,” I told her. “Do you remember that little cave we found?” “Yeah,” I said, softly. “We carved our names into the wall.” She was purposely trying to take me back to the feelings I had for her. I wondered why. “It was where you first told me you loved me.” I nodded. “Yeah, I was so nervous about that. I wanted to tell you for weeks, but I was scared to death you would think that I was rushing things and I’d scare you away.” As I recalled those times, the feelings I had for her seemed to be rushing back. Was that what she was looking for? Obviously, I didn’t still love her, but I could remember the feel and the taste of her lips the first time we kissed…and how badly I wanted to make love to her, even though it went against everything I believed in at that time. I couldn’t help but wonder how I went from an idealistic young man that was so strong in his faith that he could turn down temptation to the point of losing his girlfriend who also happened to be his best friend…to a priest who had sex with a stranger. And now, looking at Lily, I was wondering what it might be like to have sex with her. Jesus, I’m a mess. “It didn’t scare me,” she said. “I wanted to hear it, so bad. I already knew I loved you. You were hard to get over, Jace.” She looked sad, and I got that old familiar rush of feelings I used to get each time I told her that I wouldn’t compromise my beliefs and have sex with her. “I’m sorry, Lily. I truly am. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I was so confused back then. I felt the calling, but I

also felt so much for you. It was a daily struggle, trust me.” She sucked in a deep breath and said, “You know what? Let’s not talk about that today. It’s so pretty out here. Let’s stick to remembering the good times…like that time we went swimming at midnight in the Charles River?” That one was like a zinger, straight to the libido that was already stretched almost to its limits. I really thought she was doing it on purpose. “Yeah, that was another unforgettable trip. If I recall, one of us went skinny dipping that night.” “It would have been two of us, if one of us hadn’t been so stubborn.” I grinned. “It was damned tempting…which was exactly what you were going for.” She stopped paddling and leaned in close to my face. For a second, I thought she might kiss me. I had to wonder why I was just sitting there, waiting for it. She didn’t kiss me, but she was definitely flirting as she said, “You’re right; I was like Eve trying to tempt Adam into taking a bite of the apple. I wanted you so badly… I would have done just about anything to get you to make love to me.” My blood felt like it had been heated to the boiling point. My heart was hammering against the inside wall of my chest. I could feel sweat accumulating across my brow, and things that shouldn’t be rising, were nearing half-mast. I could barely breathe until she finally sat back in her seat and began paddling again. I wanted to close my eyes and pray. I needed some kind of guidance here, and I needed so much more strength if I was going to keep resisting temptation. I wondered if this was a test. Is the Lord testing my faith? Have I already failed in my carnal thoughts alone? I had repented over sleeping with Daphne, but my thoughts had remained impure

since that night and God knows what those are, even if no one else does. I’d dreamt of Daphne every night, and I thought about her at least 20 times a day. Not even Lily ever had that kind of effect on me. I glanced around at the people who had come out for the trip. They all looked up to me, they respected me, and they expected me to be who I was supposed to be. They expected me to be pure enough to lead them, but instead, I was leading at least one of them, astray. Ryan was right about one thing: I always tried to be what others wanted me to be. I always felt like I was failing miserably, too. My eyes found Daphne. She and her friend were talking and laughing as they paddled. Something about her tugged at me deep in my soul. It wasn’t sex…or at least it wasn’t “just” sex. There was something in her eyes that reminded me of myself. That lost part of my soul that was aching to belong, but suspecting that I never would. “Hey! Did you hear me?” Lily was looking at me strangely. “No, I’m sorry. I was going over next Sunday’s sermon in my head.” I’d have to do one about fidelity so that I wasn’t both lying and having sex. Oh hell, I’d already been lying…about having sex. What a freaking mess. “What did you say?” Focus, Jace! “Just that I missed those times we used to have. I miss my best friend. I haven’t had one since that I was able to talk to and had so much fun with.” I smiled. “I feel the same way.” That part was true. She was my friend, and we did have a great time together. “The hardest part about losing you was losing that closeness we always just seemed to have right from the beginning.” She put her hand on my arm in a “friendly” gesture…and then she stroked my skin with her thumb and said, “I’d really like to have some of those good times again.” That

touch crossed the line between friendly and flirty.

Chapter Twenty-Four Daphne “Who do you think she is?” I couldn’t stop watching Jace with that woman. It was like rubber-necking a wreck on the freeway. Carla rolled her eyes. “I thought you were going to forget about him.” “I will…tomorrow. Who do you think she is? Maybe she’s his sister.” I was actually hoping that wasn’t true. That would just be gross. Carla laughed at that. “Now you’re just trying to fool yourself. Come on, you know she’s not acting at all ‘sisterly.’” Right. I knew that. “No, but he’s not acting ‘fatherly,’ either. Look at them, laughing like two kids. She’s still touching him with every other word, too. Jeez, this is a church trip, get a grip!” “It’s a good thing you look good in green, girl.” “I’m not jealous.” “Yes, you are. Let it go, baby girl. You’re going to get hurt.” “I’m letting it go. I’m just curious about the company my priest is keeping, that’s all.” “You’re a terrible liar.” I looked back at Jace. She’s right. I am lying through my teeth. I’m so jealous of the woman with Jace I can hardly see straight.

God, I have to get over him. If he’s seducing women, it’ll come out and there will be a scandal. I don’t want to be a part of that. That’s the last thing I need. I need to put distance between myself and him before that happens… And before my heart explodes because right now, it feels like it’s going to. “Oh my God! Daph! We’re going to hit the rocks!” Carla screamed at me, and I looked over my shoulder. There was a clump of big rocks that I hadn’t even seen. I’d been too busy mooning over Jace. Is this my punishment? I’m going to die in the Boston Harbor so God can judge me to my face? I got a grip at last and said, “Quick! Paddle left, Carla!” She started paddling frantically, and so did I. Our screams had drawn the attention of the rest of the canoers and I saw Jace paddling furiously towards us. He’d taken the paddle away from his girl and looked frantic. “We’re going to hit them!” Carla yelled. “Let go of your paddles and hang on,” I told her. “What about you?” “Just do it!” Carla put her paddle down and grabbed onto the seat with two hands. My plan was to use my paddle to push off against the rocks and keep us from hitting them. It was a decent plan…I thought. My paddle made contact and for just a second I thought it was going to work…right up until the paddle skimmed across the top of the stone and the boat slammed into the rocks anyways. As I was sailing through the air, I was praying that I’d at least miss the rocks. Luckily, God was listening. I hit the water with a huge splash. My life jacket made it kind of like hitting a wall, though, and I bobbed and weaved along the surface, getting

caught up in the current right away. I heard Carla yelling my name and I heard another splash, but I was too busy trying to find something to grab onto to pay much attention to it. I didn’t know that Jace had jumped in the water after me until I felt his strong arms circle my waist from behind. “I got you, Daphne. Don’t struggle, okay?” His lips were close to my ear—and believe it or not, even in the midst of the chaos and the chilly water, I was turned on. I had to wonder what kind of spell this man had me under. If he kissed me right there, I wouldn’t protest. “I’m going to move my legs,” he told me. His breath was warm and it almost felt like he was touching my ear with his lips on purpose. “Move yours with me, okay?” I couldn’t speak. God, I’m a mess. I want him to kiss me right here…right before we drown. I nodded. He moved his legs, and I moved mine. As they brushed against each other under the water, it reminded me of that night and the way our legs met each time he thrust forward and buried himself inside of me. I shuddered and God help me, I pushed my body back into him a little bit tighter. I loved the way his body felt against mine. I’d been craving it. It took a while, but we made it to the boats finally. Carla was practically hysterical. “Jeez, you just about gave me a heart attack! What if you had hit those rocks when you flew out? You could have been killed!” She had tears in her eyes. It took a lot to get Carla that upset. I felt bad. “I’m okay, Carla. I’m sorry I scared you.” “You’re damned right you scared me!” She realized she’d just cussed in front of a priest and looked at Jace. “Sorry, Father.” He smiled. “It’s okay; you’re entitled to be worried about your friend.”

“Are you okay, Jace?” the woman in his boat spoke up. I’d almost forgotten about her. “I’m good, Lily.” “Can I help you in?” She just wanted to touch him again. I don’t like her. “You know what? Since Daphne and I are both soaking wet, we should just take the same boat. The water will pool up in the bottom and there’s no sense in the two of you getting all wet, too. I’m not certain how many sets of extra clothes the volunteers collected to bring.” I looked at Carla. She was trying to suppress a smile. I gave her a warning look. Then, I looked at the woman in Jace’s boat. She wasn’t smiling. That made me smile. I’m a terrible person. She was thinking Jace wanted to be with me. I was hoping for the same. “That sounds like a smart idea,” Carla said. She stood up and while Jace held onto the other boat, she stepped into it. He looked at his “friend” then and said, “We’ll see you ladies on the other side.” She smiled, but it looked forced. Carla started paddling. She was still grinning. For a girl who told me I should give up on the priest, she sure was happy to give us room to be together. Jace helped me up into the canoe and then I grabbed his arm and helped pull him in, as well. For a few seconds, we just sat there looking at each other. Finally I said, “Thank you for saving me.” My teeth were chattering together. I was cold, but I was also nervous. Jace grinned. “You’re welcome. I’m sure you would have been okay. It’s hard to move around in these life jackets sometimes, but they’ll keep you bobbing down the harbor all day.” “I appreciate it anyways,” I said, picking up the oars. “I didn’t really want to bob down the harbor all day.” He was giving me a strange look. I realized he was looking at

the oars in my hands. “I don’t think so.” He was grinning. “You don’t think so, what?” He didn’t want me to row the boat. Man, you make one mistake… “I’ll row, thanks. Not that I don’t trust you…” I laughed. “Seriously?” He didn’t answer me with words. Instead, he reached over and plucked the oars out of my hands with a grin and began to row. After a bit, just to break the awkward silence I said, “I’m sorry you got all soaking wet.” “It’s really okay, Daphne. The church has a big wicker basket full of donated clothes that they told me we take to all of our functions, just in case. We can grab some of those and hang these up to dry while we have lunch. It’ll be fine.” I was right on the verge of asking him about his friend. Thankfully, I caught myself. That would have been way too familiar. We had a one-night stand that really, really, never should have happened. I have to stop this and get him out of my head. I shivered again as I watched him rowing the boat in his wet t-shirt and jeans. The tshirt clung to his chest and abs, and his biceps flexed and tensed as he rowed us to shore and I was reminded of the way they’d tensed and flexed when he held himself up over me and…

Chapter Twenty-Five Jace “Jace!” Lily was waving at me from shore as we rowed in. Daphne’s friend Carla was standing next to her and looking at Lily like she was crazy. Lily was waving like she hadn’t seen me in weeks. It had literally only been minutes. I guessed that’s why she was getting the look from Carla. I waved back as I waded out of the boat into the water and started to pull it the rest of the way up to shore. Suddenly, Daphne was beside me. “You should have stayed in the boat. I would have done this.” She smiled. She has a beautiful smile. I’d made myself keep my eyes trained on her face the whole time. They really wanted to go to her chest. That tight, little t-shirt was soaked and clinging to her body. The water was cold, so her nipples were hard and pressing hard against her bra and t-shirt so that if I looked right at them, I could almost visualize the entire outline. Look at her face, Jace. That didn’t help a lot. Her pretty blonde hair was wet and stuck to her face in places. I was incredibly tempted to reach over and tuck one of those long strands behind her ear. Temptation was killing me. I wished the Lord would tell me what He expected me to do already, so we could move on. We got the canoe up out of the water and suddenly, Lily was also by my side. “Are you okay?” she asked me.

She was touching my arm again, rubbing her hand up and down. I took a step away. What part of “You’re hitting on a priest in front of the entire congregation” was hard for her? I smiled as I stepped away to ease it a bit and I said, “I’m fine, Lily. I really am. Daphne and I need to go find some dry things and change. Can you do me a favor?” “Of course.” She glanced at Daphne with a smug look. Can women sense competition or am I that obvious when I look at Daphne? “The rest of the boats will be coming in one after the other here. Can you ask a few of the guys to stand by and help whoever needs it get their boats up to the shore and maybe two or three of the ladies to start lunch?” “I can do that,” Lily said with a smile. Now I noticed that Daphne was looking at her with curiosity; I was willing to bet that she thought I was sleeping with her. Once a fallen priest… I supposed I deserved whatever it was that she was thinking of me. I was still praying that she would choose to keep it between us. I knew that one day I’d have to answer for my sins, but I’d like for that to be in the face of God and Jesus Christ and not the faces of my entire congregation. “Come on, Daphne, I’ll show you where the clothes are.” I tried calling myself a sick pervert and remembering my vows of chastity that I had taken, but God, she looked so hot in that wet t-shirt. How am I not supposed to look at her? Yes, I’m a priest, but I’m also a man. If she was in a club right now and they were having a contest, she’d win it, hands down. The cut-off jeans already looked hot. Her legs were long and lean and tanned…too much good stuff to look at and I shouldn’t have been looking at any of it. I especially

shouldn’t have been sporting the erection that I was desperately trying to hide. But I was still a man, right? “This wicker trunk has the ladies clothes in it. The men’s are on the other side. We can change in the bathroom and hang ours out somewhere to dry while we have lunch,” I told her. She smiled. She was so pretty. “Okay, thank you,” she said. She lifted the lid on the basket. When she looked back up at me nervously a few seconds later, I realized that I was still standing there, staring at her beautiful backside. I felt my face go hot. She blushed, too. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” I said. Shaking my head at myself internally, I went around to the other side of the little wooden building. I opened the men’s trunk and pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I took them into the little building where the bathroom was. I stripped off my wet clothes with Daphne still on my mind. My erection got larger and I felt guiltier. I wondered if God would hold my thoughts against me, as well as my actions. I wanted to touch myself, but at least I resisted that. I wanted to picture her in that wet t-shirt while I masturbated, but that in itself was another sin. I physically shook myself and went over to the sink and grabbed a few paper towels to dry myself off. As I was dabbing under my arms, I heard a creaking sound. I turned around and me and my erection were staring at Daphne’s shocked face. Jesus, I’m glad I wasn’t touching myself. Her eyes automatically fell to my throbbing organ and seemed to stick there. That didn’t help the state I was in at all. The whole thing only took seconds, but it seemed like hours before my brain kicked in and I grabbed the shirt and held it in front of me and Daphne’s wide eyes found my face.

“I’m so sorry! The door was unlocked…” Her face was bright red as she turned and raced out the door. Jesus, could this mess get any worse? Cursing my luck, or wondering if it was luck or another test by God, I hurried and got dressed. This was only going to make things more uncomfortable between Daphne and me. The poor girl already acted like she didn’t know what to say to me and she was a nervous wreck any time we were alone together. I need to talk to her. When I got out to the picnic area, I saw that a lot of the boats were coming in and a few people were already walking over. Daphne was sitting alone at one of the tables. I took a deep breath and started towards her. Just as I did, Lily called out my name. I turned and saw her and Daphne’s friend struggling to get one of the canoes in. It had been manned by an elderly couple who wanted their own boat, but the Mr. is almost 80 and his wife probably weighs about 90 pounds. I looked back at Daphne. She was looking at me. I gave her a little smile and she smiled back, nervously. Our talk would have to wait until later, but I was convinced it had to happen. This…whatever it was that I felt for her, was getting out of hand. I turned and went back over to help pull the boat in. “Nice shirt,” Lily said with a giggle as I walked up. I grabbed the canoe out of her hands and pulled on it. I heard Daphne’s friend giggle, too. I guessed the two made friends. After I got the boat in I looked down to see what they found so amusing. My shirt, or the one I’d borrowed, was inside out and it stopped about a half an inch above the waist of my borrowed shorts. I looked like I was wearing a crop top. I had been so nervous after Daphne walked in on me that I didn’t even pay attention to how ridiculous I looked. Now, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

Shaking my head, I looked at Lily and said, “I think I’ll go pick out another shirt. Would you mind helping with the plates until I get over there?” “Not at all,” she said. She touched my arm again as she went by and looked at me flirtatiously as she dragged her fingers seductively across my bicep. Daphne’s friend Carla was watching us and then her eyes cut over towards where her friend sat. Son of a…she knows. Daphne had to have told her and now she was worried about her friend. Dear God, now I had to worry that another person is going to say something to someone.

Chapter Twenty-Six Jace Jace looked like he was about to come over and talk to me before that woman called out to him. She was awfully possessive of his time and I wondered if she annoyed him as much as she did me. I wondered how many times she’d seen him naked. And, what was up with Carla being all giggly with her? Was it ridiculous that I felt betrayed by both of them? I sighed. Of course, it was. I was ridiculous…the entire situation was ridiculous. I watched Jace help them pull the boat in. His t-shirt looked a little small. As he moved, it pulled up and from where I sat I could see a couple inches of his bare skin. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already seen plenty of his naked inches. I was still looking, anyway. I watched his “friend” touch his arm with a smile and then head over to the table where the food was. Jace went back towards the bathrooms. I wondered if he was going to change his shirt. Carla came in my direction. Nice to know she still remembers me. I’m ridiculous, I know. “Hey,” she said with a smile. “You feel better now that you’re all dried out?” “Yeah,” I said. I tried not to act like a big baby. I tried not to be mad at her. My emotions were a wreck. “The clothes fit you good. Better than the priest,” she giggled. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Wow, what do you have shoved up your butt all of a sudden?” I gave her a glare. “Nothing is up my butt, but thanks for asking.” “Are you mad at me?” I sighed, “No, I’m sorry; it’s this stupid jealousy again. You seemed so chummy with his girlfriend.” “Oh, come on!” “I know, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” Carla smiled. She really was a good friend. That quickly, I was forgiven. “It’s fun arguing with you. I forgot how much I liked it. What’s really wrong, baby girl?” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I do have something ‘up my butt.’ I just walked in on Jace in the bathroom when he was changing. He was completely nude.” “Shut up!” “No…I can’t. I just saw my priest naked…again.” Carla grinned. “How was it?” “Terrible.” “What?” she looked confused. “Not him. He’s like a sculpture or something; he’s so perfect that he makes everything in my body go crazy — everything. But, it was terrible because he had an erection and I stood there for God only knows how long, staring at it.” Carla busted up laughing. “That’s hilarious.” “No it’s not! Stop laughing. It’s horrible, Carla. This whole situation is horrible.” I was on the verge of tears. She finally stopped laughing and said,

“I’m sorry, Daph. You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s not funny because you’re so upset about it. Honey, God is going to forgive you for this…for all of it. You’ve been the best Catholic I know for as long as I’ve known you. My mother pushed me to be friends with you specifically for that reason.” “Really? We’re friends because your mother wanted us to be?” “Well, at first, but you know I grew to love you. My point is that you’re the kind of girl that mothers love and mothers don’t love just anyone.” I let my mind flit to my own mother and then I tamped it down again and said, “Just because I was good in the past, doesn’t give me a free pass to keep sinning now.” “Keep sinning? What other sins have you committed?” “I dream about him every night and wake up all sweaty and…” “Horny?” “Shut up. But yeah, I guess.” “Horny is not a sin. It’s an actual undeniable human emotion. He was obviously feeling it, too; he was sporting that big old erection because you turned him on.” “That doesn’t help me knowing that. It makes me more so. I’ve never really felt it before that night. And now, I’m a raging pervert. Then, there’s the jealousy; I’m committing that sin all over the place. This chick that’s hanging all over him, I’m so jealous of her that I can’t see straight.” “She’s his ex-” Carla started. “I’m jealous that you know that,” I told her, honestly. I was. I hated that she knew so much about the woman. I’m pathetic. Carla cracked up again. When she stopped laughing she said,

“I thought you meant you were jealous of her and Jace.” “I am, but like I said, I’m jealous that you bonded with her so fast. I feel paranoid like she’s trying to take you both from me.” Still laughing, Carla said, “Oh, baby girl. She can’t take me from you. I was stuck in a boat with her, so naturally, we talked. Her name is Lily. They dated in high school. She broke up with him and just recently ran back into him.” “Did it seem like they were sleeping together?” Shaking her head at me, Carla said, “You know, it’s hard to tell just by looking at a person.” “You know what I mean. Did she say anything that made you think they were doing the…” “The horizontal mambo? The nasty?” “Okay, never mind!” She giggled. “I’m sorry. But no, honey, she didn’t say anything to indicate that; although I’m not sure what that would be other than, “Guess what? I’m doing a priest.” “You can be so crude sometimes.” “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Come on, I’m only here for the weekend. Stop stressing and let’s have fun, okay?” I suddenly felt bad. She was right. She was here to visit me and all I was doing was commiserating over my own issues. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m going to drop it and we’re going to have fun.” My eyes cut over to where Jace and Lily were serving lunch side by side. He’d changed into a black t-shirt that fit him better, but was tight across his big chest and arms.

Nothing about him looked like a priest right then—not that it did most of the time. What is a priest doing taking that good of care of his body? Isn’t that a sin, too? Maybe not. Maybe God just wanted them to be healthy, I didn’t know. “Stop staring at him,” Carla scolded me. “At least be more subtle. All of these other churchy people are going to notice.” She lowered her voice and said, “And then, they’ll make up a story that the two of you are fucking…only it will be true.” She had a harsh way of putting it, but once again, she was right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Jace After we finished serving lunch, Lily and I fixed our own plates and sat down at one of the tables with them. Daphne’s friend had come up and got both hers and Daphne’s. The poor thing couldn’t look at me again. Some of the parishioners were playing a volleyball game and some were throwing Frisbees around. Some had just gone off to explore. I scanned the park for Daphne and finally found her and her friend. They were kicking around a soccer ball with a couple of the teenage kids who had come along. Daphne had pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail again and was smiling and laughing as they played. It was my first chance to watch her just be happy. It was nice. She was drop-dead gorgeous when she was nervous and antsy…or drunk…or angry…but happy was much nicer. Happy gave her face a softer look, and I couldn’t help but want to touch her. I could pray over it 20 times a day, but I cannot control my thoughts or my body’s reactions. Maybe I needed to accept that. Maybe concentrating on controlling my actions would save me in the end. Or maybe I should stop looking at her…and stop putting myself in situations where I know she’ll be. “Did you hear me? What are you looking at?” Lily started to look over her shoulder. “Nothing. How’s your lunch?” She looked down at her turkey sandwich and chips. With a little chuckle she said, “It’s okay. Are you?”

“I’m fine.” “You seem a little distracted,” she said. Then she thought about it and said, “No, actually you seem a lot distracted, all day. What’s going on?” “Nothing, really. I was just thinking that I should start loading things and cleaning up. We need to get out of here before sundown. The park is haunted, you know.” I grinned and she smiled. “Make fun of me all you want, but I think I felt something brush up against me earlier.” “That was just Mr. Bowers. He’s a dirty old man.” She laughed. “Stop it. Come on, I’ll help you get stuff cleaned up. Before you phased out, did you hear what I asked you?” “No, I’m sorry. What was it?” She laughed. “See what I mean? Never mind, it wasn’t important. This was a lot of fun, though. I missed you, Jace.” “I missed you, too, Lily. It’s been great catching up.” I wasn’t lying. Her constant touching me in front of my parishioners was annoying me a little bit, though. “Maybe we can do lunch or dinner?” she asked. I considered that. I just wasn’t sure how much time with her was too much. It’s not that it’s unheard of for a priest to have friends, even female friends. But generally, they’re older woman that the priest is certain he wouldn’t be physically attracted to. I already knew that wasn’t the case with Lily. But the truth was that I was sure I could control myself with Lily. The feelings I had for her weren’t like the ones I felt when I was around Daphne. It’s like the devil himself was controlling my hormones when Daphne was anywhere near my line of vision.

Speaking of which, I looked for her again. She was still playing soccer and looking way too freaking good doing it. I wondered if she was an athlete in high school. I realized Lily was still waiting for a response and I said, “Yeah, sure. Call me.” We got busy then breaking things down and loading things up. Most everyone stayed around and helped so it went quickly. I had a pontoon-type boat that I was going to take the canoes back over on and there was a larger boat to pick up everyone else and take them back to where the bus and their cars were. I said my goodbyes to most of the parishioners. I realized that Daphne was one of the ones who had gotten away. She was already on the boat. I told myself that was a good thing. I needed to avoid too much time with her, and I only made her nervous, anyway. It made me feel a little badly that she hadn’t wanted to say goodbye I realized, however, that the boat was getting ready to leave and Lily was still hanging around. “You better catch that boat so you can get to your car,” I told her. “I thought maybe I’d ride with you in case you need any help.” She was stroking my arm again. “Nah, I’m good, Lily. Thanks. The boat is going to be full of supplies and it’s small so there won’t be anywhere for you to sit. I don’t have to unload the boats. They said I can just leave it loaded.” She looked disappointed, but she said, “Okay then; it was great. We have to get together really soon. “Yeah, it was. I’ll see you at church tomorrow.” She nodded and smiled. Then she leaned in and kissed my cheek. She let her breasts gently bump into my arm that time. My arm was getting a lot of action, and she was definitely working it. After I got the boat back to World’s End and unloaded a few things, I headed back to

the church to do some work on the next mass. I thought about calling Ryan back, but I put it off. I didn’t want to talk to him about my time with Daphne. It wasn’t just a cheap one-night stand like the ones my brother goes looking for. She was a virgin, for one thing… Jesus, what a way for the poor thing to lose her virginity: with a priest. I shuddered and realized that I really, really need to talk to someone about the feelings I’d been having. I still couldn’t bring myself to face my bishop or any of the priests that I knew personally, so I took a detour. I went to a church called St Francis and sought out the priest there. His name was Father John and I’d only met him once when he came to my church in Boston to talk to us about an organization called the Confraternity of Catholic Clergy. It was founded by Fr. John Trigilio and the idea of it was to meet with other priests who might also be having desires for female companionship. It’s kind of like AA for priests who are confused by their sexual feelings. It’s all confidential, and I was feeling like I had to do something before I did something really bad…again. “Father Jace, how good to see you again.” The elderly man was as sharp as a tack and recognized me right away. “Hello, Father John, it’s good to see you again, too.” I suddenly felt naked in front of him in my picnic shorts and t-shirt. “Excuse the way I’m dressed, we had a church canoe trip and picnic today.” Father John smiled. “My favorite activities are those we can do in normal clothes, Father Jace. Please, have a seat. Tell me what I can do for you.” “This is difficult for me, Father. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it… I’m having some carnal feelings towards a woman in my parish.”

He didn’t look like he was judging me, but I’d also put it much milder than the actual truth. “Priests are human, too, son. We are often not expected to be, but we are. Have you prayed over it?” “Yes, Father, many times. I’m hoping that maybe talking to others who have had the same feelings, getting some advice from men who understand what I’m going through, might help. I remembered what you said about the Confraternity of Catholic Clergy.” “Yes, it’s a fabulous resource for us. I can put you down for the next meeting.” “Great! When is it?” “Wednesday is our next meeting.” “Wednesday? You don’t have anything sooner?” Okay, now he looked like he might be judging me just a little bit. Maybe I was giving away that I’d already gone too far. “I’m sorry, Father. I’m just really confused.” “I understand. Would you like to talk to me about it?” “Have you ever had these feelings?” “Of course. I’m an old man; I’ve had them more than once. Like I said, we’re human, too. “You’re very young, Jace, and your body is going through the same things that other men your age are going through. Your mind knows that you’re married to our Lord, but your body doesn’t. As a priest, you expect that since you love our Lord so much, it will be easy to uphold your vows. “But again, we’re just like any other men. How many men break their vows to their wives? We hear it in confession all the time. And, what do we hear them say it over and over?” I knew what I heard them say. “They tell me that they still love their wives and that it

was just sex…it didn’t mean anything.” “Exactly, and I believe them. It doesn’t make it right, but I believe they mean it. I also believe that you thinking about breaking your vows when you look at a young, beautiful woman with your young body doesn’t mean you don’t love your Lord God.” “It doesn’t, Father John. I love God as much as ever. My love for Him has gotten me through so much. Like I said, I’m just confused…and I’m worried. I’m worried that I’m going to ruin my relationship with Him, and that I’ll regret it for as long as I live.” I’m also worried that I’ll regret not getting to have Daphne again for just that long. “Being here is proof to me that you want to deal with this and stay true to your vows. But you and I both know that God doesn’t need to see proof. He knows what’s in your heart and your head. He knows you’re struggling. Talk to him, Jace. Pray hard. And in the meantime, if you need to talk before the meeting, you’re always welcome to come to me.” His words made me feel better. I knew everything he said before he said it, but I had needed to hear it said out loud. “Thank you, Father John. I appreciate your help more than I can tell you.” “I wish I could do more, son. Just please don’t be so hard on yourself. Please, remember that it’s okay to be human.” That’s the part I’d been struggling so hard with. I wanted to be a good priest and a good Catholic and a good example, but throughout it all, I’d forgotten to remember that I was also a good human, and even a good human is not perfect, but can be forgiven. I thanked Father John again and left there about 10 pounds lighter than I’d gone in. The next several days, I managed to make it through without one single carnal thought. I didn’t not think about Daphne, that was too much to ask, but I only thought about her in terms that a Catholic priest could be proud of. I hoped that she was doing well

and I hoped that she would make it for Church on Sunday — that sort of thing. I did think about how pretty she is, but fully clothed, in dry clothes. I went to the meeting on Wednesday, and I found out by listening to the other priests that I wasn’t as much of a freak as I had thought I was. Even the older priest there talked about having feelings of lust. One priest confessed to being in love with the same woman for 10 years. He claimed to have done nothing about it, but she’s his neighbor and there was something in his eyes when he talked about her that told me maybe he did cross the line. Or maybe I just wanted that to be the case so I didn’t feel like the only one who was going straight to hell in a handbasket. Thursday evening, as I was thinking about what I should have for dinner, there was a knock on my door. I was surprised to pull it open and find Lily standing there with a picnic basket in one hand and a bottle of sparkling cider in the other. I hadn’t heard from her since church on Sunday. She had stopped to say hello and asked again if I wanted to go out to dinner. She asked in front of other parishioners, so I’d brushed her off. I recovered from my surprise and said, “Hey, Lily! What’s up?” She flashed me her cutest smile. One thing about Lily is she knows she’s cute. She’d not just cute…she’s hot — drop dead gorgeous hot. She’d never had any problems with poor self-esteem. If anything, she had a little too much self-esteem and it bordered on being full of herself. I’ve always thought that the fact I turned her down was worse for her than actually accepting we couldn’t be together. I’d wounded her ego, and her ego wasn’t used to that. Part of what attracted me to Daphne is that she doesn’t have that kind of ego. She could stand to have a lot more self-esteem, but that wasn’t even it. She thinks of others more than herself. Lily always had an ulterior motive.

“I brought dinner and a movie. Have you eaten yet?” “Um…no, I was just thinking about it.” I was also really sure that this was a terrible idea. In the meeting I’d gone to, I’d been advised not to put myself into situations that could get out of hand. Daphne was the one I really wanted, but Lily was just hot enough that the way I’d been feeling lately might push me over the edge. I wanted Daphne, but I’d have to be careful or Lily might just do. “Well, are you going to invite me in?” She sounded annoyed that she was still standing on the doorstep. Paranoid, I looked around to see who might be watching. No one was even out and about. “Um…I’m just not sure this is really appropriate, Lily. It’s one thing to eat out in a public place, but here in my home…” “Oh, Jace. I’m not trying to seduce you, for God’s sake. It’s dinner and a PG-rated movie. Get your mind out of the gutter.” She’d made me feel foolish for assuming she wanted me. She’s just so damned flirtatious all the time. The truth be told, though, that was just her personality, and maybe I was making too much of it this time. “Come on in,” I said, stepping back from the door. “I’m sorry; this is just all new to me.” She raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve been a priest for five years, now. Haven’t you had any friends over during that time?” She carried her basket over to the table and started setting up like she owned the place. “Yes, but they were married couples, older women, or men. I’m never lonely, but I don’t spend much time with people my own age…much less people I have a history with.

You and I dated…” “A million years ago in high school.” She was saying one thing, but her eyes were saying another. She let them slowly run down my body, settling for way too long on my crotch. I felt myself twitch. My mouth went dry, and I had a lump in my throat. I swallowed hard and said, “Here, I’ll take that,” I took the apple cider from her. I could feel her eyes on me as I took it into the kitchen to pour it into two glasses. When I came back out, she had dinner set up. She’d brought it over warm, and it looked delicious. She made oven-baked mac and cheese — one of my personal favorites — cornbread, and some shredded tri-tip. I sat down with her and said, “This looks amazing. I haven’t had mac and cheese like this since Grandma passed away.” “She’s the one who taught me how to make it; do you remember?” “Yeah, that Sunday after church when it stormed so badly you couldn’t get home.” “I was secretly glad. I had such a great time hanging out with your family. Your grandmother taught me how to make this, we made chocolate chip cookies, and we all played Monopoly in front of the fire. My family was never like that.” I felt that stab in my gut I got every time I thought about my family. Those were good times, but they hadn’t all been like that. “It was a good day,” I said, simply. I never wanted to think about the bad times. I did pretty well keeping all of that at bay. Lily and I ate our meal and had light conversation. She told me about her job, and I talked to her about things that were happening at the church. We cleaned up together and then went in to watch the movie. “What movie is this?” I asked as she slid it into the DVD player on the television. She came over to the couch and sat down next to me…a little too close. “It’s called

Unconditional. It’s a Christian movie about a woman who loses her husband and then her faith.” I smiled. “You know, I’m allowed to watch regular movies.” The church frowns on anything R-rated, but they don’t have to all be Christian-themed. “I know that. But, it’s hard to find one without sex and violence — both of which I know you wouldn’t approve of.” She seemed to disapprove of me not approving of sex and violence. “This one looks good.” When the movie started, we were both sitting up with about two inches of space between us. As it progressed and the woman’s husband died and she was grieving, Lily put her head on my shoulder. I could feel her body jerk with tiny little sobs. I didn’t say anything about her touching me; I thought she was just overcome by the emotions of the movie. Somewhere along the way, though, I felt her move her hand and place it on my thigh. I was trying to ignore it and keep my eyes on the movie, but she wasn’t just resting it there. She started out rubbing that one spot…very lightly. It was enough for my cock to take notice, however, and I could feel an erection coming on. I shifted slightly, trying to give her a subtle hint. She took it — but the wrong way. She moved her hand up to my stomach and started strumming her fingers there. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. I grabbed her hand in mine with the intentions of moving it. She threaded our fingers together, and strictly to keep from embarrassing her, I held on. Towards the end of the movie, the woman was learning how to love again and how to still believe in God. It was a good story, and although the person I’d lost was my grandmother, it was slightly similar to my own.

I was really into it when I felt Lily let go of my hand and shift her legs so that they were draped across mine. Her calves were now pressing into my crotch, and my erection returned with a vengeance. I stretched and yawned as the movie started coming to an end, again trying to give her a subtle hint. She sat up and put her legs on the floor. I thought she was getting ready to leave when suddenly she put both of her hands on my face and pulled me in for a kiss. I felt her lips on mine and then her tongue. I didn’t open my mouth, so she dragged it across my lips, tracing the outline of them slowly. My erection was at full staff and aching as it pressed against the front of my jeans. For a second, I almost lost myself and then a picture of Daphne popped into my head. Yes, I saw the irony there, but it stopped me. I pushed back from her and said, “Lily, what are you doing?” She gave me a knowing look. “You know what I’m doing. I know you want me, Jace.” Her eyes flit to my waist, and she smiled. She could see that I was turned on. “I won’t tell anyone. I want you, too. I’ve wanted you since we were kids. Let me make you feel good. You would love it, Jace, and no one has to know…” I stood up quickly — so quickly that I almost knocked her over. Her words were meant to turn me on further, but they were having the opposite effect. “No, Lily! I’m a priest. I told you when you got here this wasn’t even appropriate. What makes you even think I’d want to take things to that level?” She stood up inches away from me. “That hard cock in your pants for one thing.” She reached for it, but I stepped back again. I honestly had no desire for her to touch me. I didn’t want to fight with her or hurt her, so I said, “Lily, you’re not thinking clearly. I know you’re a better Catholic than this. We can’t do this. I’d be breaking my vows, and

you’d be committing a carnal sin.” She rolled her eyes and let out a small growl. “Jesus, Jace! It’s sex! Priests have sex all the time. They just have to be discreet. Have you ever read the Thorn Birds? Books like that wouldn’t even exist if priests didn’t really have sex. I can be discreet. I’ve been discreet before.” I’m not sure what she meant by that, but I didn’t care. I just wanted her to go now. “Priests do not have sex all the time, Lily. If they do, it’s wrong.” Then I said something that for the life of me, I couldn’t understand; I hadn’t meant to share it at all, much less with Lily. “If I could have those kinds of relations with a woman and my relationship with God, Lily…it wouldn’t be with you. “I’m sorry, but there’s someone else that I’d have in a heartbeat, but even though I have feelings for her, I can’t have her. All I feel for you is friendship, Lily. My body’s responses are just hormones.” She looked angry and narrowed her eyes at me. “You were the only man who ever turned me down, you know that? The rest of them jump at the chance. I know I’m hot, Jace. I work hard at it. I know you think I’m hot. I can see it on your face…and in your pants. Last chance, Jace; I’ll take you to heaven.” What she was saying was both vain and blasphemous. She’ll take me to heaven? No, she’ll send me straight to hell. “I can’t, Lily.” With an even angrier tone she said, “Fine! You ruined the plans for my life once, Jace. You were supposed to marry me, not God. We were supposed to have a life together.” Her face softened again as she gave it one last try, “You don’t have to be a priest; it’s just a job. I’m worth it.” “It’s not a job, Lily. It’s a calling. I’m really sorry, but you should go now.” She’d

completely turned me off, the more she talked. She went over to the table and picked up her basket. She stomped angrily to the front door and stopped. “I don’t think I can just be your friend, Jace.” I just nodded. I was sad about that, but I wasn’t going to sleep with her to prove I wanted to be her friend. We would both regret it; I knew I would for sure.

Chapter Twenty-Eight Daphne

I spent my day off running errands, cleaning my apartment, and doing laundry. Anything to keep from thinking about Jace, but it didn’t work. I still thought about him all the time. I wondered what he was doing. I wondered if he was with Lily, and then I scolded myself and then I wondered again. I wondered if I was just a horny slut or if he really was special. It felt like a lot more than lust, but I didn’t have anything to compare it to. When I was at work, I would imagine him walking in the diner. When I was at home, I’d imagine him knocking on the door. When I went to church on Sunday, I sat in the pew and tried to act like I was listening to mass, when in fact, I was looking at him. He was so perfect; I felt so drawn to him. I couldn’t concentrate on what I was supposed to be concentrating on when I looked at him, not even church. Contrary to what I’d been doing lately, I loved my church. I loved God. I loved being a Catholic woman. I didn’t want my obsession, or whatever it was, with Jace to ruin that. But I didn’t know what to do about it. Carla went with me to church and she tried to get me to go over and talk to him after the service. I wanted to, but he was surrounded by all of the “good” Catholics that had honestly listened to his words during mass and had taken them to heart, I’m sure. He didn’t have time for dredges like me. So, I steered her out of the church in a different direction so we could have lunch

before she had to catch her bus home. She didn’t miss how distracted I was during our meal and was well-aware of what was on my mind. “Maybe you should just tell him.” “Tell him? You mean go to my priest and say, ‘Hey, I can’t think about anything but you. I get horny every time I look at you.’ Is that what you mean?” “It’s not the same as just going to your priest and telling him that. You had sex with this guy.” “Shh!” The waitress was walking by right as she said that. “I realize that, Carla. But the night we did talk and I tried to kiss him, he made it clear that what happened between us was over. Talking to him is not going to help. As a matter of fact, it might make things worse. Putting temptation in front of him repeatedly makes me a horrible person.” “Okay, then here’s what you do. Your next day off, you get dressed up really sexy and you go out. Don’t get drunk — that’s dangerous when you’re alone. But have a drink or two and loosen up, baby girl. “Find another guy to hook up with. Make sure you ask him what he does for a living before you have sex with him and if it’s not illegal or immoral, do it. Maybe that’s all you need… Sometimes all a girl needs is a good lay.” “Carla! That’s quite enough, thank you. I’m not going to use one guy to get over another one.” She rolled her eyes at me. “You know nothing about men.” “Why do you say that?” She laughed. “Because it’s true, baby girl. Men don’t think of being used for sex as being used. They love it. They want you to use them. They’d stamp it into their foreheads if they could get away with it: ‘please use me for sex, any time.’”

I laughed. “You have a very skewed perception of men, you know that?” “No, honey, I have a realistic perception. Do this and get your mind off the priest. He’s hot, granted, but lots of hot guys are out there just waiting for a hot girl like you. You’re killing yourself here. You’re boxing yourself in.” So there I was on Friday night, my first day off since we talked, not taking Carla’s advice. I had on my shorts and my tank. I ate a tuna sandwich for dinner and then set to eating gelato straight out of the container and watching a movie on the Lifetime network as I hunkered down on my couch. I don’t want to go out. I don’t want any other man than Jace. I’m messed up, I know… but wouldn’t I be even more messed up if I added another one-night stand to my list of offenses? I have no idea… So, I’m just going to sit here and eat my gelato before I screw anything else up further. I will just sit here and relax and look forward to Sunday morning when I get to see Jace again. Messed up, I know. I was about half-way through the movie. I’d finished the entire container of gelato and was seriously considering turning in for the night when there was a loud banging on my front door. What the hell? Who is at my door on a Friday night? I went over to the door and quietly looked out the peephole. Son of a bitch! It’s my father. Shit! He looks like hell, as usual. He was unshaven and his clothes were dirty. He looked like he’d had a plenty of whiskey already. I’d be willing to be that he reeked of it. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; I could actually hear it inside my head. I felt like I could barely breathe, like something was clawing at my throat. My chest was beginning to hurt and I was suddenly afraid I was going to have a full-blown anxiety attack. He pounded again. It sounded like he was going to knock down the door. Shit! I had

tried to tell the cop that pressured me to get a restraining order that it wasn’t going to help. What was I supposed to do now? Throw a piece of paper at him and that will make him leave? Maybe it would give him a terrible paper cut. It’s crap and the police have to know it. I got the restraining order the one time I called the police on him; that was one of the most traumatic days of my life. Yes, he’s a horrible man, but he’s my father. The idea of calling the police on him prior to that day had never even entered my mind, but I was trying to leave and he wouldn’t let me. I knew if I stayed, my life would be what it was forever and I couldn’t handle that. I had to get out of there to save my life, so I’d done what I had to do, and he had made sure I regretted it…so then I got the restraining order. Worthless. “Daffy! It’s me, Daffy! Open up!” He banged again. How the hell did he find out where I was? God, I hate it when he calls me that. It makes me sick. How did he find me? I know that Carla wouldn’t tell him or Bethany… There was no one else. I put in a forwarding address at the post office…was that it? I never considered that he’d be able to follow me that way. Damn it! It doesn’t really matter at this point. He’s on my doorstep and he’s going to wake the dead. One of the neighbors will call the police if I don’t do something, but what? He’s angry with me for leaving. I can’t let him in here. The only person I really know here is Bethany and she’s at work tonight, not that she could really do anything. Shit! My head was pounding with the beat of his fist on my door. I was beginning to panic. I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know who to call. “Daffy!” He was screaming now, and I think he was using his feet, too. I suddenly realized that I do know one other person in town, but would it even be

appropriate for me to call him? Would he come? “Daphne Lynn Carter, you open this door right now! We need to talk, and I’m not going away until we do! You don’t want me to have to break it down, do you?” Shit! I grabbed my phone and called Jace. It rang twice before he picked it up with a sleepy, “Hello?” Just as he did, my father beat on the door again. This time it was louder. He was definitely kicking it. He was going to break it or his foot soon. Either way, he wasn’t going away. “Jace?” “Daphne?” Suddenly, the sleepiness was gone from his voice. “What’s wrong? What’s all that noise?” I was whispering as I said, “Jace, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I don’t know anyone in town… I’m scared…” He sounded confused as he said, “Daphne tell me what’s happening.” I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand and said, “It’s my father. He’s at my front door, and he’s drunk. He’s threatening to kick down the door, Jace. He will, too, and then he’ll hurt me.” “Dear God!” I hated the sound of people’s voices when they found out that my father is a monster. “Daphne, did you call the police?” “No. I can’t.” “Why? Daphne, you need to call the police!” I know I sounded hysterical, but at the moment, I just couldn’t think straight. “I can’t do that again! It didn’t do any good last time and it made things worse! I’m sorry I called

you.” I started to hang up and he said, “Wait? Again? He’s done this before? He hurts you, Daphne?” “I don’t want to talk about that right now, Jace. I need to find some help or he’s going to hurt me again. I’ll let you go, I’m sorry.” “No! I’ll be there, okay? I have to get dressed, and I’ll be right there. Don’t let him in.” “I won’t. I’m pretending I’m not even here…but he still won’t leave.” My hands were trembling so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My father kicked the door again, hard. “I’ll be right there. It’s going to be okay. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?” “No, I want you to be safe driving over. I’ll wait for you. Jace?” “Yeah?” “Thank you,” I whispered. I disconnected the call, reluctantly, and slid against the wall to the floor. I sat there with my arms wrapped around my knees, shaking and crying and hoping like hell that I hadn’t done the wrong thing by calling Jace.

Chapter Twenty-Nine Jace I went from a dead sleep to infused with adrenaline in about 30 seconds flat. I had no idea why Daphne would call me instead of the cops, but I couldn’t just leave her alone to deal with someone who was threatening her. She sounded scared to death. He must have hurt her really bad in the past. I had a hard time even letting myself imagine that. Every time I did, I was suddenly filled with an anger that I’d never experienced before. I’m a priest. I’m a pacifist. I’d never actually been in a fight. I’d trained for them, but that was always just supposed to be about exercise. I was never supposed to use it. When I first became a priest, I met this other young father that was completely ripped. I couldn’t help but notice and one day, I finally asked him about it. Growing up, all the priests and Bishops that I’d known had been older and most of them were soft and a little paunchy. I’d assumed back then that taking care of their body would be considered vanity and vanity is a sin. But this young priest told me about a new movement amongst the leaders of the Catholic Church. It involved being physically fit. Taking better care of the “temple” that God gave you. I started going to his gym with him. It was a gym opened by a devoutly Catholic family, and the man who did the classes and the personal training was one of the board members of our church. I started working out with him and because I’d always been

healthy and athletically inclined, I progressed quickly. After about six months of intense daily work-outs, he started teaching me the basics of boxing. I’ve been doing that with him now for over three years and I wouldn’t doubt that I could take on any MMA fighter and come out on top, if I was so inclined. I’d never had the desire to beat anyone up, though…until that phone call. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time. As I threw on my clothes, I said a prayer for guidance and one for patience. It wasn’t going to look good for the acting priest of the biggest parish in Lexington to get arrested for assault. I may as well kiss my career and any good reputation I had left goodbye. I finished my prayers on the road and assured myself that there was no way I’d be getting into a fight. When I drove up to Daphne’s apartment building, I could see her door. It faced the street and the outside light was on. There was a big man on the porch, and I watched as he kicked the door several times and then had to reach out and grab hold of the railing to steady him. I had to assume that was her loving father. Poor Daphne. I parked the car and tried to think fast. At last, I decided that feigning ignorance might be my best option. I jogged over to him. He was on the landing and there were three small steps that led up to it. “Excuse me, sir? Is everything okay?” I said it as politely as I could. I didn’t feel neighborly at all, but I hoped I sounded it. He glanced over his shoulder at me. His look was dark and menacing. He narrowed his eyes and said, “Mind your own business.” This wasn’t going to be easy. He was drunk and obviously an ass. I took a deep breath and said, “You seem upset, sir. I’d like to help if I can. I live here, and we don’t like any

problems. I’ll have to assume you’re trying to break into that apartment and call the police unless you tell me what is going on.” “I’m just trying to get my daughter to open the fucking door,” he shouted the last part and slammed his open palm against the door. He was slurring his words together. She was right about him being drunk. He not only looked and sounded it — he stank. I was almost getting drunk off the fumes. “Who’s your daughter?” He looked annoyed again, but he said, “Daphne Carter…my Daffy…” “Well that explains it, sir. The person who lives there isn’t named Daphne…” “Oh, shut the hell up and go away!” he said, kicking the door again. He wasn’t buying my act any longer. “Daffy! Open this fucking door!” “Sir, I’m calling the police” I had my phone in my hand, and I was literally shocked when he swung around and kicked it out of my palm. It flew into the bushes lining the stairwell. My hand stung…and now I was pissed. Without thinking, I reacted. I reached up to grab him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down towards me. He tried to take a swing, but I had him too close, he didn’t have enough room to connect. “What the hell are you doing? Let go of me!” I tried. I let go of him with a shove, and he fell on his ass on the sidewalk. “Get out of here, this is the last time I’m asking you,” I told him. I was shocked at the feelings raging inside of me. If he was this willing to attack a stranger, what had he done to Daphne? He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and his fists were like huge bear paws. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of him hurting her…of anyone hurting her.

That moment was when it finally clicked for me: what I felt for her went way beyond sex. I was actually tempted to kick him while I watched him struggle to his feet. I almost made myself sick. I took a deep breath and watched him. I thought he was finished, and I was going to resist my urges and let him go. He turned his back to me and started to walk away. I had almost breathed a sigh of relief, when all of a sudden, he turned back and like a wild animal, he came at me. I could have stepped out of the way…I suppose. But instead, I chose to bring up my knee. It connected with the soft part of his gut and as he fell forward, it hit the underside of his chin. He went down again. This time, he had blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. I had to try one last time to talk to him. It’s what I’m supposed to do…right? “Please, don’t make me hurt you anymore. Just walk away. My intentions here are not to hurt you.” “Fuck you! You didn’t hurt me, you little pussy!” He wiped the blood from his chin and crawled back up out of the dirt, immediately taking a swing at me with his right arm. I blocked it with my left and threw out a right jab. It landed squarely between his eyes, and his nose started spurting blood. He covered it with both his hands. Blood oozed out from between his fingers. I couldn’t believe I caused that. In a nasally voice he said, “You broke my nose, you dumb fuck!” “Not yet,” I told him. It wasn’t broken. I hadn’t hit him hard enough. “But I will if you don’t leave, right now.” The most frightening thing about that was that I meant it. He looked like he might be drunk enough or stupid enough to say something else. I stayed in my fight stance wondering who the hell I was.

If Max and Ryan saw me as I was then, it would blow them away. We used to spar as boys and I was always the one to give in first. Not because I was a pussy, but because I just really hated the idea of fighting. Finally, whatever good sense he had left kicked in. He dusted himself off, and with blood still pouring from his nose, he started to walk away. I tried to tell myself to just let him go, but I was beyond reasoning, even with myself. “Hey!” I yelled at him. He stopped and turned around to look at me. He still had a smug look on his face and God help me, but I was tempted to wipe it off. Instead, in a voice infused with rage, I said, “If you ever come near her again…or even call her…I will find you and I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?” In his nasally voice, he said, “Fuck you.” He spit on the sidewalk and blood went everywhere, and then he flipped me off before turning around again and walking away. This time, I let him go. I think I was frozen for several seconds over the shock of hearing those words come out of my mouth. I’m a Catholic Priest. Jesus, what is happening to me? I watched him make his way through the parking area. He was weaving as he walked. He didn’t get into a car. That was at least one good thing. I watched until he disappeared down the street into the night. He would probably walk into the nearest bar. Hopefully, they’d take one look at him and not serve him. I knocked on the door and so she wouldn’t be too frightened to open it I called, “Daphne, it’s Jace. He’s gone.” Several minutes went by. I thought she wasn’t going to open the door so I said, “Daphne, you’re safe. Please open the door.” Finally, when I was just about to knock again, I heard the latch. She pulled the door open just enough to peek out. I could see terror in her eyes and felt that surge of rage once more. I wished that I had broken his nose.

“He’s gone?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Yeah, he’s not going to hurt you tonight…or ever again if I have anything to say about it.” She closed the door, and I heard her disengage the chain. She pulled it back open and the rage morphed into instant desire. She was wearing a white tank top and it was evident that she didn’t have a bra on underneath. I could see her dark nipples through it and the flesh of her full breasts in the arm holes on the sides. Her shorts were what I think the girls call “booty” shorts. That was all they covered. The rest of her long, tanned legs were exposed. Her blonde hair was loose and disheveled, and although she had tracks of tears on her pretty face, she was still the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. God help me. I knew at that moment what was happening to me, although I wasn’t really ready to fully admit it. I would do anything to make sure this woman was okay. Anything. I suddenly knew that I would die protecting her. I felt that strongly about her, and that wasn’t just physical attraction. I needed her to be okay. I was falling for her, right or wrong.

Chapter Thirty Daphne “Daphne, what’s the deal with you and him? Does he hurt you physically? Do you think your life could be in danger? If you do, we really need to call the police.” He looked so worried that it made my heart feel happy and sad at the same time. “I’m sorry, Jace, but I really don’t want to talk about all of that. I can’t right now,” I was shaking and my voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He looked at me softly. “Don’t be sorry. Just be safe, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I smiled at him through my tears. It was so nice that he cared. He cared enough to run over in the middle of the night. “Thank you; I will be. I moved here because I want nothing more than to go on with my life and forget all about him. I’m not sure how he found me. I do have a restraining order, like I said, but it doesn’t do any good. He does what he wants.” “Daphne, you really should-” “Please, don’t say it. I know I should call the police. I can’t explain it, though, no matter how horrible he is…he’s still my father.” I wasn’t sure what happened between Jace and my father out there. I tried to see through the peephole, but they’d moved too far away. I did hear a struggle and I was surprised to say the least. I was so grateful to Jace just for coming…I hadn’t expected him to fight for me. I know that’s another thing he’s not supposed to do. I’m batting a thousand

here. He was rubbing one of his hands in the other so I said, “Is your hand okay? Do you need some ice?” He looked down at it. His knuckles looked a little red, but there was no blood and they didn’t look too swollen…yet. “Nah, I’m okay. If you’re okay, I’m going to take off. Just do not open the door to him, and please, please, please, call the police first next time…then you can call me.” I tried to smile. I wasn’t going to call the police, but if it made him feel better to believe that I would, so be it. “Thank you again. I should get to bed. I have to work the breakfast shift tomorrow.” He smiled back. God, he’s beautiful. “You’re welcome, anytime. If you ever want to talk about this, or anything, I’m all ears, okay?” “Thank you, that means a lot. And hey, if you ever want to talk about anything, it goes both ways. Carla said that girl at the picnic was your ex. You two seem to be getting along pretty well, but if you ever want to talk even about that, I’m willing to listen.” I laughed after I said it. As soon as it was out of my mouth I felt like an idiot. God, please give me a filter. “I don’t think Lily will be around much anymore,” he said. I hated that I was so petty that it made me want to dance naked in the street. “Oh, I’m…sorry?” He chuckled. “Don’t be,” he said. “I just kind of turned down a come on from her last night. She wasn’t happy.” “Oh, kind of like you turned me down. I guess you have women coming onto you all the time.” He got a look in his eyes then that I didn’t recognize. It was kind of like he was

tortured. “No, Daphne,” he said, softly. “This wasn’t like that at all. I turned her down because I’m a priest, but also because I don’t feel anything for her other than friendship. I turned you down simply because I’m a priest and what I did with you the night I was drunk was wrong. But if I could be with anyone on this earth, Daphne, it would be you.” I could feel my heart move up into my throat and my pulse went crazy. He still wants me! Shit! Why am I celebrating that? He just said it’s wrong. He didn’t have to say it. I know that it is. God, maybe I was better off when I thought the feelings were just one sided and I was obsessing over a man that didn’t want me. My chest ached. “Sleep well, Daphne,” he said then and he turned towards the door. “Jace?” He turned back around and before I lost my nerve, I embraced him. He didn’t push me away. I hugged him tight, and he hugged me back. I put my mouth next to his ear and said, “Thank you, so much for coming tonight.” When I finally let him go, he looked at my face and I could see the sincerity in his eyes as he said, “Anytime; I mean that.” I watched him go, and he waited at the bottom of the steps for me to lock myself in. Once I did that, I pressed my forehead into the door and wondered what I was going to do. One thing I knew for certain: I wasn’t going to sleep. There was going to be no getting the feel of his body against mine off my mind. There wasn’t even any use in trying. My mind knows the difference between what I want and can’t have, but my heart doesn’t.

Chapter Thirty-One Jace When I got back home, I realized that my sleep time was over. I got back in bed, but my mind was racing. I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant that Daphne was the only reason I’ve ever found in my life to be violent. I would have killed that man to keep him from hurting her. That should have frightened the hell out of me, but instead, it gave me a weird sense of peace inside knowing that I finally found someone outside of my grandmother and my brothers that I truly felt like I belonged with. I’d had a really hard time with that my entire life, feeling out of place. In school, I never fit in with any specific groups. I was always on the fringes of everything. The only thing that gave me any semblance of peace at all was the church and that was why I chose to be a priest. I thought that I felt that way because it was my calling. Now, I was not so sure, and what terrified me most is that changing my mind so late in life might ruin any peace I’d had in my heart all along. I tried to make myself stop thinking about it. I couldn’t fix it that night…if at all. I finally dropped that train of thought; however, Daphne was still prominently on my mind. I wondered about her mother. Was she there when her father was hurting her? I tell people who I counsel through the church to “put it in God’s hands.” Daphne is a devout Catholic. Was her mother as well? Was that what Daphne was

seeking through the church…help from God with a life that had to be pure torture? What about her siblings? Did she have siblings? Did her father abuse them as well? One thing I struggled hard with before taking my vows was giving up the chance to have children someday. I loved kids, and I would have loved to have my own had I chosen a different path in life. I couldn’t even wrap my head around wanting to harm any child, much less your own. It made my stomach feel sick to think about what she must have been through. The terror in her eyes gave it away, and although I didn’t know the circumstances, all it took was a look at her face tonight to know it was torture. That thought made me angry again and that anger made me remember what I did. I knew that I should pray for forgiveness, but I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. I’m not sorry for beating that man down — and I’d do it again, in a heartbeat. I wanted to spend more time with Daphne. I wanted to get her to open up to me and tell me exactly what she’d been through. I knew she didn’t believe it, but it would probably help her so much to talk about it. I wondered if anyone knew, or if she’s spent her life in silence. That made me even sadder, because when that happens, it’s like you’re completely alone in the world at it hurts that much more. I wanted to help her and I wanted her to know that as long as I’m nearby, she’ll never be alone. My life and my brothers’ lives were unbearable before we went to live with Grandma. At the time, child services wanted to put us in counseling. Max and I wanted no part of it, so Grandma didn’t make us go. I never talked about what had happened to us with her, either, but she knew, so sometimes we’d just sit in silence and the two of us would remember together. It was like talking about it with our hearts.

That night, when I looked into Daphne’s eyes and I saw all the pain over her father, I also saw all the feelings that she was having for me. I felt like we were talking to each other with our hearts the way that Grandma and I used to do. I closed my eyes and said a prayer for her…and then I said one for me…and then I said one for us both and I asked God to give me some kind of sign that it wasn’t wrong to feel the way I did about her because if this feeling I had was wrong, I was not sure I ever wanted to be right again.

Chapter Thirty-Two Daphne I stood in the line today to say hello to Jace after church. It was the least I could do after what he did for me when my father showed up on my doorstep, drunk and dangerous. I hung back so that I could be last and when it was my turn, I thought I saw a light in his eyes when he looked at me. It made me happy…and guilty at the same time. “Hello, Daphne,” he said, taking my hand like he would any other parishioner. “How are you?” “I’m good, thank you. Thank you again for…” I looked around to make sure no one was hanging back. When I saw it was clear, I simply said, “The other night.” He smiled and everything inside of me liquefied. He’s so gorgeous, even in his cassock and collar. I’m such a demon. “It was no problem. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” “Well, thank you. I should let you go, I’m sure you have plenty to do today.” “Actually, I was going to have lunch with my brothers. Would you be interested in joining me? Just as friends, of course.” I wondered if he threw that last part in for me, or him, or us both. Either way, he was right…that was the only way we could do things. “I’d like that,” I heard myself say. I wasn’t really in control of things where Jace was concerned. My evil body ruled all of those thoughts. “Great,” he said with another dazzling smile. “Do you mind just waiting for me while

I change?” “No, I’ll be right outside.” I stood outside of the beautiful old church and asked God again to help me. Am I doing the wrong thing as long as we really are just friends? I cannot control my feelings or my thoughts and I’m sure God will forgive me for those. I can, however, control my actions, and that will have to be the key here. When Jace came out, he was wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, and tennis shoes. He looked like that hot guy I met in the bar that night; my heart swelled and pressed up against my ribcage as it pounded. Damn it! Friends, Daphne: that’s it. We took his car, and on the way, he seemed to be trying to warn me about his brothers. “They’re a lot different from me,” he tried to explain. “Max is the oldest and the more serious one, and Ryan is a 14-year-old in a 25-year-old man’s body. Don’t take anything he says seriously, okay?” I was a little nervous, but I agreed. We went to a sandwich shop called Pot-Belly in Boston. His brothers were already there, and I knew them as soon as I saw them because the three of them looked so much alike. I also didn’t miss the looks on their faces when they saw me or the glance they gave each other. “There he is,” the dark-haired one said. “And, he brought a friend.” “Did you bring me one?” the light-haired one with the tattoos asked with a lewd chuckle. My guess was that he was Ryan. I was right. “Daphne, this is Max,” Jace said of the older one. Then with a hard look at the younger one, he said, “The mouthy one is Ryan. Remember what I told you.” Max shook my hand. Ryan looked offended and said, “What did he tell you?” I didn’t know what to say and I could feel myself blushing. He looked at Jace then and said,

“What on earth could you possibly have to judge me for…Father.” “Ryan, cool it.” That was Max. He had a deep, controlled voice and as soon as he spoke, Ryan shut up and took his seat. He looked up at me and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Daphne and whatever he told you is probably true.” I smiled at him and he winked at me. Jace rolled his eyes. Jace and I sat down and the brothers started talking about people they knew. There was something about their grandmother’s house selling and having a meeting with the attorney. We ordered our meals before Max looked at me and said, “So, what do you do, Daphne?” “I’m a waitress,” I told him. He was very well-dressed and just the way he held himself I could tell that he was the successful one. I was a little ashamed to tell him I was just a waitress. “How do you know Jace?” Ryan asked. He had a mischievous glint in his eye. “We met at…” “Church,” Jace said, taking it out of my hands. Ryan smiled again and looked like he knew it was bullshit somehow. “I ran into Lily the other day,” Max said. My thigh was barely touching Jace’s under the table, but I felt him tense at the mention of her name. I wondered why. Is it because of me? “Oh, where did you see her?” The waitress brought our sandwiches and the conversation was put on hold while Ryan flirted with her and everyone got settled with their food. Once she was gone, Max said, “She was at McDougal’s Friday night. I was surprised to see her since I’d heard she moved out of town. She told me she went on a church trip

with you last weekend.” “Yeah, we had a kayaking trip. Lily is part of my congregation.” Jace took a bite of his sandwich. He looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to think of a way to change the subject. “Yeah, that’s what she said. She also told me something else really interesting.” Jace now looked like he was about to take off running from the restaurant. I could actually watch him visibly relax from head to toe as Max said, “She said that the house she lived in with her husband sold for 50,000 more than Grandma’s did.” Ryan looked amused, Jace looked relieved, and Max looked completely in control. These three were something. “Oh…I wonder why? I never saw her house. Was it bigger or in a better neighborhood?” “No, it was on the South End, too, and if I’m not mistaken, it was smaller than Grandma’s. I’m going to find out when I speak with the attorney.” “God! You guys are so boring,” Ryan whined. Jace was right; he was definitely like a 14-year old. Jace rolled his eyes again and said, “What would you like to talk about, Ryan?” Then he looked at me and back at his brother and said, “Keep it clean.” “You’re such an old fuddy-dud lately,” Ryan told him with his lip curled. “Being a priest is making you old before your time.” He looked at me and grinned. “It’s good to know some people can still bring you out of your shell. Daphne, I never thought I’d see the day when someone could talk my brother into having sex.” Jace looked like he was going to choke as Ryan raised his glass to me. “Good job.”

He drank his beer as if he hadn’t just said something out loud that he shouldn’t know and should have never been brought up. I felt my face go hot again and gulped the ice water in front of me. Damn! Did Jace really tell them? He must have. What the hell? I survived the rest of lunch, listening to the brothers razz each other over everything from baseball team choices to women. After Ryan’s comment, Max had shut him down with a look and he backed off of whatever he thought he knew about me and Jace. I thought I was going to ask Jace about it, but when we got in the car, I lost my nerve. I was having a nice day being his “friend.” I didn’t want to bring all of that up again. “I’m going to watch the All-Star game this afternoon. If you don’t have any plans, we can get some snacks and watch it at my place.” God help me, I knew that was a bad idea, but I told myself that in order to prove I could handle being alone with him, I should do it. “Sure,” I heard myself say, “That sounds like fun.” He stopped at a little market close to his apartment. As we walked in, I heard a couple of people greet him as Father, so I kept as low of a profile as I could while we were there. We picked out some chips and dip, and he bought sodas and a vegetable tray. It was only after he paid and we were outside that I feel like I could breathe. He smiled gently at me. “It’s not a sin for us to be friends, Daphne.” I think I blushed again. “I know. I guess I worry too much about what people think.” He loaded the groceries and then looked at me. “We all do. But, as long as we’re okay with God and we know we’re not doing anything wrong…that’s what matters.” He had a good point. He also meant what he said about hanging out just as friends. We sat on his couch and ate and watched baseball. I wasn’t a fan and he was a hard-core Red Sox fan, so he filled me in on the All-Star league and who he was rooting for and

why. He got really into the game and it was cute to watch him be so animated about something. Every once in a while, he would clamp down on my leg with his hand when he was frustrated, or give me a high five when he was happy…but otherwise, he didn’t touch me and we maintained our appropriateness until early evening when I announced it was time for me to go. Jace drove me back to the church to get my car and before I got out, he said, “Hey, Daphne?” “Yeah?” “Thank you. Today was the first time in a long time that I’ve felt truly happy and comfortable. I had a great, normal day.” I smiled. “I had a great, normal day, too. Thank you.” He waited for me to get in my car and drive away before he left. I was still smiling when I got home. It really had been a good day.

Chapter Thirty-Three Jace It was Saturday night and I had spent all week being proud of myself for spending an entire day with Daphne and not touching her…or barely touching her, I guess. A time or two when I had my hand on her leg, I have to admit the idea of sliding it up was on my mind, but I proved to myself I can control those urges. I felt less lonely than I had for a long time…since Grandma died. I liked being friends with Daphne. If I couldn’t have her for anything more than that — and I couldn’t — I would gladly take friendship. I still have the dreams at night where we have passionate sex and I wake up hot and sweaty and with a raging hard on. My body is becoming accustomed to freezing cold showers in the morning, but I’m controlling it. God can’t fault me for what’s in my subconscious, I don’t think. I had been trying to decide what I wanted to do all day and finally, I knew that whatever I did, I wanted to do it with Daphne. I called her and she answered on the second ring. “Hi, Jace, how are you?” “I’m good. I was just sitting here at home thinking about seeing a movie. I wondered if you might like to meet me there.” I heard her hesitate. I actually heard the wheels turning in her head. She must have decided like I have that she’s in complete control of her actions because at last she said, “That sounds like fun. What are you going to see?”

I felt my face go hot as I said, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” She giggled nervously. That was probably bordering too close on where we’d been at since day one. “Okay…” “I want to see Southpaw.” “That’s the one about the fighter?” “Yeah.” She giggled again. “It’s an odd choice for most priests. But I’ve seen you in action.” I had to laugh. “Yes, unfortunately, you have. The story sounds great; it’s not really about the fighting.” “Oh,” she said. I could hear the mischief in her voice as she said, “Is that kind of like saying you read Playboy for the articles?” “Wow. Harsh.” I was laughing, though. Quickly skirting around the porn conversation, she said, “What time and where should I meet you?” “It starts at 7:10 at the Metro.” “Great, I’ll see you then,” she said. After she hung up, I just stood there for a few moments looking down at the phone. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was setting myself up. Am I just making these feelings we have for each other worse? All I really knew was that I not only wanted to see Daphne, I needed to…so, I was going to see her and my sexual urges would just have to go untended.

Chapter Thirty-Four Daphne I was waiting when Jace drove up in front of the theater. I’d actually walked over because it was close to my apartment. He was in regular clothes again and my heart did that thing it always does when I first see him. Then I had to go through the whole process of telling myself why I can’t have him…again. “Hi, there,” he said, taking hold of my hand like we were a couple. I could have pulled mine away, I guess. But, I didn’t want to. His hand was big and warm and strong… and it was attached to him. He led me inside and paid for our tickets. “You want popcorn?” “Of course,” I said with a grin. He ordered a large and then said, “Please tell me we can drench it in butter. If you say no, I’ll be forced to order my own.” “I love butter.” “Great!” He was true to his word, he literally drenched it. Then he took my hand again and led me into the darkened theater. We found a couple of seats in the center and sat down just in time for the previews to start. Jace reached and put the popcorn tub in my lap, taking a handful of it out for himself. He seemed so relaxed, like we’d known each other for years. I wished that I could get to that point…where I didn’t psycho-analyze every thought, feeling, and word. I busied myself eating popcorn and pretending to be interested in the previews. Every so often, I could see him look at me out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to look at him

— there was almost nothing I’d rather do. But in the dark room and with our close proximity, that look would make me imagine kissing him and once I let my mind go there, I might lose control all over again. The movie was really intense, and every so often, I would go to put my hand on the arm rest and Jace’s arm would already be there. I squeezed it a few times as I watched the main character, Billy “The Great” Hope get his head bashed in. I cried when his wife left him and took his daughter and again when he fought to get it all back. Over all, it was a really good movie and the absolute best part was watching Jace’s face out of the corner of my eye during the fight scenes. There was real light in his eyes, and I could tell that in spite of being in a completely passive profession, the fight scenes really appealed to him. After the movie when I should have gone home, I accepted his invitation for Chinese food at his place. I didn’t want the evening to end and he didn’t seem to want it to, either…but that’s okay because we’re just friends. That’s what I told myself anyways. “What kind of Chinese food do you like?” he asked me when we got back to his apartment. “I don’t care,” I said. “I’m not picky.” “Be picky. What is your favorite, Daphne?” “I like lemon chicken and steamed rice. And egg-foo-yung. Oh, and won-tons.” He laughed. “See, your demanding side was right there on the surface.” I felt myself flush and he said, “Have a seat in the living room. I’ll order the food and be right in.” I went into the living room, but I didn’t sit down. Instead, I walked around the room and looked at the photos of him and his brothers and an older lady I assumed was his

grandmother I’d heard him mention. I wondered why he didn’t have any pictures of his parents, but who was I to judge? “That was in Maine,” he said of the photo I was looking at when he came in the room. “It’s a little place called Lincolnville Beach. My brothers and I rented a cabin up there for two weeks when Max graduated from college. We had a lot of fun.” “Were you in the priesthood yet?” “No, I’d just got out of high school that year. I wasn’t sure yet what I wanted to be when I grew up.” He came over next to her and handed me a glass of iced tea. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Do you want to watch some television?” “Sure,” I said, taking a seat on the couch. He sat next to me. As he flipped through the channels, he said, “What do you like to watch?” “I don’t watch a lot of TV. I like the history channel and the Discovery Channel, though,” I told him. He found the Discovery channel and left it there. It was Shark Week. We watched for a while until the food came, and then Jace spread a blanket on the floor and we sat and ate off the coffee table while we watched. “How is the chicken?” he asked “It’s delicious, thank you.” He smiled at me. “You’re so polite.” I blushed again and he said, “Don’t be embarrassed, that’s a really good thing. Most people these days forget to say please and thank you. You never forget. I like that. Sometimes, though, you apologize too much.” With a grin I said, “I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “Do your brothers know…about us? I mean that crack Ryan made at lunch last week.” “Yes, they know,” he said. He didn’t explain how or why. I was torn between being afraid they would tell someone and being flattered that he told someone. “You’re not worried that they’ll tell someone?” “No, not at all. My brothers can be all kinds of annoying and sometimes belligerent, but the one thing we always have is each other’s backs. We’ve always only had each other. Ryan and Max would no sooner betray me than I would them.” That made me feel a little better, knowing he was so confident about it. Then he said, “I’m sorry about Ryan, though. He has no tact and I know that made you uncomfortable. I’ll ask him not to say things like that again next time he sees you.” “It’s okay. I’m honestly kind of glad you thought enough of it to tell someone about me.” He smiled and said, “I thought more of it than I should.” We both dropped that touchy subject and finished eating. The food was delicious, and once we’d just about wiped it out, I helped him clean up. It was getting kind of late at that point, and I said, “Maybe I should take off.” I didn’t have my car. I suppose I could have walked home, or taken the bus, but he said, “Stay just a little longer…please. I’ll take you home in a bit.” I didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

We sat down on the couch and began watching an old movie on television. It was in black and white and we had missed the first part so I didn’t know what it was or what was going on. I think James Cagney was in it. “Have you ever seen this? I asked him. He looked at the TV; he’d been looking at me. “No, not this one,” he said. “I like old movies, though.” “Me, too,” I said. “The world seemed like a lot simpler place back then.” He laughed. “Or harder, depending on how you look at it. We definitely have a lot more luxuries these days.” “This is true.” I continued watching and I was about to ask him another question when I looked over and saw his head was extended back and he was sound asleep. He looked beautiful and uncomfortable. I got up and nudged him over so he would lie down and stretch out. Once he did that, I laid myself down next to him. I don’t know what I was thinking other than he felt damned good and I had no desire to leave him.

Chapter Thirty-Five Jace I woke up with hair in my face. I can honestly say that was a new experience for me. Before I panicked, I breathed in the fresh coconut-lime smell of it and smiled. It smelled like Daphne. I opened my eyes and saw that it was, in fact, Daphne. We were still on my couch and she was cuddled against my chest. Her top leg was draped over mine and I had that pesky morning wood. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. I told her just friends…that’s all this was supposed to be. Now I was waking up, on a Sunday morning no less, all tangled up in her and physically excited. Jesus, Mother Mary, help me. The temptation to touch her was almost completely overwhelming. I’d dreamt of this moment nearly every night since the first time we made love. I wake up next to her and I wake her with a slow, sensuous kiss. She smiles and opens her eyes and then I kiss her again, this time harder and more passionately as my hands begin to roam her sexy body. I have to stop this. My cock was aching. I have to get in the shower…the cold shower. There’s no way I can do this again, especially not right before I have to go say mass on Sunday morning. No way. I gently extracted myself from her, trying not to wake her. Her pretty eyes flickered open and looked at me, but they didn’t really focus. She rolled over to face the couch as I

got up. I looked down at her fully dressed and sound asleep and I thought I never saw anyone or anything that looked that good. “I have to get ready to go to the church,” I said, not knowing if she would hear me or process it or not. She didn’t say anything, but I still didn’t move. God, she’s beautiful. My hands itched to touch her. I looked down at myself still dressed in my jeans. There was a tent in the front of them. I didn’t want her to see me like that. I forced myself to turn away and go down the hall to the shower. I was becoming an expert at the early morning cold shower, but even as I stood underneath the cold and uncomfortable spray, the desire for that sexy woman on my couch was not going away. I picked up where I left off with the fantasy, only in my mind when I woke up, we were both naked and my hands were roaming across smooth, bare skin. God, she feels so good. I closed my eyes as the cold water ran down my back and I could feel her. My hands tingled, my breaths quickened, and my cock was not going down. Damn! I cannot go do mass with a hard-on. I’m pretty sure God wouldn’t easily forgive that. I tried all of the tricks in the book. I pictured my grandmother and my brothers and still, there was Daphne in the background. Finally, I closed my eyes hard and pictured the Bishop, looking at me with a tent in my cassock and shaking his head. That worked. I deflated almost instantly. I finished my shower, and after shaving and dressing, I went back out to the living room. She was still asleep. Her soft blonde hair covered most of her face, but her curves were way too apparent. I had to get out of there before I got another rise. I grabbed my keys and slipped out. I’m on my way to do a Catholic Mass with nothing but making love to a sexy woman on my mind. God, what the hell is wrong with me?



Chapter Thirty-Six Daphne I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I need him…more than air… more than water. He wants me, too. Daphne with the abusive father and the non-existent mother and the go-nowhere job…he wants me. His body is sculpted like an athlete. His features are more perfect that the most famous movie star. He’s smart and funny and charming. I’m nobody…just Daphne who wore rags to school and spent most of my life trying not to be noticed. If they noticed, they would ask questions and then they would judge. He doesn’t judge me, though. He knows about my father, at least some of it, and he still looks at me with some sort of awe in his eyes. He whispers to me how much he loves me as he kisses my lips and my neck. He strokes my cheek and tells me how beautiful I am and how much he wants me. I sit perfectly still as he undresses me, following each button with a kiss, all the way down to my mid-section. I willingly let him slide off my blouse and I take deep breaths as I feel his hands slide around behind me and unhook my bra. He gazes down on my naked breasts with adoration before bringing his lips down to them. Oh my gosh…he’s licking my nipples and he’s sucking on them. I’m so wet and I want him to touch me between my legs so badly. When he looks at me, there is no denying that he is falling in love with me — the same as I am with him. His smile is so sexy, and I can’t wait a moment longer.

I propel myself into his strong arms and I kiss him, long and slow and deep. He plunges his tongue into my mouth and mine slides against his. I swirl mine around inside of his mouth and he tastes like peppermint and chocolate. I run my hands up and twist them up in his soft hair. His hands are all over my body. They’re about to touch me in my center, the place that was burning out of control with need for him…. And then, my nightmare began. My phone is ringing — where is it? Why won’t it stop ringing? I just want to be left alone…with him. It took me almost a full minute before I could process that it wasn’t the phone, it was my alarm. It was time to get up and I’d had another long, wet dream about Jace. I’d had one every day that week, and when I woke up, I was sweating and panting and sometimes my hand was in my panties. My mind wanted to go back to that Saturday night, falling asleep cocooned in his arms, breathing in his scent, feeling his body against mine. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop dreaming about him. I wanted him like I’ve never wanted anything in my life and I didn’t know how much longer I could go on pretending to just be his friend. No, that’s not true. I did know: I couldn’t do it any longer. The whole time I was with him, all I could think about is how he feels and how he tastes and how badly I want to taste and feel him. I can’t pretend any longer that I’m just his friend. I want so much more that that; I want it all. I know that he’s a priest. But, he came on to me first. He looks at me like he wants so much more, and when he talks about the priesthood, there is no conviction behind it. What if he does want me as badly as he does in my dreams? What if he’s holding

back, afraid if he gives up his vocation that I won’t want him? Maybe I should tell him. Maybe if I just tell him how much I love him and want him…then maybe we can at least move forward, one way or the other. I got out of bed and took my usual cold shower. Even if he says no like he did before, at least I’ll know and I can start trying to move on. I can’t do that with this pretend friendship we’ve got going on. It’s his way of being around me because he’s incredibly attracted to me, too. I can see it on his face; I can feel it when we’re alone in a room. I can hear it in his voice when we talk. He can deny it if he wants to, but I know he wants me. After I got dressed, I did the only thing I knew to do that would ensure us a quiet, private, calm conversation: I went to confession. Yes, I knew how blasphemous it was. I was on my knees, pretending to pray, and waiting for everyone else to go first so I can have time with him…and I knew how bad this was. When it was finally my turn, I entered the confessional and out of habit I said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” “Daphne?” he whispered. “Yes, it’s me. I have to talk to you.” “Daphne, this isn’t the place.” “I know! Don’t you think I know that? I used to be so respectful of the church and all of the sacraments…but then I went and fell for a priest.” “Daphne, please, what if someone hears you?” “There’s no one left out there. I’m your last.” “We can’t talk about this here.”

“We are talking about it, Jace. I have to get this out, now. I dream about you every single night. They’re not innocent dreams. They’re hot, sexy, passionate dreams. It’s driving me crazy. I wake up wet and covered in sweat and smelling like sex. I can’t get you out of my head.” I stopped when I heard his side of the confessional open. He was just going to leave. I was such an idiot… Or maybe not. I heard the click of my door and I looked up into his sexy eyes. They had the most intense look in them that I’d ever seen. I thought he was there to scold me, but when I stood up, he took me into his arms and kissed me. His full lips caressed mine and then he used his tongue to part my lips and he slipped it into my mouth. He kissed me hungrily, and the idea that we were inside of a confessional, under the roof of the house of God, did not even entire my mind. His hands were all over me, touching me like a blind man who’d never seen a woman…like he was trying to memorize my every curve. When he broke the kiss, I thought that was it and he would leave. I was so wrong. He reached back and locked the door to the confessional behind us and then he began to disrobe, literally. When he had his cassock and collar off, I was surprised to see that all he had on underneath were boxers. I’d always wondered what they wore under those things. His uniform was suddenly the furthest thing from my mind as he ripped my dress up over her head, flipped me around, and unhooked my bra. Then he brought his hands around to cup my warm breasts. I felt his hard body pressed into my back, and I could feel his breath on my neck as he brushed past it and leaned in to nibble on my ear. I shuddered and pushed back into him. He growled low in his chest and flipped me around again to face him. He claimed my

mouth hungrily, forcing his tongue in and tasting every inch while his hands continued to caress my body. They were sliding down into the back of my underwear as I melted into his arm. My body was quivering all over as his hands traced my curves. His mouth found my collarbone and his hot breath left a trail across my skin as he nibbled and licked his way down to my nipples. I was out of my mind with lust as his fingers played with the edges of my panties around the tops of my thighs and his mouth found and claimed a rock-hard nipple. He sucked it in between his lips and held it there with his teeth while he flicked it and licked it with his tongue. He moved over and made love to the other one with his mouth, causing my warm juices to flood my panties and slide slowly down between my thighs. I felt him grab the top of my panties and begin pushing them down over my hips. He let his tongue play inside my bellybutton on the way down, and then he used his hands to gently part my thighs. His fingers played in the smooth, warm liquid that coated my thighs. I moaned and rubbed my hands through his hair as I thrust my hips forward, begging him to touch my pussy. It was on fire. My legs were growing so weak I had to press my back into the corner of the small, wooden closet. Finally, he touched me…and waves of electricity surged through my body. His fingers slid across my opening, all the way down, and then back up and across my aching clit. “So wet,” I heard him whisper as he stood back up and let one finger slide into me. He worked it in, burying it before he added another. He worked them in and out and I whimpered, almost on the verge of tears, unable to process the sensations he was sending through my body. I could feel how hard he was through his boxers now as he pressed into me hard,

fingering me and massaging my clit. I whined and pushed him back far enough to get my hands on those shorts and put them down. I needed him inside of me; I was past the point of want. I took him in my hand and delighted in the strangled sound that came from deep within his chest. He took another small step back and pulled his fingers out of me so he could push the shorts the rest of the way down and get them out of my way. As soon as they were gone, he thrust towards me. His hard cock disappeared between my thighs, and I could feel the heat of him as his hard erection slid across my clit, nearly sending me into convulsions. He reached down and wrapped his big arms around my hips and lifted me up off the ground. He shoved me back into the wall as I wrapped my legs around him, and then he entered me. The top of my head nearly exploded from the feeling of his hard cock buried deep inside of me. As he moved in and out of me, he engulfed my mouth once again with his. It was a raw, hard kiss that belied the need between us. His hands were cupping the cheeks of my ass, holding me tightly in place as he drove his cock into me. I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from crying out. He was so hot…and he filled me up completely. My breaths were coming in little gasps as he rocked up and down, back and forth, grinding his pelvis into mine, giving me every inch of his glorious erection. He pulled back and looked into my face with that incredibly intense look again as he quickened his pace and slammed into me again and again. He let go of one of my cheeks and brought his hand around to take a breast in his hand. He kneaded and massaged and squeezed and tweaked. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to control myself much longer; I needed to scream.

He must have sensed it because once again he covered my mouth with his, muffling both of our sounds. I felt him moan into my mouth as I felt him pinch down hard on my nipple. I was right there, on the edge, when I felt that hand slide down in between us. He let go of the kiss and let my body fall back slightly so his fingers could find my clit. When they did, they began to circle, pinch, and pull on it. My hips humped greedily against him as my fingernails raked the flesh on his back. I had to press my face into his shoulder, and from that point escaped my muffled screams. Shockwaves began to bolt through my body with each desperate thrust. I could actually feel him losing control as he pumped deeper and harder. I squeaked as the orgasm began to build and hurtle me towards a monumental climax. Everything blurred and I could barely see thanks to the sweat that poured down into my eyes. I was gasping as I felt him stiffen up against me, and then it was his turn to bury his face into me to muffle the sounds his body wanted to make with his release. Once he finished coming, I felt him shiver and shake, and then I suddenly went cold as he pulled out of me and lowered me to my feet. He bent down and picked up my dress and underwear and handed them to me, then he picked up his own and slipped them on. Still dazed from what had just happened, I slowly began to dress. Jace had his robes back on and holding his collar in his hand, he turned to the little door to go. “Wait… I don’t know… I mean, what does this mean?” He turned back to me, cupped my face in his hands and kissed me hard. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. Then he slipped out. I stood there in the house of the Lord that I loved and worshipped and waited to make sure the coast was clear…and then I slipped out, as well.

Chapter Thirty-Seven Jace I prayed every morning and every night, and 10 times in between, but He won’t talk to me. He won’t tell me what to do. I had sex in a confessional. I sat there and listened to her talk about her dreams and it sounded like she was describing my own. I felt myself get excited and I remembered waking up with her in my arms…and I just lost control. It’s bad enough that as a priest I was having sex at all…but in a confessional? In front of the altar? Had I no decency left at all? I didn’t know what was happening to me. I do know that I think more about Daphne than I do my faith. I can’t imagine what my life would be like now if she walked away; I couldn’t imagine life without being able to make love to her any longer, either. I knew now that when I was with her, my self-control was not just lacking — it was absent. She’d become my sustenance, she’d taken the place of the church in my eyes and she was the one I wanted to worship. Had I committed the ultimate sin? Or was this something God would forgive because I honestly thought there is no way I could control it if I wanted to. Maybe I wasn’t really meant to be a priest. Maybe it wasn’t so much my calling as it was my escape, and I no longer needed to hide from life. I wanted a life now…with Daphne.

I told her we would figure it out, but then I never called her. I was so confused. I knew she was, too, and I didn’t want to confuse her further. I couldn’t let the silence go on, though, or I might lose her. I couldn’t lose her. When I thought about that possibility, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had to make a decision. I had to talk to her and we had to come to a decision together. I can’t take this any longer. We have to figure it out now, today. I grabbed my keys and headed over to see her.

Chapter Thirty-Eight Daphne The knock on the door startled me. It was loud and sharp, and for just a second, I was afraid that it was my father again. Just in case, I looked through the peep hole. It was Jace and he looked upset, or worried. I opened the door and as soon as he saw me, he smiled. I loved having that effect on him, even if I wasn’t supposed to. “Hi.” “Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?” “Of course.” I stepped back to let him in, and he followed me over to the couch. I hadn’t heard from him since the day we had sex in the confessional, but that was okay; I had a lot of soul searching to do over that one. We sat down and neither of us said anything for a long time. At last, he said, “How do you keep your faith so strong?” “What?” I was sure he was there to talk about us and figuring this all out. That wasn’t what I expected. I didn’t exactly answer. Instead I said, “Maybe my faith is not as strong as I thought it was…considering.” He knew what I was talking about, but he said, “No, there is something about you, Daphne. Something that is so special it transcended everything for me. Everything I ever thought I knew or believed in. From the first moment I saw you in that bar…” I felt my face go hot. That whole night of the bar started this mess and every time I let myself think about it, I felt so cheap. “I don’t want to talk about the bar,” I told him. “But

we do need to talk about what happened in the confessional.” I didn’t want to talk about that, either, but we had to. It was taking its toll on us both. Instead of doing that, he moved in closer and took my hands into his. Just that small touch set my insides on fire. “It’s not often, Daphne, that I meet someone your age that just has this…aura of faith about them. I feel it when I’m with you and it fills me with light. I need to know more about that. I need to know where your faith comes from because I feel like I’m losing my own.” In my experience with men, which was very limited, whenever one of them wanted to have a conversation with me where we divulged secrets, it usually ended with him running for the hills. The only really serious relationship I’d been in ended that way, the second I told him about my life. Then there were the ones that wanted to pity me and protect me. They didn’t understand that although there were times like the night I reached out to Jace that I needed protection, most of the time, I just wanted to be treated the same as everyone else. I wanted them to recognize that I was strong in my own right and what my father had done to me had not made me weak and dependent. I didn’t want Prince Charming to swoop in and slay the dragons of my past. I wanted someone who would realize that as horrible as it was, it shaped the woman I am today. I wanted his respect and support, not his pity. I wasn’t sure which man Jace would be, but I was afraid either way. My gut was telling me not to go there, and I was usually better off when I listened to it. I couldn’t bear the thought of driving him completely away. Something inside of him called to me to, and I couldn’t deny it any longer. “Daphne, listen to me, please. I can see you struggling with how much you want to share with me, but I’m having doubts about everything in my life — except you. If you’re

feeling the same way, then maybe we can help each other through that. I think we have to tackle that first before we can figure out where to go from here.” “I am.” I said with tears beginning to fill my eyes. “I’m feeling the same way. My faith has been strong for a long time, but now, the way I feel about you has overshadowed it and I’m not sure what to do.” He was nodding. “I feel guilty all the time about what we’ve done, but there is something still inside of me that keeps saying it’s the right thing; it’s telling me that it’s my purpose, to be with you.” “I know. I feel the same. The guilt overwhelmed me at first, but this little voice inside of me kept asking what if you were the one I was meant to be with? What if you were who God put in my path? “I wish I knew, but I don’t. All I do know is that I can’t pretend any longer that you’re just my friend, because you are so much more than that to me.” “I’m glad you said that about the path. That’s what I keep asking God over and over: if I wasn’t meant to be with you and if this is wrong, then why did He put you in my path and give me these overwhelming feelings for you? “There has to be a reason we met. God has to have a plan for us, and I can’t imagine that plan is for us to have this kind of intense experience and then just walk away from one another and go on with our lives as we swallow the guilt.” If Jace really believes that, if he really thinks we’re destined to be together, then maybe he won’t run away when he knows the truth. If I am going to expect him to give up his life’s chosen work for me, then the very least I can do is tell him the truth and let him decide what to do with it on his own. I took a deep, shaky breath and said, “My faith comes from having nothing else and

no one else to turn to. I turned to God when I needed someone to tell my secrets to because they weighed much too heavily on my young shoulders. Things I couldn’t tell anyone else…” His brows were pulled together and he was looking worried again. “Things like what, Daphne?” I felt a tear slide down my face. “My mother died when I was very young. I’m not sure if that’s what prompted it…or if my father is just a sick bastard who has always been so…” Jace was giving me that look that other men had given me — the one that said they may be afraid they asked now. I swallowed the lump in my throat and went on. “My father beat me…and he raped me. When I finally got away, I was sure it was because throughout it all, I had kept my faith in God. Otherwise, I believe he would have killed me. I needed a stable parent in my life and God gave me that. I learned that He would love me unconditionally and would never, ever hurt me, so that was where I turned.” Jace was staring at me, and I couldn’t read the look on his face. I reached up and wiped the silent tears off my cheeks and waited. If he was going to run, it would be now. If he was going to pity me, I would see it… and hear it in his voice. He didn’t do either. All at once, he nodded and said, “That’s it,” in a soft voice. Confused, I said, “What? What’s it?” “It’s that strength, that will to survive that I see and feel coming from inside of you. It’s immense, bigger than most people and the strongest kind of faith a person can experience. I know this for a fact.”

I smiled slightly at his analysis. It was the best I’d ever heard and instead of making me feel like a freak, it made me feel warm and safe inside. “How do you know it for a fact?” I asked him. “I recognize it because I feel it. I feel it because I’ve been there, too. “My mother was a raging alcoholic. She went through boyfriends the way she did liquor and each one of them got worse. My brothers and I were never sexually assaulted, but we were beaten, sometimes so severely that we had to go to the hospital. We all have different fathers and none of us knew who any of them were; that was probably a blessing. “She got into drugs, too, eventually. She owed a lot of money to her dealers. I think she worked some of it off with her body and some of it by selling drugs. But apparently, not all of it. “She was murdered in the house one night while we were all sleeping. Her boyfriend at the time wasn’t home when it happened. When he got home, he got high before he called the police. “Ryan was just starting to pull himself up at the time. He grabbed a baggie of something off the coffee table and spilled it all over. He knocked Ryan across the room and then got up and went after him again. “Max and I got between them, and he beat us both so badly we all had to be in the hospital for a while. By the time we got out, they had finally tracked down my grandmother. “Mom had taken off when Max was born and never told Grandma where she was. She had always told us that her mother was a horrible person and if we didn’t behave, she would send us there and Grandma would torture us like she did her. “Grandma never stopped looking for Max. Mom wasn’t supposed to have custody of him because she was already a mess when he was born. Grandma had kept in touch with the police for years, and when my mother died, one of the detectives connected the two

and called her. “She was surprised when she found three of us and not one, but she didn’t hesitate to take us in. Ryan had a lot of problems after that and that was the biggest reason that he and Grandma ended up so close. I think it also has a lot to do with how he is still so childlike. We give him a lot of leeway because of it.” “I’m so sorry, Jace.” He gave me a weak smile. “Going to live with Grandma was the best thing that ever happened to us. She was an amazing woman and in all of the years I knew her, her faith in God never wavered. “She was the reason I found mine and also the reason I began to question it. The night I met you, we had just buried her. I was drinking because I couldn’t handle the pain and I was questioning why God would take her.” “That night, my father somehow got my phone number and called me. He said some disgusting things; that’s why I was there.” “I guess we have a lot more in common than we thought,” he said. I smiled. “Sadly.” He reached for me and pulled me into his chest. He didn’t run, and he didn’t pity me. He understood me. I looked up into his eyes. I could see how strongly he felt for me. I put my hand on the side of his face and kissed him. Our tongues tangled and our breaths meshed and I knew that he was right: we were meant to be. “Get undressed,” he said against my mouth.

Chapter Thirty-Nine Daphne I stood up and wiggled out of my shorts and panties, and then I pulled off my t-shirt and bra and tossed then aside. I leaned down and took his face into my hands. I put my lips against his and we shared an intense, mind-blowing kiss. As our tongues danced, he moved his hands up and grasped my breasts, squeezing them firmly. I gasped and intensified the kiss, trying to reach my tongue as far down his throat as I could. His hands left my breasts and slid down my sides to my hips. I broke the kiss after a few minutes. We were both breathless and I leaned my forehead into his while we both caught our breath. His gaze was filled with lust, and his hands were inching up my back and running across my shoulders, brushing my hair away with his fingers and tantalizing me and turning me on even more than I already was. I put my feet down on the floor and then dropped to my knees between his legs. I reached up and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. I took hold of the waistband with both hands, hooking my fingers into his boxers. He lifted his hips, and I pulled them off of his hips and down across his thighs. I worked them down to his ankles, and he slipped his feet out of them as I leaned in and took his hard cock into both of my hands and let my tongue make contact with the shaft. I watched his face as I swirled my tongue around he swollen head, relishing the taste of him.

I watched his eyes widen as I slipped my lips over it and engulfed his entire shaft. I sucked him all the way in until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. Reaching down to touch his balls, I began to gently massage them as I bobbed my head up and down on him. “Oh my God!” he choked out. His excitement made me that much more excited, and I started sucking deeper and harder. He moved his hips up and down and wrapped his hands in my hair, fisting it up and tugging on it as he thrust his erection in and out of my mouth. He began to groan and I felt him grow and swell in my mouth. He used his grip on my hair to pull me off of him and then he took me by the arms and pulled me back onto his lap. He gave me another smoking hot kiss as I reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. He finished taking it off and tossed it aside. I loved his taut, sculpted chest. I ran my fingers across it reverently and leaned down to kiss him along his collarbone. He took my face in his hands and pulled me back up to his lips. He kissed my mouth softly and then let his lips move down along my jaw to my throat. He kissed his way across my neck and as he did, his hands moved to my breasts and began to caress and squeeze them, taking time to tweak and lightly pinch my hard nipples. I moaned as I felt him dip his head down and flick his tongue across one of my nipples. One of his hands was moving down between us, and I wiggled my thighs open and whimpered in anticipation of what was to come. I moaned again as his probing fingers began to explore me, gently prying my lips open and letting his thumb stroke against my swollen clit. Suddenly, he flipped me back on the couch so I was lying down. His mouth moved straight down between my thighs. I moaned and squirmed in ecstasy as he began to suck

and lick on my clit. I felt him slide one finger up inside of me and crook it against the walls of my pussy. He moved it around inside of me, making me want to scream. I put my hands in his hair and pulled on it, opening my thighs even wider as he sucked my clit into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed one of my breasts, while he continued to lick my pussy from one end to the other. It felt so good. I was grinding my pussy into his face and down on his hand and shuddering all over when the first gigantic orgasmic wave hit me. I thanked God we weren’t in a church as I let myself go and cried out loudly. I didn’t care if the neighbors heard. It felt too good to keep quiet about it. He licked me through the orgasm and after giving me a few seconds to recover, he pulled his finger out and began kissing his way back up my still quivering body. He licked and sucked my nipples and then moved all the way up and kissed me hard, letting me taste myself on his sexy lips. I felt him take his cock into his hand and press it up against my opening. I groaned again and wiggled my hips to open my thighs up even wider. I cried out as I felt him slide into me. As soon as he was inside of me, I began rocking my hips back and forth, trying to grind my hips into his. He grinned. “Slow down there, tiger.” I giggled, breathlessly. He was right, I was in a hurry. I just knew how good it was going to feel. He moved in and out of me slowly for a while, kissing me and sucking on my neck, raking his hands over my body. I moved with him and soon we found a smooth rhythm

that we kept for a while. As I felt another orgasm beginning to build, I started moving faster. He moaned and matched my pace, plunging in and out of my pussy now as quickly as he could. I lifted my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, using my feet to drive him into me. I was writhing uncontrollably beneath him and I screamed out in ecstasy when the tension exploded into another wild orgasm. My pussy went into spasms around his cock and once again, I felt his whole-body shudder. He kept pounding into me breathing heavier, stroking harder and whispering my name — and something in Latin, I think — just before he exploded inside of me. He rocked back and forth slowly for several seconds before at last collapsing down on top of me and gasping for breath. We were both slick with sweat and he rubbed his chest back and forth against my breasts before pulling his weight up off of me. He looked down at me and grinned. I shivered again and we lay there as he held me and gently kissed the side of my face. I was surprised as I felt him growing hard again already against my thigh. He moved his lips to my neck and licked and sucked there again and then he pressed his lips to my ear and said, “I’m not done yet, beautiful.” He sat up, taking me with him. I was on his lap, and I straddled his hips. He reached down and gave himself a few strokes before lining up with my lips and pushing up into me. I used my knees to move myself up and down on his shaft with my breasts rubbing against his face and his lips. He stuck his tongue out and caught a nipple every so often, sending an electric shock down my spine each time. He sucked one into his mouth and nibbled on my nipple as he clutched onto my hips and I continued to ride him. His fingers dug into my flesh and he used the sides of his

teeth to scrape my nipples. I felt like my head was going to explode just about the time he pulled me up off of him. “What…what?” I gasped. I couldn’t get enough air to speak and my mouth was completely dry. “Stand up, baby, and hold onto the back of the couch.” Jace was getting adventurous. I didn’t complain or even hesitate. I stood up and gripped the back of the sofa. I felt him move in behind me and his hands grasped my hips as he slid his cock back up inside of me. I gasped as he pushed himself into me so deep that the flesh of his pelvis slapped up against the flesh of my ass. He didn’t go slowly this time; he started pumping hard and fast. He left one hand on my hip to hold me in place and he slid the other one up and grasped one of my breasts and played with it while he continued to thrust into me at a frenetic pace. Our bodies were melded together in a wave of undulating motion, accented by gasping, panting, and guttural moans and grunts. I felt him clamp his fingers down tightly on my nipple first and then the swell of his cock and the clamp of my smooth walls around it, just before we both came together in another mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm. Within seconds, we both collapsed into an exhausted, sweaty heap of satisfied flesh. We lay there, gasping, until we both caught our breath and then he said, “I’m not sure if I can continue to be a priest. I need you, Daphne, and I won’t ever be able to fully commit to anything that will keep me from you.” His words filled my heart with a joy that I’d never experienced before. Not because he said he was thinking about giving up his vocation, but because he said that he needed me. I needed him, too, more than I’ve ever needed anything. I kissed his face and said, “Whatever you decide to do, I will support. I just want to be

with you.”

Chapter Forty Jace I spent the week trying to figure out what to do. I saw Daphne every day, but we hadn’t had sex again since that night on the couch. I loved just being with her. We had dinner together, watched television, cuddled…normal couple stuff. Things that I, as a priest, should never experience. The only way I would ever be able to completely devote myself to her is if I left the church. I wished that was as easy as quitting a job. There were so many parts of it I loved and so much of it I believed in deeply. It wouldn’t be easy, but when I compared it with the idea of leaving Daphne, there was no contest. I had to be with her. She’d become my lifeline. I was about to go out to the grocery store when my phone rang. I looked at it and saw that it was Ryan. I rolled my eyes. I love my brother, but sometimes I am just not in the mood for him. With a deep sigh, I slid it to answer and put it to my ear. “Hey, bro, what’s up?” “Nothing much, I just wondered if you happened to catch that Yanks’ game last night?” “Yeah, they got lucky.” I wasn’t a Yankees fan; it drove my brothers crazy. “Lucky my ass,” he said. “It was pure skill and they’re going to the Series this year.” I laughed. “You keep dreaming, little bro. Maybe one day that’ll come true. Doubtful,

but nothing is impossible.” “Like you having sex?” “Man, Ryan, you have got to stop saying that. For one thing, it never should have happened while I was still wearing the collar.” “Wait…what? While you were ‘still’ wearing it? What do you mean by that?” Damn, I didn’t mean to bring this up until I decided for sure what to do. I was stuck now. I knew Ryan and he won’t just let anything go. “Yeah, I’m thinking about leaving the church.” “For what? A good fuck?” “Ryan! Knock it off.” “Sorry…Father. Jace, listen to me, and let me finish before you chastise my language, okay? Some things just need to be said straight up. Man, the first time I got me a taste of pussy, I knew what it must feel like to do drugs. I would do anything to get it again, and again and again. But dude, after a while…as much as I still love me some pussy…I figured out it’s not worth giving things up that are that important to you. “You’ve been the best one of us your whole life. Grandma saw it and that’s why you’re the one she pushed towards the church and not me or Max. Look, I’m as Catholic as the next guy…” I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “What? I go to church…almost every Sunday.” “Okay, forgive me. I somehow thought that living the life of a good Catholic, the rest of the week mattered.” “Look who’s talking.” “I know this, Ryan. This is why I need to leave. I don’t want to live a double life, but I do want to live a life with Daphne. She’s what’s been missing all along. She’s what I’ve

been looking for. I love her.” “Whoa, the L word. Wow! So, you’ve decided this for sure?” “No, not for sure. I know that it’s what I want; I’m just still trying to figure out if it’s the right thing. I’m hoping God will send me some kind of sign.” Ryan busted up laughing. I waited until he was finished and then I said, “It’s so good to have your support.” “Hey, I’m an asshole and we both know it. But, I always have your back, no matter what you decide, okay? Just make sure you’re doing what’s best for you in the long run.” “Thanks, man. I love you.” “I love you, too.”

Chapter Forty-One Daphne I was gathering up my laundry to take it down to the laundry room when there was a knock on my door. I felt a tickle in my belly. I was hoping it was Jace since he knew I had the day off. I pulled it open with a big smile and found Bethany standing there. “Oh… hey!” She raised an eyebrow. “Who were you expecting?” “No one, come on in.” She walked in and looked around like she was looking for someone. “I really wasn’t expecting anyone. You want some coffee?” “I’d love some.” While I got the Keurig ready, she said, “What was the big, cheesy smile about when you opened the door?” “I’m just happy. What’s wrong with that?” “Nothing wrong with it,” she said. “It’s just unusual.” I laughed. “Really? Am I usually that miserable?” I pulled out one cup and handed it to her and fixed the next cup for me. She poured sugar and cream into her drink and stirred it while she stared at me. “What?” “Why would you see someone and not want to tell me?” Giggling nervously, I said, “What are you talking about?” She sighed. “I came by last night. I was parking, and I looked up and saw you letting a man in here. Then today, you act like you’re expecting someone and you’re really happy

about it. I thought we were friends. Why are you holding out on me?” “Jesus, Beth! We are friends, best friends. Look at all you did for me, getting me this job and helping me find this apartment. I love you.” She carried her cup over to the table and sat down. I finished fixing my coffee and went and sat down with her. “Then why don’t you want to talk to me?” she asked with a pout. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… I’m just… It’s just…” “Oh, Daphne, please tell me it’s not the priest. Please!” I made the mistake of telling Bethany about Jace one drunken night. Then I also made the mistake of introducing her to my church…Jace’s church. I didn’t think it was a big deal until now. She was taking church serious…like I should be. “It’s not. I told him that was over…” “When?” “Right afterward.” “You’re lying. You told me afterward that you were still thinking about him.” I guess I had told her the same things as I did Carla. “Why are you pushing this? It’s not like you to get so involved in other people’s business.” “First off, you’re not just ‘other’ people, Daph. You’re my best friend. Second, this is a priest. You should not be having sex with a priest. Do you know what kind of horrible sin that is?” “Yeah, I do. That’s why we’re not still seeing each other.” “I hope you’re not lying to me. It still doesn’t explain who I saw coming in here last

night.” “He was just a friend, that’s all.” “What’s his name?” “Ryan.” Jace’s brother was the first man who came to mind. She was still looking at me suspiciously. “Your face is red. I love you, Daph, but I think you’re lying. Honey, you know I’m no prude. I would have no argument with you going out and getting a little. But, baby girl, you cannot be having sex with a priest.” “I heard you, Bethany. I told you-” “I know what you said. I don’t believe you. This is so wrong.” Jesus. This is what I get for recruiting Catholics, I guess. “Bethany, it’s really over. I need you to not tell anyone it ever happened, okay? You’ll ruin his life and possibly mine. If you won’t do it for him, please, do it for me.” “You have to promise me it’s over. I can’t sit in church every week and listen to him saying mass and know he screwed you the night before.” I was on the verge of both losing my best friend and being exposed for sleeping with a priest. I wanted so badly to tell her that at least I was only sleeping with one man. At least I didn’t sleep with every man I went out with, but I knew even in spite of the fall-out that might bring about, it was wrong. I did love Bethany in spite of her wild lifestyle and I wasn’t going to use that against her. “I promise, Beth. Please promise me you won’t say anything.” She looked reluctant but she said, “Okay…fine, I promise. But Daph, if I see you two together-”

“You won’t, okay? You just won’t.” She stayed and finished her coffee, but things were weird between us when she left. I regretted ever telling her. She could ruin Jace, and in the process, me.

Chapter Forty-Two Jace “Father Jace, which hymn should I open with this week?” Mrs. Smythe, our church’s 70-year-old pianist, was in my office at the church. She’d come in to ask me something about an upcoming wedding and the conversation had gone way south…the way it usually did with Mrs. Smythe. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Smythe; whichever hymn you prefer.” “I’m just not sure, Father…” She may have gone on all day, but at that moment, the Bishop walked in with two other priests I didn’t recognize. I jumped to my feet, and Mrs. Smythe’s eyes widened as if God Himself had just walked in. The Bishop smiled at her, and she giggled like a schoolgirl and raced out. He landed his steely gaze on me then…minus the smile. “Father Jace, this is Father Michael and Father Richard. They work at the diocese with me in the investigations unit. Can we speak with you for a few moments?” “Of course, Bishop O’Dell. There’s not much room in here; would you like to go into the conference room?” My palms were suddenly sweating. There was only one reason why the Bishop was there with two church investigators. “That will be fine.” We went down the hall and once we were seated around the table, he said, “It was brought to my attention that you’ve been…allegedly…having sexual relations with a woman. I have to say that I really hope it’s not true; but you have been seen with a woman, the same woman, on more than one occasion, according the reports.

You can confirm or deny this for us, or we’ll have to open up a full investigation.” My first instinct was to lie and deny it. God, I’m not only a bad priest, I’m a terrible Catholic. Lies and deceit seem to come so easily to me lately. I can’t lie to him. I need to just get this over with. I need to man up and take the consequences. I opened my mouth and suddenly I heard myself telling my brother that I was looking for a sign. Maybe this was it. Maybe remaining quiet and letting them investigate was going to be my best bet. If they couldn’t prove anything, I could leave the church without a scandal. Daphne wouldn’t say anything and I didn’t know who thought they know what, but no one had seen us have sex, so they could not prove it. “I don’t have a problem with you doing an investigation, Bishop. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple coming in for their pre-marital counseling right now.” “No, Father Jace. You are suspended pending the investigation.” I felt sick to my stomach. Maybe that was my sign.

Chapter Forty-Three Daphne I texted Jace for the third time that day and he didn’t respond. I was beginning to get worried. He knew that I had to work, and he’d said he would try and come by after he finished at the church. It wasn’t like him to just not show up and not call. I tried calling him again; his phone just kept going straight to voicemail. I had a really bad feeling in my gut, but I had to get to work. I tried convincing myself that he was just busy…that had to be it. I went into work and we were busy because, as usual, we were short a server. Every time I got a break, I would check my phone, but still nothing from Jace. I was really worried. I was even getting a little snappy with my customers, which was not good. Finally, when the night was over, I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to see him and know that he was okay. I drove over to his apartment and knocked frantically on his door. I was both relieved and anxious when I saw him. I was relieved to see that he was okay… but as soon as I saw his face, I knew that something was very wrong.

Chapter Forty-Four Jace I sat all afternoon, staring off into space and trying like hell to figure out what to do. I was also trying to figure out how they knew. The only people I had told or even let onto were my brothers. I knew the Diocese didn’t find out from them. My mind toyed with the idea that Daphne set me up…but why? I can feel how she feels about me, can’t I? Would she get angry enough at me for not leaving the priesthood for her that she’d do something like this? She said she’d support me no matter what. Did she mean it? I had pretty much already decided to leave the Church, but I didn’t want it to happen like this. Daphne would be dragged into it even if she wasn’t the one who ratted me out. There would be a huge scandal and with social media, it would be spread from coast to coast in a day’s time. Maybe I was a fool for choosing the investigation. Maybe, had I just admitted it, they would have covered it up. I jumped when the knock came at my door and broke the extreme silence in the room. I got up and looked through the door. It was Daphne, as if I’d conjured her up with my thoughts. I pulled the door open and, as soon as I saw her in the flesh, I lost it. “Who did you tell?” Her face looked genuinely confused. “Tell what? What are you talking about?” I looked around to see if anyone was listening and then decided this was not a

conversation for in front of the apartment. I took a hold of her arm and guided her in the door. Once it was closed, I said, “About us, Daphne. How does the Diocese know I had sex?” Her mouth fell open, and she looked shocked. “They know? What happened?” “Never mind that right now, Daphne. I thought you cared about me.” “God, Jace, I do care about you. I didn’t tell them. I wouldn’t do that. I can’t believe you think that I did.” I ran my hand through my hair and said, “I just don’t know what to think; but it’s over now. What a mess.” She didn’t say anything to that. She looked shocked, but I think she was also angry with me for accusing her. I guess she had a right, but I was not in the frame of mind to take it back. She took a deep breath finally and said, “I care so much about you, Jace. I would never do anything to compromise your life. I told you leaving was up to you. I meant that.” “Then if you didn’t, who did, Daphne? Who else knew?” Her eyes widened, and I could see the exact moment she made the connection. “I told my friend Bethany.” “The one you work with?” She nodded. “She swore to me she wouldn’t tell anyone.” Daphne was on the verge of tears. I hated that my anger was making her cry, but I was still too upset to come outside of myself and comfort her. “I begged her not to tell. She promised me…” I couldn’t believe she told anyone, but at the same time, who was I to judge? I told my brothers because I needed to tell someone…she probably did it for the same reason. “You didn’t tell her on purpose, did you? To get me forced out so that you and I could be

together?” Now she really looked like she wanted to cry. I didn’t think her tears were from sadness, though. I think she was just so angry with me for the accusations. “How could you think that? You say you thought I cared about you? I thought you cared about me! How could you even consider that I would be that devious?” I took a deep breath. She was right. It would hurt me if she accused me of something like that. I was just overwhelmed and frightened. I was taking it out on her. “I’m sorry; I don’t think you’re devious at all. I had a bad day and there are going to be a lot more to come. I’m sorry I took it out on you.” “What happened?” “The bishop came in with his investigators. They said they had a report that I’d been dating and having sexual relations with a woman. I didn’t confirm or deny it; I just said I would cooperate with the investigation. They have suspended me in the meantime.” “I’m sorry,” she said. I could see the wheels turning in her head and finally, she said, “Were you still thinking about leaving…and us being together?” “Yes, but I wanted to leave on good terms. I still wanted to be able to practice my Catholicism without being looked on like a pariah. I also didn’t want you drug into the latest gossip binge.” “How would they prove it?” I shrugged. “If you deny it, then they can’t.” “Then I’ll just deny it.” “But, they’ll be expecting it. So then, they’ll interview parishioners and other clergy and your name will be dragged through the mud in the process. I don’t want you to have to go through that.”

“What are your options?” “I can take my chances and wait for them to finish the investigation, which will probably go on for months. I can tell the truth, and if I don’t accept retreat and counseling, then I’ll be stripped of my vows. Or, I can bow out before any of this happens.” “What do you mean, ‘bow out’?” “Tell them that the priesthood isn’t for me, anyways, and that I’d like to save them an investigation and scandal.” “So, which do you think is your best option?” “I really don’t know,” I told her.

Chapter Forty-Five Daphne Jace and I talked for a long time. By the time I left, I’m sure he had no doubts that I didn’t do this maliciously. But, he was still worried about how it would all come out and torn up about what to do about it. I hated seeing him that way. I felt helpless and really angry with Bethany for stabbing me in the back. I called her as soon as I got home, but she didn’t answer. I left her a message and just asked her to call me back. I didn’t want to ask her anything in a message. I wanted to hear her voice when she told me that she did this, and why. The next morning as I was straightening up after breakfast, she called me back. “Hey, girl! What are you doing?” “I’m just straightening up, what about you?” “I just came from my work-out. It was a good one today. It kicked my butt, though.” “I’ve been thinking about joining a gym. How do you like yours?” “It’s okay; there aren’t many in town, but I think this one is the best.” I couldn’t do this. I just had to get it over with. “Did you go to the Diocese about Jace after you promised me that you wouldn’t?” “What?” “Please don’t act innocent here, Bethany. Who did you tell?” She was quiet for a long time before she said, “I’m sorry, Daph. I’m so sorry.”

“Who did you tell? You promised me.” “I know! I’m so sorry. I’m just a big gossip. Sometimes I don’t think before I open my mouth.” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Good, maybe it will make her think before she opens her mouth next time. “Bethany, who did you tell?” “This woman at the gym. She and I were talking, and she mentioned him…out of the blue. She said their church had a new priest and I said, ‘Oh, ours, too.’ We figured out we went to the same church. Then it just slipped out.” “It slipped? How loose are your lips?” “Daphne, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t hate me. I never meant to hurt you…or him, honest.” I was furious with her, but at the same time, I could see that as with me telling her and starting this whole thing, she really didn’t have any malicious intent. “Daphne, what happened? How did you know I told someone?” “Because that someone went to the Diocese and Jace has been stripped of his duties while under investigation.” “Oh, shit!” “Yeah, you got that right. Poor Jace is a wreck. I’m so scared for him. He’s a good man, he’s just been confused and it wasn’t entirely his fault. I’m scared for him.” “Oh, damn! I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do, please let me know. I am so sincerely sorry.” I was on the verge of telling her she had done quite enough when I stopped myself. She didn’t mean to hurt me or Jace. Jace and I had to accept the consequences of our

actions and it wasn’t Bethany’s fault. “I don’t think there is, but thanks,” was what I ended up saying. I could hear the relief in her voice as she said, “Please call me if you hear anything.” I didn’t hear from Jace for the next few days. I knew he was struggling and he was probably busy with the investigation, but a text or two would have been nice. I felt like I was losing my mind sometimes, and at the same time, I was relieved that I hadn’t heard from the church yet. I didn’t think I could lie when in a room face to face with a bishop and a couple of priests. I would try, for Jace…but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t do it well. Since they hadn’t called me, I was beginning to hope they wouldn’t. Maybe they haven’t figured out yet that it was me. I didn’t think Jace would ever tell them. I might know that better if he would talk to me. The church, unfortunately, is one of the biggest gossip mills around and I hadn’t heard anything there yet. No one seemed to know what was going on. I did hear that it had been announced Jace would be away for a while, but never said why. There was a visiting priest covering for him. I didn’t hear any of that first-hand. I got it from my customers who knew I attended their church. I hadn’t been to church in a couple of weeks. I wanted to hear that they never found out, or they did, before I showed up with a scarlet letter on my chest. I did not want to find out when people were already whispering and giggling about me as I walk by. It wasn’t that I really cared what they thought about me, but I hated to think about the things they would say about Jace. Then there was the simple fact that I missed him so badly that I ached. I was probably

just being paranoid, but I was afraid that if people saw us together, I wouldn’t be able to hide how I felt. So with all of this playing in the background, I went to work and I went home and I worried myself almost to death. I also had to wonder why I couldn’t just stay away from him like this in the first place…then we wouldn’t be in this place. Maybe I hadn’t stayed away because then it was just lust. Lust is hard to ignore…but now I was pretty sure I loved him and staying away was what was in his best interest, and I wanted him to be happy more than anything. I was pretty sure I was hopelessly, madly, head-over-heels in love with him and I was also pretty sure that he loved me, too.

Chapter Forty-Six Jace I waited nervously in the outer office for Bishop McDougal. I’d beat my brains trying to find the right decision. I kept waiting for a sign, but when I really searched within myself, I found out that I truly believed just meeting Daphne was the sign. I never should have been in that bar and it wasn’t a normal place for her to be, either…but we were both there. I put everything together that had happened over the past couple of months and the way I was feeling about my choices and my faith after Grandmother died, and I finally came to the conclusion that there was no right and wrong. God gives us free will and that free will was telling me to follow my heart. My heart was across town, with Daphne, and that’s where it wanted to stay. “Father Jace? The Bishop will see you now,” his secretary said as she took me into his office. I took a chair opposite his desk and looked at the religious artifacts along the wall behind him. I still got a feeling of peace in my heart when I was in or around a church. I wasn’t as worried anymore that God and I wouldn’t be okay. I felt He’d given me His blessing. I took a deep breath and I said, “How are you, sir?” The bishop looked at me like he was waiting for me to drop a bomb. He thought I was there to confess. I suppose I could have, but I didn’t see the point. God knew what I had done. His opinion, and mine and Daphne’s, are all that really matter.

“I’m fine, Father,” he said. “What can I do for you?” I knew I was doing the right thing, but from childhood, the leaders of the church had been my male role models. Sitting face to face with him and telling him this was different than practicing it in my head. Quickly, before I lost my nerve I said, “I was wondering if I should step down and save the church the annoyance and embarrassment of having me investigated. I know these things can often take months, if not years, and you won’t be able to put a permanent replacement in place until it’s over. I want to do what’s best for the church. I also think that at this point in my life, it would be best for me.” He raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “You’re willing to just give up your calling that easily?” I sighed, “May I speak frankly with you, Bishop?” “Please do.” “For some time now, since the death of my grandmother, I’ve had serious struggles with my faith. At least, I thought it was my faith. “But, with much soul searching and praying I think the conclusion that I’ve come to is that it’s not my faith I’m struggling with. It’s my choice to become a priest. I was a confused kid when I decided to do this. It was what my Grandmother hoped for me, as well. I wanted to please her and I felt safe here. I thought that was enough to justify taking the vows. “I think, though, that I finally realized that I don’t have to be a priest to be a good Catholic, and I think that’s where I became a little lost and confused. I thought this was what I needed to do in order to have a relationship with God, but I don’t believe that’s true any longer.

“So, since I have these issues with the investigation and all, and I’ve already been considering leaving…maybe now would be the best time to go and just make a clean break. It would probably save us all a lot of embarrassment and trouble.” He nodded slowly. “I hear what you’re saying. There’s no sin in deciding this isn’t for you and walking away…as long as you’re okay with God. I will offer you counseling, Father Jace, and I will encourage you to examine yourself more deeply than you ever have before. This is not a big step; this is a huge, life-altering step.” “I do realize that, sir. I have dug down deeper than I ever have, and I do believe this is the right thing…the only thing for me to do.” “Okay, I will begin the process with the Diocese and we will call you for your exit conference when everything is ready. I’m sorry to see you go, Father, but we all have to do what’s right for us, as well as the church. “I appreciate your honesty with me about this and I do appreciate you doing this now before we went through the effort and expense of a lengthy investigation.” I thanked him and shook his hand. He gave me a blessing before I left. As I walked through the church on my way out, something about it felt different. I still felt at peace, but there was another, lighter feeling there, too. I didn’t really understand what it was until I got home. I looked around my place and thought about what I was going to do with the rest of my life. In that moment, I realized that having that freedom of choice also gave me a feeling of relief. I knew the first thing I wanted to do was go get the woman I loved. I love Daphne, and as long as she and I are together, I have faith that the rest of it will fall into place. My faith is restored in God, and in life…all thanks to her.



Chapter Forty-Seven Daphne An entire week went by without a word from Jace. Every time I was anywhere near his side of town, I thought seriously about stopping by and confronting him. I was a nervous wreck and had so many questions. Why was he shutting me out? Did our time together mean so little that he could just walk away that easily without a word? Did he just need time? I wasn’t sure. I had no idea what to do. So, I did nothing. I went to work every day and went through the motions of my life. Bethany and I didn’t really talk anymore. I’d forgiven her, but I couldn’t forget. Her betrayal hurt me deeply, mostly because it had hurt Jace. I knew that I couldn’t live like that forever. Carla was the only person I had to talk to and that was only on the phone. She was as supportive as she could be, but the second I hung up with her, I was reminded once more of how alone I really was. I’d never been so confused or felt so empty in my life…and considering my life, that was saying a lot. I was working double shifts to keep busy, but was dead on my feet. I finally kept my day off. I had to get some rest; I was running on nerves and lots of caffeine. Speaking of which, I had just gotten out of the shower and finished my coffee and was thinking about what I needed to get done when there was a knock on the door. I went over and looked out the hole. Jace’s beautiful face was there and he was smiling. He looked…radiantly happy. I pulled it open, and I had to remember to breathe.

“Hi…” I had barely got the word out before he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. At first, I was so overwhelmingly happy to know he still wanted me that I responded. I reveled in the feel of his hands on my body, his lips on mine, and his tongue in my mouth. God, I loved kissing him. It took me several seconds to get a reign on rational thought and my anxiety returned. What is he doing? People will see us! He’s under investigation! I felt panic well up in my chest. They could be watching us right now. I pulled my lips away and grabbed his arm. I pulled him inside the apartment and slammed the door behind him. I know I was looking at him like he was crazy; I thought he’d lost his mind. But, he was still smiling. “Are you insane?” I finally said when I caught my breath and found my voice. He laughed and I thought, Maybe he’s drunk. “No,” he said, “I’m not insane. At least, not much. I have good news, though.” My fear was replaced by hope instantly. “Oh my God! Is the investigation over? Were you cleared?” I knew it was too soon, but he was all over me on my doorstep. I couldn’t think of any other reason he’d be so excited. “Have a seat,” he said, calmly. “But…” I couldn’t wait to hear his news. Why didn’t he just tell me? He laughed again. “Daphne, sit down, please.” I sat. I wasn’t happy about it. I wanted to know what was going on. Right then. I wanted instant gratification so that we could kiss more. “Let me get through this before you say anything, okay?” I nodded. It was going to be hard, but for him, I would do it. He said, “I’m not a priest any longer.” My stomach fell as I suddenly thought maybe he was let go, kicked out, ostracized…

all because of me. There was a part of me that guiltily celebrated, too. Now we can be together! That’s what the public kiss was about. I kept my mouth shut though, although it was hard as hell. “I’ve been soul-searching since the night I met you, trying to figure out why I would do what you and I were doing without regard to the fact that I’d taken a vow of celibacy and promised my life to the church. I came to some big conclusions about that. “Once I did that, I went to the Diocese and I told them that I would step down so they didn’t have to have this big investigation. I also told them that this wasn’t a snap decision. I’ve put a lot of thought into it. I’ve agonized over it and I’ve prayed over it. “This is what I kept coming back to: being a priest was not my calling. Being a Catholic is completely separate from that and I can still have a relationship with God.” He paused to take a breath and I opened my mouth. He smiled and held up a finger. I stayed silent as he reached and took my face in his hands. Leaning in close, he said, “I realized that this was the only decision that would allow me to be happy. I realized that since that first night, I had already chosen you. It’s the right choice, as long as you choose me, too?” I decided that I didn’t need to speak. I let my lips meet his and we kissed, passionately, speaking without any words; we were talking to each other through our hearts and our souls. A sense of peace washed over me and although I knew Jace and I would have a lot to figure out, and our lives would never be perfect, we could be happy, as long as we were together. He kissed the corner of my mouth and then up along the side of my face to my ear. He pressed his lips into me and said, “You take my breath away, Daphne.”

I couldn’t speak. No man had ever told me that. I kissed him again, this time with even more passionately. When he pulled back he let those sexy, intense eyes roam across my body. “Take off your clothes,” he said as he stood up off the couch. “Take them off.” He pulled off his shirt. The sight of his naked chest got me busy. I pulled off my shirt and as I was tossing it aside I felt him drop to his knees in front of me and pull at the waistband of the shorts and panties I was wearing. He pulled them down to my feet and I lifted my feet so he could pull them all the way off. Then, I felt the warmth of his hands around my calves. He ran them up my body, pushing me back into the couch as he did. He was suddenly straddling me, looming over me. I could feel his hard erection pushing against his jeans and into the top of my mound. Looking up at him like that was so arousing. He flexed into me and I shuddered as I felt the fool force of his arousal. He bent down and nipped at the lobe of my ear. God, he’s so sexy and he smells so good. The whole picture had the effect of gasoline being poured on the fire he had constantly smoldering in the pit of my belly. He pressed his lips into me again, and I felt his warm breath and the vibrations of his voice as he said, “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” “Yes, but not today,” I breathed out with a grin. I felt him smile. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered into me before letting his mouth travel from there down the side of my face to my throat. He left a trail of kisses across my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, he kissed and licked his way down my chest, between my already aching breasts. I arched up into him. I wanted him to suck on my nipples, but he moved on right past

them, stopping at the top of my hip. I shuddered and with his mouth still pressed into me he said, “Do you like that, baby?” “Mm hmm…” I was incapable of rational speech, but I knew this was different than before. Jace was making love to me. All the other times had been satisfying a driving need. Today, we were free to make love like any other couple. I was going to love this. My back was still arched up off the couch. He slipped one of his big, warm hands underneath me and grabbed one of my cheeks. He let it mold to the palm of his hand and he continued trailing kisses until he got to the bottom of my stomach and the top of my other hip. I was losing my mind. I slid my hands down and got them underneath his arms and said, “Jace…come here…” I felt him grin against my flesh again. “Not yet, I’m exploring. Just relax while I play, baby.” This was definitely a different Jace. I liked it…no…I loved it. He pushed into the couch on either side of me and pulled himself up over me again. My pussy was soaked and tingling. I wanted him inside of me so badly, but I was trying to be patient. He was straddling me, holding his weight up on his knees as he took my shoulders in his hands and began to massage. It felt so good and his smooth, powerful strokes pulled me forward and worked their way down my back. It was so erotic. When he reached the small of my back, I felt his mouth on the sensitive flesh of my neck. He bit down lightly, and I struggled to breathe. He’s so sexy. He’s killing me. He lifted me suddenly and turned me so I was lying back on the couch. I felt him lay down next to me. I looked at him; the beautiful smile was still on his face. I loved his smile. I could feed off of it. “Are you finished exploring? Can we get down to business

now?” He didn’t answer me with words. Instead, he leaned forward again and possessed my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. Our tongues danced together and I leaned my head back so he could press in deeper. He sucked on my tongue and let his teeth scrape along the side of it. Reaching one hand under my neck, he held me in place while he moved one leg over me and once again loomed over me, pressing against my hot pussy. He flexed those sexy hips into me again and I groaned. I reached up and traced the hard lines of his chest with my fingers and he flexed into me again. This time he wrapped his fingers up in my hair and tugged my head back. Then, he shoved his tongue in deeper while he rocked against me, still wearing his pants. He was making love to my mouth. It was the most incredible, earth-shattering kiss I’d ever had in my life. I think I was already on the brink of my climax and he hadn’t even touched my pussy. When he finally had to come up for air, he kissed down along the side of my neck again to my chest and finally closed his mouth down over one of my breasts. I gasped as he swept his tongue across my engorged nipple. He reached up and took the other one between his thumb and forefinger and began to twist and roll that one while he sucked on the other. “You taste so good,” he said against my aching breast and then proceeded to change sides and begin licking and sucking and tasting the other. “I want to taste more,” he said while I writhed underneath him. I was panting as his fingers made their way between my legs and he touched the spot that was engulfed in flames. He gave it a few light strokes, still teasing, before he pushed himself down on the couch and buried his face between my thighs. My body jerked as I

felt his tongue suddenly shoot out and take one, long, sexy lick. I pushed my hips up into his face and he grabbed them with both hands and held me in place while he probed deeper with his tongue, thrusting it into me as far as it would go and then moving it up to press and lick against my clit. I was out of my mind with pleasure. I wanted to scream. “Jace,” I said breathlessly, “I’m going to come…” He stopped. I pulled open my eyes to see him looking at me, grinning again. “Um…I know we’re both new to this, but I don’t think that was the cue to stop.” He laughed and stood up. Then he leaned over to kiss me. Before his lips met mine, I said, “You’re kind of a tease.” He ran his tongue across the outside of my lips. “I’m done.” “What? You’re done?” He laughed again, and I watched as he pulled his pants and shorts down and stepped out of them. “I’m not teasing anymore,” he said. “I need to be inside of you Daphne, now.” His husky voice was even deeper with lust and my boy shuddered at the sound of it. I reached up for him, and he grabbed my arm by the wrist and put it up over my head. He did the same with the other one and held them there with one of his big hands as he slid into position and entered me. Fireworks exploded, ticker-tape parades happened, rockets discharged…all inside my head. The heat of his cock sliding into me where I was already warm and wet was so intense that I cried out, loudly. I wrapped my legs around his hips and pressed my feet into his back. He wasn’t playing. He slammed into me as deeply as he could, burying himself to the

hilt. When he let go of my wrists, my hands went to his hair and I pulled his mouth down for a hot, wet kiss. The harder we kissed, the faster he moved his hips. He was plunging deeper and faster and hitting my hips harder. The orgasm was building and it threatened to consume me. I called out his name as it boiled to the surface and I exploded. I saw stars as the pleasure coursed through my body. I opened my eyes and shook my head at him. “You’re incredible.” With a grin he said, “Have you had enough?” “No, I want more.” I put my hands on his sexy butt and pushed him into me. “Harder…faster…” He put his lips against mine and said, “You drive me crazy, baby.” I was still writhing underneath him and the feel of his mouth and his words drove me back into frenzy. I began bucking my hips, and our kisses were wet and sloppy. He moved his hips to the side and hit that spot that I’ve heard people talk about. I think I let out a scream right into his mouth as I came again. That orgasm was unexpected, and I even dug my fingernails into his back. He didn’t complain. He sucked my tongue into his mouth and didn’t miss a beat. He kept going, stroking in and out, kissing me, sucking on my lips and tongue, telling me I was beautiful until I suddenly heard him grunt, and then groan and then I felt him tense and just before he released he said, “Daphne!” He fell shaking into me and I held him there. I didn’t want him to move…ever. I didn’t want to breathe. He was my air. He was all that I needed. I knew that with everything in me.

Chapter Forty-Eight Two Years Later Jace “Aw, look, Jace has a little heart-shaped note in his lunch box…isn’t that sweet.” I felt myself blush. Daphne insists on packing my lunch every day, which I love. But I usually check it for the notes before I open it in front of the other guys. I’m not ashamed of her…completely to the contrary. But, working in construction, you have to have a little bit of a hard edge. Pink, heart-shaped sticky notes kind of blow that out of the water. “You’re just jealous, Craig. I’m sorry that nobody loves you enough to send you a heart-shaped note in your lunch.” “I’ll give you one for that ham sandwich,” Mike said to Craig. “It would take a lot more than a sticky note for you to get your hands on my ham.” Mike and I were laughing before Craig realized how that sounded. “Aw, screw you guys!” He turned his back to us and started eating his lunch. Mike looked up at me again and said, “Did you get that raise?” “I got it. It’s my two-year increase. It’ll help a lot with the new house and everything.” Mike nodded. “My raises would help if I could get the wife to stop having kids. That Catholic stuff is okay, but I really wish the Pope would approve birth control. She told me yesterday she’s pregnant again.”

Craig still had his back to us, but I saw his shoulders shake. “What’s up with you?” Mike asked him. “How many is that, nine?” “Shut up,” Mike said. “It’s six.” “And, you haven’t made a boy yet?” “This one’s gonna be a boy, I can feel it.” “That’s what you said about the last two.” Mike shrugged. “Oh well, if this one ain’t, she’ll probably try for 10 more.” “You could stop having sex, you know. That would stop the production of children.” “Fuck that,” Mike said. We laughed. I thought about how different my life was now from two years ago. The only men I had in my life then were my brothers and other priests. I didn’t realize how much fun it was to stand around like this and just talk and laugh like one of the guys. That’s all I am here. Max had got me the job. I used to work construction when I was in high school and he had a client with a construction firm starting a new project in the city. It was perfect for me, and I took it as another sign that I was making the right move. Ryan had only rolled his eyes at me when he heard I’d gone through with leaving the church. I think he was just worried about me, but now, two years later, even he has to admit that I did the right thing. “When are you gonna have some, Jace?” “I think we’re going to wait for a bit. We just got married a month ago, you know.” “Yeah, we were there,” Craig said. “That little wife of yours is…”

“Don’t say it,” I told him with a warning look. “What?” he said, trying to look innocent. “I was just going to say she’s a nice gal.” “Yeah, right.” He laughed his lecherous laugh. I wasn’t really offended. Craig talked about his wife all the time. He was crazy about her. He just liked to give me a hard time. After lunch, we went back to work for another four hours. I was operating the crane today. The building was an old church, and we were refurbishing it. None of the guys here know about my past as a priest, but the first day we were on the job, Craig caught me staring up at the cross at the top of the old brick building. There must have been reverence in my eyes because after that he called me Father Jace. I had to laugh at that. When the day was over, I gathered my things, climbed in my pick-up and went home…to the woman and the life I loved.

Chapter Forty-Nine Daphne “I think I like this one the best,” Carla said, holding up one of my and Jace’s wedding photos. I took it from her hand and looked at it. It was one with her in the background, making a face. I laughed and tossed it back at her. “I’m looking for one to have framed and hung over my new mantle.” “I know, I think that one is perfect,” she said with a wink. “I think we’ll keep looking,” I told her with a smile. I looked around my and Jace’s new house and sighed contentedly. I love him so much. I love our house. I love our life. We got married down at Columbus Park under the lit arbor just as the sun was going down. The photos all have the harbor and the glorious sunset in the background. It’s like the day was designed just for us. I knew that’s an entirely narcissistic view, but on this point, I didn’t care. I was brought back to the present by my oh-so-direct friend. “So, when are you going to start popping out kids?” I laughed. “We’ve only been married for a month. Slow down there, skippy.” “Yeah, but you’ve been doing the nasty for two years. Come on, you’re behind. I’ll be a fabulous auntie.” “I’m sure you will be, as long as you don’t say things like ‘doing the nasty’ in front of

my child.” She was crazy, but I loved her. She went on to say, “Maybe you two aren’t doing it right. Is Jace ramming that hard…” “Carla!” I stopped her there. I love her, but I didn’t want to discuss my husband’s hard anything with her. My face was bright red, I could feel it. She laughed. “You still blush like a school girl every time I mention sex. You need to read some trashy novels, get some ideas. You two are probably still doing it missionary, aren’t you?” With a giggle, I said, “Trust me, we have plenty of our own ideas.” “Oh, really? Tell me more. Have you done it all over the new house yet? Does Jace like doing it doggy style?” “Carla! Stop,” I was laughing. Jace and I had no problems in the bedroom. As a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. Some days we did it like rabbits all over the house and, yes, in different positions. I was still not comfortable talking about it, though, and Carla knew that. She loves to tease me. She likes to call us “The virgin duo.” Little did she know, there was nothing virginal left about either of us. “Here it is,” she said, suddenly. She was holding another photo from the pile of wedding pictures. When she handed it to me, I saw that this time, she wasn’t kidding. Jace and I were facing each other holding hands. The water from the river could be seen in the background and the sun was glinting off of it as it lowered, casting a golden glow around us both. That was beautiful, but even more so was the look in our eyes as we stared at each other. It was going to look perfect above the mantle. “I love it!”

“Yeah, me, too,” she said. It was the first serious thing she’d said in 20 minutes. “You know after you have kids you’ll have to take it down, though, right?” “Why?” “Please, you’ll have so many pictures of the kid, you won’t have room to hang your own. Just think about how gorgeous that kid will be with the two of you as parents.” I smiled and tried to picture our baby. I hoped he looks just like Jace. “Yeah, I bet he will be a looker,” I said. “He?” “I just think since Jace has two brothers, maybe the boy thing runs in his family.” “Maybe, but I’d like to order a niece, too.” Before I could respond to that, I heard Jace come in the front door. He came in and found us still sitting on the couch looking at our wedding pictures. He said hello to Carla and kissed me. He was all dirty from work in his jeans and t-shirt with his big arms showing underneath the short sleeves and his hard chest outlined by the cotton material. I would take him down and eat him up right there if Carla wasn’t here. Even after two years, just looking at him excites me. “What are you ladies doing?” “We’re picking one out for above the mantle. What do you think of this one?” I held up the one Carla picked out and as I looked at it again I realized that part of why it was so beautiful was that it was a day that neither of us thought we’d ever see. You could see the love in our eyes in it. “I love it.” The look in his eyes described the way I felt about it without words. He

leaned over and kissing me again. “Hey, Jace, I was just asking Daphne when the two of you were going to start making babies,” Carla said. He laughed. “Whenever she’s ready. I’m going to leave that up to her.” He wasn’t just saying that. It’s what he’s told me from the beginning. We both want kids, but he said it was important to him that we wait until I feel ready to do it, without being stressed or anxious. It should be a beautiful time in our lives, not a worrisome one. He’s so sweet that he even questioned if I thought we should take some parenting classes, since neither of us had an example to go on. I honestly thought we’ll be okay. I’m definitely not my father and he is the most incredible, generous, big-hearted, nurturing person I’ve ever met. Our baby will be so lucky to have him. “I volunteered to show you guys some new positions, but wifey is getting all embarrassed about it. You wouldn’t mind if I tagged along one of these days and just made sure you two virgins were doing it right, would you?” Carla asked him. “Shh! Carla!” I laughed again. Thank God Jace was used to Carla. He was laughing, too. She has no filters, but she has a good heart and she loves me and Jace knows that. It’s all that matters to him, and I love him that much more for putting up with her. He winked at me and said, “I’ll leave that up to her, too, Carla. Appreciate the offer, though.” I looked at Jace. “I told her we were completely fine in that department.” “She’s is right about that. We may have started out virgins, but I think we’ve got it mastered,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Are you sure? You know you don’t always have to be on top. Sometimes it’s fun and more productive to have her sit right down on your lap and you can kind of like…” She

flexed her hips up and screwed up her face. Jace laughed and shook his head as he went into the kitchen to get a drink. I scolded her again, jokingly. “I want to wait a year or two. I just got this nursing job, and I’d like to work for a while first.” “Yeah,” Carla said, “I guess that way you can build up some leave. Don’t take too long, though. I want a baby to play with.” “Why not have your own?” Jace asked her. She looked at him like he had two heads. “Bite your tongue. I don’t even have a regular man yet. I’m not cut out to be a single mother.” “You take your time, honey,” I told her. “You’re still young and beautiful. Have fun.” “Hey,” Jace said, pretending to be insulted. “Are you saying being married to me isn’t any fun?” I got up and went over to where he was sitting. I sat down on his lap and kissed him. We forgot Carla was there as we kissed passionately. I could feel him growing hard underneath me. Carla cleared her throat and said, “Um… I think I’ll just be going.” We laughed and apologized. “Sorry, we just get carried away,” I told her. She snorted and said, “Newlyweds,” but she was grinning. “I really have to go. See ya, Jace.” “See ya, Carla.” I got up and walked her out. I gave her a hug before she left and promised I’d call to let her know how the new job goes. I’d just finished two years of nursing school and I got a job at the University Hospital. I was really excited about starting.

Jace had been so helpful and supportive while I was in school. I couldn’t wait to start making money and contributing to our lives. He said that part doesn’t matter, and I believe he means it. But it will make me feel better. He works so hard. I want to be an equal partner. After she left, Jace showered while I put away the wedding pictures. We went out to dinner. Now that we’re living in Boston, we eat out once a week on Fridays. The rest of the week, we take turns cooking and on Sundays after church, we have dinner with his brothers. We started going to a new church. It’s still Catholic, but no one there knows our history and it’s more comfortable for us there. We’re both still very devout, practicing Catholics. What has happened in the past is between us and God, but we both still feel strongly that we did the right thing and God is on our side. Tonight, we went to a place near the Harbor called Legal Sea Foods. It’s one of our favorite places to eat when we’re in the mood for shellfish. The manager knows Jace from a job his company did for him last year, so he always starts us out with a huge shrimp cocktail. We sit upstairs when we’re in the mood for quiet elegance, but tonight I wanted the two-pound lobster, so we had to sit downstairs for that. It’s a lot louder downstairs because that’s where the bar is at and a lot of college kids hang out there. While we were eating, Jace looked over at the bar crowd and said, “Do you ever feel like you’re missing out?” Confused, I said, “On what?” “You’re about the same age as those kids at the bar. They’re just having a great time without a care in the world. You just finished school and you have a house and a husband to take care of. Do you ever wish you could go back and do it the way they’re doing it?”

I glanced over at the kids. I thought about high school and even if you factored out my horrible father, you couldn’t pay me to go back. It was fraught with constant anxiety over what to wear and who was talking about who and what boys were going to want if I went out with them. Being a child of sexual abuse could have sent me over to the promiscuous edge, but instead, it sent me in the other direction. I never accepted dates because of my fear that the guy would want sex. I was a senior before I had my first real relationship. He was the one who ran when he tried to get me in bed and I told him about my dad. I looked back at Jace and thought about how when you change one thing in your life, it often alters the course of it, and I said, “No, not even a little bit. Mostly because had I done things differently, I would not have met you. Look at me now!” I giggled. He smiled. “Yeah, look at you now. Happy looks so good on you. It’s hard to imagine the different courses our lives would have taken if we’d never met.” “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “Do you think you would still be a priest if we’d never met?” He nodded and popped a piece of lobster in his mouth. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, after he swallowed. “It wasn’t terrible. I was never really content with it, but until I met you, I really thought it was where I was supposed to be.” “Are you ever sorry you gave it up?” “Not even a little bit,” he said, copying my words with a grin. “I love you, Daphne. I love our life, and I think God and I are okay these days.” “Good. Me, too.”

“You too what?” “I’m good with God.” “What about me?” I knew what he was fishing for, but I liked messing with him sometimes. “You just said you’re good with Him too.” “But what about how you feel about me?” “Oh! I’m good with you, too.” He made a sad face and I smiled. “I love you more than life itself.” He grinned and said, “I knew that, I just wanted to hear it out loud.” ****** When we got home that night, Jace looked at the couch and with a grin he said, “You know something?” “What’s that?” “We made love on my old couch and on your old couch, but we haven’t done it on our new one yet.” I went over and slid my arms around him. He kissed me deeply, and I said, “Do you think we should christen it?” “I absolutely do,” he agreed with a grin. He flexed his hips into me, and I felt him already growing hard. He kissed me again and as he did, he pulled my dress up to around my waist. I broke the kiss and raised my arms so he could finish pulling it off. I walked over to the couch, saying, “Let’s do this.” He laughed. “I think I want you on this side,” he said. He was standing near the back

of it. I raised an eyebrow, but went around next to him. He grabbed my face in his hands and gave me another hard kiss as he released my bra. He flipped me around so I was facing the couch and pulled my panties down. I stepped out of them and felt his hands roam down across my backside, over the curves of my butt and dip between my legs. “Mm, my baby is always so responsive.” I turned back around to face him and we kissed again. God, I love kissing him. I could do it all day. He had other ideas as he growled and buried his face in my breasts. While he was doing that, and doing it very well, I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. I slid my hand down inside and found his now rock hard cock. I gave it a squeeze and felt him shudder into me. “Take them off,” I told him. He reached down and put his fingers against my outer lips again and said, “Mm, so wet baby…” “That’s because you’re so sexy, you make me that way.” He reluctantly let go of my breasts and pulled his hand away from my pussy. I watched as my gorgeous husband stripped off his clothes. I could also just look at him all day. He grinned again and said, “I think I changed my mind. I think I want to sit on the couch, with my beautiful wife in my lap.” “I like that idea,” I told him. He finished getting naked. God, he’s gorgeous, I’m so lucky. He sat down on the couch and I straddled him. We kissed for a long time with his hands rubbing my back and shoulders. I loved it when he touches me like that. I loved everything he does. I reached down and took him back into my hand. I lifted up on my knees and while his hands found my breasts and began to massage and caress them, I lined him up with me and sat down on his cock. God…there is no better feeling in the world than being filled up

with my husband. I started to move up and down. He was still licking and sucking on my nipples, using his teeth to graze them lightly because he knows how much I love that. I arched my back so that I could take his cock even deeper inside of me and I rocked back and forth on his lap. His thighs were hard and tense as he used them to bump my butt up and down as he flexed his hips so that he could thrust up into me. He kept a breast in his mouth while he reached down between us and found my clit. I moaned at his pinch. I leaned back even further to give him better access, and he began to rub it with two fingers while he continued to pound my pussy. Each time he bottomed out inside of me, he would round his hips, grinding up into me hard and deep. I’ve never felt anything like the way this man makes me feel and I’m sure that I never will. The sex is fantastic, all the time, but I believe our emotional connection feeds that and makes it so much better. I rode him hard and fast until I felt his breaths begin to shorten and I knew he was ready to come. I squeezed my pussy muscles, clamping down on him like a vice and that sent him hurtling over the edge. I felt the warm liquid fill me up as he held me down tightly against his lap. He was moaning and making primal sounding grunts as he milked himself into me. When he finished coming, he didn’t stop moving. He’s a generous lover; never stopping until I come. He kept flexing his hips and rubbing my clit with his fingers. He brought the other hand up and pinched and rolled my nipples. I felt the orgasm washing over me and tightened every muscle in my body as I came. Jace kept rubbing lightly until my body stopped shaking and I collapsed into him, breathing heavily. He put his hands on my back then and began to rub my back and run his

hands through my hair. He was kissing the side of my face and telling me he loved me over and over. When I had the strength I pulled my face up and looked at him. “I love you, Jace. I never imagined being happy like this.” He smiled. I still melt when his smile is just for me. “I thank God for you every day, Daphne. I love you more than I can ever put into words and I am so grateful we found each other. I look forward to discovering new things with you every day for the rest of our lives.” I kissed him again and I thought, who would have ever imagined that two abused kids who at more than one point in their lives thought they could never be happy would find each other and change that? I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be and Jace tells me he knows this is where he belongs to. I’m going to hold onto him forever, and I know in my heart that it’s only going to get better and better.

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ADDICTED By Claire Adams

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

Chapter One Nate I rolled the window of my car down, letting some fresh air in. The planes above looked really big taking off and landing. You sort of forgot how freaking huge they were when they were flying above you. My assistant told me that the flight was at eight in the morning. I’d been sitting in my car about ten minutes, watching the sun start to rise over LAX, wishing I’d got a later flight. It was six thirty in the goddamn morning; the only other time I was awake that early was when I’d been up the entire night and hadn’t gotten to sleep yet. What was I even doing here? I could have asked Dad to use his plane. I was Nate Stone; I didn’t have to fly commercial. I shut my eyes and leaned back against the driver’s seat. In ten hours, I wouldn’t have to think about this place for another three months. I’d be in a fucking suite with a hula dancer sucking me off. I’d be eating seafood and drinking rum. I’d be too far away for any

of the assholes in LA to get to me. I watched a plane take off and fly into the distance, until I couldn’t see it anymore. In two hours, that would be me. I just had to last ’til my flight. I’d checked in online already, and I was flying first class. Just two hours, man, I said to myself. This vacation was way overdue. I knew it was over when I tried to write a song the other day and got nothing. Nothing. Not a word. The band didn’t use my songs anymore, but fuck it, I did. The touring, the booze, the girls — it had done something. It had finally caught up with me. Yeah. That was it. Because there wasn’t any fucking dope and booze in Hawai’i. I’d be fine if I just got away from it. I checked the time again. Five minutes had passed. Fuck. Could I fall asleep? Go inside? Eat? Something? Anything other than just sit here and wait? My phone was ringing. Still ringing. I’d ignored a phone call twice already. I didn’t know who the fuck was trying so hard, but I was pretty sure you were meant to stop trying when it was obvious the person you were calling didn’t want to talk to you. Fuck, what if it was important, though? What if it was my manager? Or Dad? The ringing stopped as soon as I reached for the phone to check who I’d been blowing off. I grimaced reading the name. Not my manager Doug. Not my father. Nope. It was Kirsten. I had her name on there as Kiki because that was what I’d called her when we were together, and I’d just never gotten around to changing it to something else. Kirsten Andrews. Sorry, Kirsten Stone: she’d kept my last name. Hmm, I wonder what she wants, I thought cynically. We didn’t have any kids together, so it wasn’t that. Couldn’t have been her settlement because she’d cleaned the fuck up during the divorce. I’d call five million for three years of marriage a pretty good deal. Unless the bitch wanted more, which she was not getting.

I could still hear the wedding bells. Kirsten had filed for divorce, not me. I had told myself back then that it was so many different things. She was just a bitch, she wanted my money all along, and she had met someone else. She was one of those women who used marriage to marry and then divorce even richer people. I couldn’t stand thinking she thought of me as her starter husband. There was the little thing where I was drinking till I blacked out each day, but I had been too drunk to realize that that was it. And by the time I had, and lied to her that I would stop, I had already moved on to something a little stronger. Was there a time I ever loved her? Every time we’d had to go to court, I wasn’t so sure. It had been almost five months now since the split was finalized. There was nothing I still had to say to her. There was nothing she could have said to me that I actually wanted to hear. She’d left me a voice-mail. Delete it, the voice in my head said. Delete it because you’re going to listen to it and regret it immediately. My thumb hovered over the screen as I thought about that. Yeah, Kirsten drove me crazy, and yeah, I was here at the airport because I wanted to get the fuck away from her and everything else, but since I was going anyway, what was the harm in listening to it? I’d listen, get mad, and this time tomorrow, I’d have two naked Hawai’ian girls in my bed, drunk off my ass in the middle of fucking paradise. I’d listen, and when I got to Hawai’i, I’d throw my phone in the ocean. Was it worth it though? What was the worst thing she could say? I played the message. Kirsten’s voice filled the car, like she was in there with me. I frowned, listening; she had the bitch meter turned on high. Her voice got really shrill when she yelled.

“Nathan,” she was saying on the message. She did that when she was mad at me. Talked to me like I was her kid. “Nathan, why aren’t you answering your phone? You bastard, I know you have it on you. You always do.” I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. Bad idea. Should have deleted. “Where are you? You know what? I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anyway. Your manager’s been calling me. He wants to know where you are. You can’t hide, you know that, right? You remember you signed a contract, don’t you?” she was saying. No, I forgot that, Kirsten; thanks so much for reminding me that I owe my next three albums to that bloodsucking label, I thought. “I told him I didn’t know where you were. I can’t believe you’re throwing this all away. How long were you making your music waiting for someone to sign you? “Whatever. The band will do just fine without you. Doug taking a chance on you was obviously a waste of his time. It’s sad, really. Keep hitting that bottle, babe. Go ahead and throw that dream away. What would you be without your rich daddy anyway? Nothing. Maybe Remus can dedicate their next album to you in their Grammy speech-” I cut the message off. There was about half a minute left, but I didn’t have to listen to her anymore. Fuck. I could feel it. It was happening. I shut my eyes and tried to stop it. It felt like hot water bubbling up from my stomach to my chest, till I felt it in my head. It felt like being in a locked room with only one way to get out. She was right. They didn’t need me. They had producers and money from a major label. They could hire anyone to write. They could hire anyone to play and just put their names on it. They could just shit out album after album and watch the money pile up. They could keep going on tour — getting high, drunk, laid. Have a great time.

I wasn’t part of Remus, not anymore. They had our sound perfected; they could swap us all out and replace us the next day, and it wouldn’t make a difference. It was generic. It was stock; it wasn’t real. Obviously, they could make money with or without me. They didn’t need me. Fuck. I couldn’t think. I felt like my skin was trying to crawl off my body. I couldn’t fly like this. Good thing I came prepared. I kept my stuff in the glove compartment. I always had a kit close. My travel kit was small compared to my other one. Just the essentials. Syringe. Belt. Dope — pharma grade, of course; I wasn’t trying to kill myself. Just a little something to take the edge off. It wasn’t a big deal. I quickly looked out the window, rolling my sleeve up. I belted my arm and filled the syringe. I could almost feel it already. The anticipation before the high was almost as good as the main event. I flexed my arm, looking for somewhere to stick it. I watched the needle puncture the skin and shot one hundred percent pure, right in my vein. I took the belt off and leaned back in my seat, sighing. Yeah. That hit the spot. It was like that feeling when you were cold and got in a hot tub. Just like a liquid orgasm spreading all over your whole body. Right then, I forgot everything. I wasn’t at the airport. I wasn’t in my car. I was in heaven. I opened my eyes, watching another plane go by. It looked so happy. Maybe if I’d gotten Kirsten on heroin, she wouldn’t be such a bitch. Time must have passed; it felt like hours, but it must have been half an hour or something. Everything moved slower when I was high. Everything was better. I had to leave, though. I had a flight to catch.

I rolled my sleeve down. I could hide being high, but the track scars were a dead giveaway. I pulled my hood up because I’d forgotten my baseball cap. Another reason why I should have fucking flown private. That way, nobody would recognize me. I got out of my car and went to the trunk to pull my suitcase out. I left my kit in the car because I had another packed. I’d check this bag so security wouldn’t get to it. I didn’t carry lighters or spoons and shit, obvious junkie paraphernalia. If they saw it, they’d see vials of clear liquid. When they read it, it would say it was insulin. Hidden in plain sight. Who wasn’t going to let a diabetic have his insulin? I’d done this so many times before. The trick was to act natural. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re doing something wrong. For all they knew, you were just another miserable traveler who had to make the drive to LAX that day. TSA didn’t even look for drugs like that. I’d be fine. The high definitely helped. I got through security no problem. I took my time with it since I still had a lot of time left before the flight. Once I was at my gate, I considered my options. I had music in my carry-on backpack. I could put my headphones on and zone out till it was time to leave. I even had a book, but it was sort of hard to read while I was high. There was a bar, though, and getting a jump on that rum didn’t sound like a terrible idea. Was it too early for a drink? I checked the time. Twenty minutes past seven. Yeah. It was too early. I’d just shot up; I’d probably last the flight. I sat down at the bar anyway, thinking I’d just do it. If they didn’t want anyone to drink, why’d they have it open at seven in the morning, anyway? I kept my head down, even though it was basically just me. Not a lot of people on my flight probably. Not a lot of people trying to get drunk at seven in the morning. The bartender walked up to me. It was a dude. Young guy. I nodded slightly. He smiled, telling me good morning.

“Hey,” I said tightly. “Can I have a…Coke? Just a Coke. With ice,” I said. The guy smiled and went to get me my drink. I rolled my eyes. Fucking Coke. Could he top that off with some Captain Morgan? That sounded more like it. It was seven in the morning, I couldn’t do that. Even I had limits…sort of. I’d drink my Coke, get on the plane, and ask for Patron. The guy came back with an icy glass full of Coke. I said thanks and paid him. “Hey, man, you must get this all the time,” he said. Oh shit. “But has anyone ever told you you’re a dead ringer for Nate Stone.” “Who?” I asked, sipping my drink. “Nate Stone. That guy from Remus. Well, he used to be part of Remus. He left them recently. Pretty talented guy.” I shrugged. “Can’t be that good if they kicked him out.” “They didn’t kick him out. It was creative differences or something like that,” he said. I smiled to myself. Creative differences. Thank God for good PR. “Creative differences? Who was he? Like, their John Lennon?” “He didn’t like the direction the major label was taking band’s music. Ever heard their stuff?” “Nope. That Nate guy sounds like a loser,” I said. The bartender kept looking at me. Telling him to fuck off would be the worst thing to throw him off my scent. You didn’t want fans saying they met you, and you were a douche. I kept my head down, drinking my Coke. “You know. You sort of sound like him, too,” the guy said. I swore quietly. He knew. I looked at him. “Did you like the label or independent stuff better?” I asked. The guy laughed. I

hoped he’d say independent. “I knew it was you. Where are you heading?” “Hawai’i.” “Vacation?” “Yep.” “Alone?” he asked. Too many questions. I was just about to answer him when I heard my boarding call. Saved by the bell. “Yeah. Alone. In fact, I think I need to go get on that plane,” I said, trying to discourage him. “Before you go, could you sign this for me?” he asked, sliding a notebook over. I scribbled my autograph down and gave his notepad back. I finished the soda and got up, leaving to finally get on the plane. Maybe it was a good thing I’d gotten a Coke. If I’d been on anything stronger, I would have told him anything. Everything he asked. Why I was going to Hawai’i, why we had actually split, the name of the upcoming album where I had had no creative input. I needed to get out of there. Ten minutes later, I was on the plane. I’d gotten a first class ticket, but as soon as I was in my seat, I wished I’d bought the entire first class cabin out. I was coming down. I was about to be in this flying tin can for like eight hours. Fuck. Next time, I was flying private — no fucking excuses. Nobody would ask me shit if I got my kit out and shot up at ten thousand feet if I was flying private. My kit was in my checked bag. I was taking this flight sober, unless I could drink. What the fuck, Nate, I thought. What kind of loser can’t stay clean for ten hours? I was already thinking about when I could get high again, and we hadn’t even left the

ground. I’d gotten high just two hours ago in the parking lot. It was the perfect opportunity to just stop and be normal for one day, and I hadn’t been able to do it. How much longer? How much fucking longer? What would it take? Did I have to die before I stopped doing this shit? I sighed. At least then I wouldn’t have the choice to shoot up again. This was about to be a long-ass flight. I zoned out as the pilot and cabin crew made their announcements. Emergency exits are here, here, and here. Destination is Lanai Airport. Blah, blah, blah. I put my headphones on and turned on some music. I felt the plane start to move. Eight hours, and I’d be in paradise. Hula dancers sucking my dick. Palm trees and sunshine. In eight hours, I could forget everything that had happened today.

Chapter Two Abby There weren’t a lot of things I could complain about living in Lanai. Because of working at the Four Seasons, I lived near the hotel on the southern part of the island. Yeah, my backyard was the beach, but I sort of wished I lived somewhere I could watch the sun come up over the ocean. I could never really stay asleep once dawn started to break, even before I moved to Lanai. That meant the day had begun, and I never wanted to miss seeing it start. Every minute you were asleep meant you were missing something. How could you live life to the fullest laying on your back? I got out of bed, throwing my light blanket off. Soon, the nights would get too hot to sleep under it. I pushed my windows open to let the earliest rays of sunshine inside. I loved summer. It was Hawai’i, so summer was basically the only season we had, but when it was summer, the sun was in the sky before six in the morning. I was up early every day, but summer was also the five months out of the year that I worked at the hotel, so being a morning person actually came in handy. It was still early summer, but the hotel was completely booked up through the peak season already. I relished the quieter days we had at work before it flooded with tourists, but meeting new, interesting people every day was probably the best part of the job. The hotel had already started filling up. I had quite a bit of time before I had to be at work, as usual. I washed the dishes I had forgotten to do the night before in my small kitchen before wondering what I was going to

have for breakfast. When I was working, I got food at the hotel during my shift. My fridge was miserably bare. There was some fruit in there and some milk I was pretty sure I was about to run out of. I lived alone; it wasn’t like I was putting a family meal together every night. That watermelon looked good, though. I shut the door, deciding to eat after I’d pulled the place together a little. It was a small cabin with the rear porch facing Hulopoe Beach. It was technically on land owned by the hotel, but rent was manageable since I worked there. It was convenient because work was only a fifteen minute walk away. It was perfect. There were no walls separating the kitchen, living area, and bedroom. I’d gotten a little crafty and put up these translucent white curtains that I could close to separate the living and sleeping areas, but they were mostly just decorative. There was no television, and I had one couch and an armchair. I had found the furniture there, left behind by whoever had lived in the house before me, and hadn’t wanted to replace it. It was made of this light wood that looked like driftwood picked up off the beach. Against the wall, I had a desk where my laptop was. I attended college classes online when I wasn’t working. There was no air-conditioning, but a few fans did the trick when the air got too heavy. I had lived in Texas before coming here, so a little heat didn’t bother me. I loved my place; it was everything I needed. It was minimal, and it wasn’t an ultramodern condo, but it was comfortable, and I literally only had to take two steps out the back door to be on the beach. I was thinking about taking a dip in the ocean when I heard a knock at the door. I pulled it open excitedly, already knowing who it was. There was only one person who it could have been at my house that early. Makani, my best friend, was standing there in a

tank top and shorts, a brown paper bag and two coffees in her hands. “Oh my God, really?” she said, looking me up and down. She looked at me with a mock-shocked face. “What if I was some weird guy? What if I was the police? You’d still come to the door in your panties?” I smiled and pulled her inside. “Jesus Christ, Abby. I know we’re close, but I think I’m starting to see too much of you.” I laughed, closing the door behind her. It was okay. She’d seen me in a lot less. “What are you talking about? This is just for you,” I teased. She pulled a face that made me laugh. I’d lucked out in finding Makani. I couldn’t complain about living here on my own, independent and supporting myself, but Makani? She was my sister. Nobody would ever think we came from the same two parents looking at us, but she was at the top of the list of people I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. “Maybe when I’m forty and nobody else has tried to marry me yet,” she said. “Actually, I might do you a favor and lock it down now. How many of the guys you’ve dated have ever brought you breakfast in bed?” she asked, holding up the brown paper bag that smelled like it had something delicious in it. There was a perfect half watermelon in my refrigerator, but I was certain what she’d brought was full of butter and sugar, and honestly, which would you pick? “I don’t know what’s taking you this long to finally ask me,” I said, taking the bag from her and peering inside. The smell made my stomach growl: ham and cheese croissants. She popped our coffees out of the carrying tray. “Too young and hot to get tied down,” she joked. “You’re terribly high maintenance; you’d drive me crazy,” she said fondly. I smiled. If our personalities were things on the island, I’d be the sun, and she’d be the

mountains. She acted like she was so long suffering and weary of me, but she was probably the only person in my life who didn’t have to be around me if she didn’t want to be but still was. We’d become friends the first summer that I had worked at the Four Seasons. She was only a year older than I was, but I just remember being so impressed by how mature and grounded she seemed. She was smart, she was beautiful, and she didn’t mind letting me — new and scared — shadow her at work. You could say our summer romance had blossomed into a beautiful friendship, but it was more than that. I had never had any siblings, but I didn’t even feel bad about it because she was my family. I laughed my hardest when I was with her. “What would you do without me?” I challenged. “Get a lot more sleep?” Makani smirked. I knew it took her at least three alarms to get up in the morning. When we weren’t working, she would be in bed most of the morning if I didn’t get her up. “What were you doing last night?” she asked, walking into the kitchen to grab a couple plates. The house was so small, it didn’t have a proper dining room. What it did have was a table and two patio chairs out on the porch where I tended to eat when I was home. “Nothing, just stayed in,” I said, walking to the door. There was always a nice wind coming off the ocean, so it was never too stuffy in the house. Makani followed me out, putting the plates on the table and taking the bag from me to slide the warm croissants out. “Are you going to be taking classes this summer?” she asked, sitting in one of the chairs and curling her long legs underneath her. If she ever got tired of the hospitality business, a good next career for her would be

pageant queen or model of any type. She was beautiful. HR had probably given her a job at the front desk because she looked like Miss Hawai’i. Her hair was naturally wavy and dark brown, the same color of strong coffee. She had light brown almond-shaped eyes and flawless, rich, coppery skin. She was the sort of exotic Hawai’ian beauty the tourism board used in ads to sell the islands to visitors. She took a sip from her coffee cup, grimaced, and held it out to me. She’d gotten mine by accident. She drank her coffee black, no sugar or cream. I didn’t know how she did it; I thought it tasted like engine oil. I liked my coffee sweeter than was reasonable, with plenty of cream. “No, I’ll start in the fall. I can’t study through the peak season.” “Don’t remind me. The bookings are crazy.” “Aren’t you excited?” I asked her. “There’s so many parties and luaus.” She looked at me, furrowing her brow. “It’s also when we have Joseph breathing down our necks. Crazy guests asking for room service. Ugh, and the weddings,” she said dramatically. I giggled, biting into my croissant. The filling was warm, and the pastry was flaky; little crumbs showered over my thighs. Joseph was our manager. He was a little frantic, but nice if you stayed on his good side. “Everything blows up when the tourists come. The island’s fast asleep whenever it isn’t peak season. Think about it, Makani; the people who come here are relying on us to make their trip unforgettable. People don’t forget things like that. You don’t forget experiences. That young couple from Arkansas, here for their island wedding. They’ll remember you organized their first horseback ride as a married couple on the beach.” “Uh-huh. They’ll also remember their awesome island wedding when they’re getting

a divorce five years down the line because the guy hasn’t been able to forget the pretty blonde who lei-ed him,” she joked. I narrowed my eyes as she laughed. “You’re too young to be this jaded,” I said shaking my head. “I’m just being realistic. They’re here on vacation. It isn’t real life for them. Once they leave, they leave all this behind. They take their memories, but memories fade.” “You don’t want to be responsible for making one person’s day better? Be the one behind that one memory that makes them smile when they’re feeling down?” I urged. “I just want to make it through another season in one piece.” “I can’t wait,” I said smiling, having a sip of my coffee. “I want whatever you’re smoking,” she said, shaking her head. She was like a forty-year-old woman in the body of a hot twenty-two-year-old. She had been born in Lanai and had lived on the islands all her life. She had started working right after high school and been supporting herself just as long. She could be a little serious, but was a great time when she let her hair down. We watched the tourists on the beach silently for a little while. Usually, the only people on the beach this early were people who wanted early morning runs or swims, or elderly couples who wanted to walk the beaches while they were still quiet and fairly empty. It was nice. The wind blowing over the ocean towards us was fresh and salty. I knew the perfect song for this moment. “Mind if I play something?” I asked Makani. She said she didn’t. I stole back into the house and came back out with my phone looking for the song. Remus had a song for every occasion. The sound came through the speaker. An acoustic demo — just clean vocals, piano, and percussion. I had chosen my favorite song from them. It was a slightly slower song,

“Nikki Out of Sight,” which they had released before they were signed. One of the members, the pianist, Nate, had written it about his mother who had died when he was a kid. Not a lot of their newer fans seemed to like the song very much since they had done it in their older style. I liked the way they played now, but there was definitely a difference between their earlier and newer stuff. “This that band you like?” Makani asked. “There you go, I didn’t even have to tell you who it was this time,” I said smiling. I played Remus’s music often when we were together. Makani was steadfastly lukewarm about them, not from a lack of effort on my part. She didn’t know any of the band members and didn’t listen unless we were together and I put it on, but she could probably name, like, one album title if she tried. “I don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Nate, one of the members, wrote the song for his mom.” “Nikki is his mother?” she asked, pulling a face. “She died when he was young. The song’s about how hard he would try not to forget her because the older he got, the longer she’d been gone.” Makani nodded. “Is that why you like it? Because it’s miserable?” she asked. “It’s not miserable. It’s cathartic,” I insisted. She humored me by agreeing. She was one of the few people I’d met who didn’t love the band. I’d been listening to them since they had released their independent LP. They never had any Hawai’ian tour dates, so I’d never seen them live, but I imagined I’d probably combust if I was in the same room as they played their stuff. There was something really raw about their lyrics that I felt I could relate to. It was beautiful music, but their themes sometimes skewed a little dark. Loss, death, things that

were scary to think about, but made me feel better about where I’d come from. I related, to this song at least, because my mother was dead, too. She hadn’t been gone long enough for me to start forgetting her, but I had been fifteen when it had happened. That wasn’t better or worse than losing her at an older or younger age; it always sucked to lose a parent. The song ended, and we quickly finished our breakfast. Makani waited as I got ready, and we left for work together, taking the short walk. The trail brought us up to the main building between the pool and the golf course. The resort was gorgeous. I had so much respect for the staff who cleaned and decorated, making sure it always looked amazing. There were fresh flowers at our front desk every day. That was where we worked most of the time, checking people in and out and taking inquiries, but sometimes we’d coordinate luaus, events, parties, wedding receptions, and other things like that. Work was fun. It didn’t really feel like working, not to me anyway. I liked talking to people. Makani was professional and warm with all the information, and I liked to engage guests, ask them where they were from and whether they’d been to Lanai before, just make them feel comfortable. All I wanted was a smile back when I gave one. A few hours in, the phone rang. I picked it up, giving my usual introduction and greeting. “Abby?” Joseph barked. I jumped. I had never been in trouble at work before, but he always talked to us like we were. He was Samoan. Big and tall, and the sort of guy you didn’t really want to know how mean and scary he could be, so you were always on your best behavior around him. “Yes, sir?” I squeaked, clearing my throat.

“My office,” he said shortly and hung up. I looked at the phone briefly before putting it down. Why did he want to see me? I knew I wasn’t in trouble, but he tended to spend a lot of his time outside his office, chatting with guests and overseeing the staff. “What’s up?” Makani asked. “Joseph wants to see me,” I said. “Right now? Why?” I shrugged. I told her I’d be right back before leaving to go to his office. It was behind the reception area, through a door that was for staff only. I knocked before I went in. He was sitting at his desk. I smiled at him coming in. I saw his stone face mask drop for just a second, about to smile back before he stopped himself. “Abby, I need you to check the presidential suite,” he said, getting straight to the point. “Which one?” “The Hulopoe suite; he wants the ocean views.” “I’ll get right on it,” I said. I didn’t want to ask why, but I was curious. He had said “he” wanted ocean views. Who was he talking about? I thought up a way to make the question less obvious. “Uh, any special instructions for housekeeping?” I asked. “If anything’s wrong, have them fix it. We have a guest who wants the suite for the entire season. It needs to be perfect. Oh, and he requested a piano in his room and these drinks in his refreshment center,” he said, handing me a list. I raised my eyebrows. The Four Seasons was already a swanky place, but if someone was taking a Presidential Suite for the whole summer, they had to be some sort of celebrity or billionaire — especially if he’d sent a wish list ahead of him. I bit my lip wondering who it was. “Can I ask who it is?” I asked carefully.

“He’s a musician. Nick Stone,” he said. “Nate?” I asked quickly, correcting him. I cleared my throat and reeled it in. “Nate Stone?” I asked again, hoping he wasn’t onto me. “Yeah, that must be him. Plays in a band. Rich father. He wants the suite for three months. He is an extremely important guest, checks in today. I know I can trust you to make his stay unforgettable,” he said, giving me one of his rare smiles. He had them all the time for the guests, but not for us. I think he did it to scare us — keep us in line. I nodded because if I opened my mouth, I’d probably scream. Nate Stone. Nate Stone was coming here. I was about to meet Nate Stone. I would be able to see Nate Stone every day for the next three months. Joseph dismissed me, and I left the room, feeling like my skin was on fire. Ohmygod, Nate Stone. I wanted to scream. I had just been talking about him with Makani that morning. Whew. Down girl. I had to get a grip. I had work to do. I hurried back to the desk. In a few hours, I’d be meeting Nate Stone. I couldn’t wait.

Chapter Three Nate The first time I’d been to Hawai’i was over a decade ago. My mother had lived there for years before she moved to San Francisco and met my dad. Whenever we went on vacation, we’d come to Hawai’i. We would stay at this private villa on the beach on the Big Island. The staff who worked at the house had kids my age who I’d play with, and we’d always stay there for weeks at a time before going back home. Every night, my parents and I would take a walk together on the private beach. I remember I’d always be up first because I liked watching the fishing boats on the water when the sun was coming up. After she died, we never went back to the house again. We’d stay at hotels. Five-star places that had been nice, but they’d never really felt like home, and since she was gone anyway, it was never really the same. I just remembered a lot of babysitters since Dad would always take his work with him, something he had never done on vacation with Mom. I eventually figured out what happened to that house we used to stay in; it had been demolished and a golf resort had gone up instead. Guess the Four Seasons was a good enough second pick. I don’t know what I would have done in the old house if it had still been standing. It had been a long time, like twenty years, so there was no way it would have still looked the same, anyway. Even if I had been able to stay there, maybe the isolation wouldn’t have been the best thing for me at a time like this. It sort of sounded like the kind of place where I’d slowly

lose my mind. Somewhere it would take a hell of a long time for anyone to find me if I fucked up and overdosed or something. Yeah. The Four Seasons it was. At least if I OD’d there, I’d be found the next morning by housekeeping. I’d never been to their hotel on Lanai, but I’d stayed at their Vegas location, and it would just be like that but with palm trees, right? All I wanted was three months where I didn’t have to be Nate Stone. Remus, and my label, and Kirsten could all go to hell. I just wanted to relax. Was that too much to ask? My life was a fucking garbage fire. Maybe it would still be a mess when I got back, but there was a chance I’d get my head out of my ass long enough while I was on the island to actually sort it out. If nothing else, I could just pretend that everything wasn’t completely horrible. I could get massages and be a tourist for a while. And when I went back, I’d just cut everyone off and become a hermit. Or maybe I’d spend so much time in Hawai’i I wouldn’t want to go back at all. There was an idea, I thought. Isn’t that what people did? Sort of like moving off the grid, but not really because Hawai’i was not the middle of nowhere. I’d change my name, get a boring job like selling cars, get really fat, and be happy. Anything was better than my life now. It literally could only go up from here. This was the fucking bottom. I managed to sit through the entire flight without killing myself. It was an early morning flight, but they were serving booze, thank God, so it could have been worse. They only had wine, which I didn’t usually drink, but after like three glasses, eight hours really flies by. I was feeling okay by the time we landed. No shaking. No sweating. Nobody on the plane asking me for autographs or taking my picture, either. Honestly, one of the better flights I’d taken commercially — but I made a mental note to just spare myself the bullshit

the next time I wanted to go somewhere. As I got off the plane, I immediately regretted wearing my hoodie. It was hot, but there was a nice breeze, so it wasn’t too humid. I’d take the hoodie off, but I wasn’t in the clear yet. It was better safe than sorry. I wasn’t on the Big Island, but all it took was one person recognizing you. If word got out that I was here, then I could kiss my vacation goodbye. Had my assistant said anything to the hotel about privacy? I hoped so. Why hadn’t I done all this shit myself? I knew what the actual answer to that question was, but I decided I hadn’t because it was Casey’s job to do things like that for me and that was what I paid her for. Yeah. That reason was better than me just being too strung out to do it myself. The point wasn’t to be truthful — it was to make myself feel better about being a junkie. I went through arrivals, grabbing my luggage off the carousel, and exiting the building to the parking bay where drivers were waiting to pick up passengers and hotel shuttles were filling up to take people where they needed to go. Casey had told me that the Four Seasons had sent me a car so I didn’t have to worry about getting one myself. Good, I thought. The more things they could do without me having to ask them, the better. I was on vacation. I was officially tapped out. Whatever was happening in LA, with the band, with Kirsten, I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t give a fuck. I was officially too far away for it to touch me. Three months of sand, sun, and hot Hawai’ian girls. I walked up to the car. The driver was this older Hawai’ian guy, about my dad’s age. He was wearing a uniform with the Four Seasons logo and holding a card with my name on it. He smiled, seeing me walking over to him. “Mr. Stone?” he asked. “Call me Nate. The hotel sent you?” I asked. He said they had as he reached for my

suitcase. I stopped him because I could do it myself. I was also a little shifty about people handling my bag when I knew what I had in there. “Is this your first time on Lanai island?” he asked. I heaved my suitcase up into the trunk. “Yep. First time.” He said something else, but I didn’t hear him from where I was at the back of the car. I felt a drop in my stomach, and my palms started sweating. Oh no. It was happening. It had been ten hours since my last dose, and I was feeling it. I shut my eyes and tried to stop it. I had been mostly fine the entire way here on the plane. Even if I had wanted to, there would have been no way that I could have shot up in the middle of a full first-class cabin. I wasn’t on the plane anymore, though. My kit was right in my suitcase. My suitcase was right in front of me. Don’t do it, Nate. Come on. You just got here. You left all that shit behind. I was here. I wasn’t stressed anymore. No. It had nothing to do with stress — I was just a junkie. “Hey, could you wait a second for me? I just gotta go take a leak,” I said quickly to my driver. He said I could take as long as I needed. I only needed a second. Just something so I didn’t get dope sick. I quickly got my kit out of my suitcase, sliding it under my hoodie. I went back into the airport building to find a restroom, locking myself into a stall. My heart was pounding in my head. I got my kit out, unzipping it quickly. I tore the wrapper off the syringe and nearly dropped the vial of heroin trying to fill it. I held it between my teeth, belting my arm, and quickly sinking the needle into my skin. Not enough to take me out. Just enough so I didn’t start withdrawing. It was dangerous quitting cold turkey, anyway. Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, you fucking piece of shit, I thought.

I took the belt off my arm, letting my head fall back against the door of the bathroom stall. At least I wasn’t homeless, robbing a 7-11 for money to buy dirty stuff on the street. At least I didn’t have hepatitis from sharing needles. As far as heroin addicts went, I could have been a lot worse. I was still using, but at least I wanted to quit. That had to count for something. I wasn’t doped to my eye sockets, just passed out all day. I hadn’t lost my house or alienated myself from all the people who loved me. Okay, maybe I had done that second one. I felt myself coming up. As much as I wanted to quit, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t fucking love that high. It was like looking at everything underwater. Like it wasn’t so sharp or hard anymore. Soft focus. I could quit later. It wasn’t a big deal. The road to recovery was a long one. Baby steps, that was what mattered the most, right? I only used enough to keep me from getting sick anyway, not even really to numb out. You really had to master ninja-level denial when you were a drug user. I could make excuses all day long, but the hard truth was I hated it. I hated that I had to use that shit. I hated that my body literally became sick when I hadn’t injected poison into it. I hated that it controlled me. I hid my kit under my hoodie, coming out of the stall. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I walked back outside, heading for the car. I realized I must have looked suspicious and dropped the hood. The crowd of people still waiting for rides was a lot smaller. If someone was going to recognize me now, it didn’t matter because I was leaving anyway. My kit from the outside just looked like a smaller, black instrument case. I just stuffed it into my backpack and got into the backseat of the car.

“Are you all right?” the driver asked. He was looking back at me sort of concerned. I tried to smile at him. “Yeah, I’m great. Let’s just go.” He started the car. “Did you have a good flight?” he asked. Wonderful, I had gotten Chatty Cathy as my cabbie. The dope had taken the edge off, though, and I was finally here. It was beautiful outside. The sun was shining. The air smelled clean, and it was quiet. He was just doing his job. I didn’t need to be an asshole to this guy. “It was great. Long, though.” “Where did you fly in from?” “Los Angeles.” “Vacation?” “Yeah, I just needed a little break.” “You came to the right place. Tell me, do you golf?” he asked. “No, I don’t,” I said, wondering what he would say to that. “It’ll help you relax. The Four Seasons has one of the best courses on the island.” “You think I need help relaxing?” I asked, amused. I knew something that was really relaxing. I shot heroin; that was the most relaxing habit there was. “You must if you need a vacation,” he said. I smiled, looking out the window. He was all right. Making conversation with the people in the back of his car was probably what got him through this job. I couldn’t relate. I’d had my eye on a music career since I was a teenager. I had never really done anything else. I wondered what it was like driving a cab for a living. Probably not great, but if I had to do it, I’d probably choose doing it here rather than in LA.

“Yeah, I just needed to get away. I haven’t been here in years. I forgot how beautiful it is.” “Lanai is the only island that’s still wild,” he said matter-of-factly. “Miles and miles totally untouched. The hikes are amazing,” he raved. “You’ll love it.” I smiled. I already sort of did. “You here alone?” he asked. “Yeah. Just me.” “Your family isn’t joining you? Your wife? Girlfriend?” “No. I’m not seeing anybody,” I said, answering a question I usually hated. I’d usually be suspicious if anyone else asked. Back in LA, when people asked that question, they already had an answer; they just wanted you to say something so they could pretend they cited you as a source in the fake article they would write later. I was sure that this guy had no idea who I was and was really just trying to make me feel welcome on the island. He was genuinely curious. “You’re lucky. The most beautiful women in the world come from Hawai’i,” he said, looking at me through the rearview mirror. I smirked. Oh, yeah. I knew that. He didn’t have to tell me twice. If everything went according to plan, I’d be getting close to more than a few women while I was here. He kept going like that, making casual conversation. I didn’t discourage him because the more he talked, the less I could think about the heroin literally inches away from me in my backpack. I learned that he worked as a driver during the peak tourism season and was a salesman the rest of the year. He had three kids, two whom had moved to Oahu. His wife ran cultural programs for tourists. He had been right about a lot of the island not being built up. It looked wild, like

people had forgotten about it. He said it had mostly been plantations, and when some of them closed, they were abandoned, so the wild vegetation reclaimed the land. He offered to drive through the city in case I wanted to buy anything before we went to the hotel, but I told him not to bother. We finally got to the resort. The island was small, only like 150 miles or something, but I was running on fumes. I needed to get inside. I climbed out of the car, thanking the driver for the trip and tipping him because why not. A couple of porters tried to get my bags, but I told them I could do it myself. I walked into the lobby. It was nice. Flowers and shit everywhere. Looked really clean. Nothing like the Vegas Four Seasons, but still nice. I could see two girls at the front desk. Pretty young, surprisingly. One was Hawai’ian, the other was a blonde. The Hawai’ian one was smoking hot; she looked like a model. She was sitting, though, so I couldn’t get a good look at her body. The blonde was standing up. She smiled at me as I came towards the desk. Straight white teeth and pink lips I didn’t think were that way because of makeup. She was tanned — of course she was, she lived here — and her eyes were blue. Not like the ocean, lighter. Her hair was tied up in a bun. Her face was nice, cute button-nose and high cheekbones. Getting closer, I noticed light freckles across her nose. She was pretty. She was something else, too. I could see it. After a while, you can spot the look people get when they know it’s you and don’t want to say anything. They get this smile that they can’t wipe off their face. The girls giggled. They looked at you like they knew your secret. She was a fan. Shit, I thought I’d be able to fly under the radar for once. I had wanted this place instead of Honolulu for this exact reason. She hadn’t said anything yet, though, and so far, she seemed to be the only person who knew. All right. This wasn’t the end of the world. She was working, so maybe she’d

be professional and keep her mouth shut. If she asked about the band, though, I was drowning myself in the ocean. “Aloha,” she said, that smile not dropping for a second. “Welcome to Lanai Four Seasons.” “Hey, uh, thanks,” I said. Wow, looked like someone loved their job. The other woman got up and greeted me the same way; she was also smiling and nice, but it was like a regular sort of nice that they probably taught you at hospitality school. Polite, but sort of detached. “Is this your first time in Hawai’i?” she asked me. I read her name tag. Makani. “No. I’ve been here a few times,” I said. “First time on Lanai?” “Yeah, I usually stay on the Big Island.” “First of many, we hope,” she said. I looked in her face searching for any sign she knew who I was. Nothing. I relaxed. This really had been the right place to come. Apparently, Remus didn’t get radio play on this island. “Yeah. Let’s hope so.” I handed her my credit card and identification so she could check me in. “You’re booked into the Presidential Suite,” she said. I watched, suddenly nervous when I saw her give the blonde my stuff. Oh shit. If she hadn’t recognized me already, she sure as shit knew who I was now. She was looking right at my goddamn ID. She clicked at her computer. “Our manager, Mr. Kalo, informed us of your special requests,” the blonde said without looking up. “Your suite has been stocked with everything you asked for.” I checked her name tag. Abby.

“That’s great. Thanks,” I said, noticing she didn’t say anything else. Huh. Maybe she didn’t know who I was. Maybe I was giving myself too much credit. “If you’re ready, sir, Abby will take you up to your suite,” Makani said, giving me back my stuff. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” I said. Abby came around the desk and asked me to follow her. She told me one of the porters could get my bag, but I felt better handling my own heroin. The suite was on the second floor, so we took the elevator up. She walked slightly ahead of me, and I checked her out while I was back there, not gonna lie. Her uniform wasn’t really flattering, but she looked like she had a rocking little body under there if you got her in something more revealing. “If you’re hungry after your trip, there are seven restaurants and bars for you to choose from, open ’til ten o’clock. The bars remain open ’til eleven pm. The option of inroom dining is available, as well, if you’d prefer,” she said. “You must have had a long flight.” “It was okay,” I said absently. “The spa is open between eight am and eight pm. You can book appointments yourself or you can phone the concierge to do it for you, if you need to unwind after your journey,” she suggested. I grunted in response. It was nice of her to say, but I wasn’t interested in getting a massage. “It might be what you need before your day tomorrow.” “My day tomorrow?” I asked. “There are so many things to do; you aren’t spending three months in your suite, are you? It’s a nice suite, but look where we are,” she said. I smirked a little. She sounded more excited about my vacation than I even was. This must have been fun for her. This job. Gotta respect someone who was doing something

they loved and was doing it well. “Guess I can’t spend all my time inside if I came all the way here, can I?” “Of course not,” she said, looking back to smile at me. She started rattling off a list of things I could do at the Four Seasons Lanai. Golf, snorkeling, and hiking. Horseback riding, nature tours, water sports. Things I didn’t particularly care for, but the way she said them made me think they were worth checking out. We quickly got to the room. She slid the card into the slot and opened the room. I followed her inside. I had known it was going to be a nice place, but I hadn’t booked the room myself. Casey had, and I’d never bothered to look at any pictures online. I got the Presidential Suite at every hotel I stayed at, but this was basically an apartment. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Stone. You have the best room in the house,” she said walking in ahead of me. “There is just one bed, but you can request for another. You have two full bathrooms, a private terrace, and prime oceanfront views of the Marine Sanctuary and Hulopoe Beach. In-room dining is twenty-four hours, and housekeeping comes by twice daily.” I followed her, taking it in. The living area looked like it was big enough for a family to use. There was a dining table, couches, and a television. A piano was against one wall close to the entrance. It opened up to the terrace, which overlooked the beach. “So what do you think?” she asked. “It’s nice,” I said appreciatively. “It is, but hopefully you won’t be spending too much time up here. The beach is accessible all day. You have full, free access to the tennis courts and fitness center, and the island adventure center is open between seven and six, where we can arrange day long excursions to different parts of the island.” I nodded, listening to her. I hadn’t really come

here to have an island adventure, but I liked her enthusiasm. She made me almost want to sign up for something. “Thank you. This is great. I appreciate it.” “If you need anything, I’m downstairs all day, every day. If I’m not at the desk, just ask the person you find there for Abby,” she said. I said I would and watched her leave, leaving my key card on a table by the door. I looked around the suite: my home for the next three months. I rolled my suitcase into the bedroom. It was decorated the same way the living space was, with a massive television on the wall and a pair of sliding glass doors that opened out to the terrace. I took my hoodie off and lay down, face up on the bed. Comfy. I could get used to this place. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and realized I hadn’t taken it off of airplane mode. You didn’t really have to do that when you were flying, but I liked to since it was a good excuse to ignore people who were trying to reach you. The minute I was plugged back in, I saw the missed calls and text messages from Kirsten. Why was she so damn persistent? I knew better than to read them this time and deleted them all. What was the fucking point, though? Where the hell did I have to go to get away from it all? What if it didn’t even matter? I’d always have that bitch breathing down my neck. I’d leave Hawai’i and everything back in LA would just be worse. She’d sue me for more money. The label wouldn’t let me out of my contract. Everyone in the band would start hating each other. What if I couldn’t fix it? I sat up. I was too anxious to stay in one place. I needed to do something. I needed something to calm me down. I looked out at the beach. Now seemed like a good time for a drink.

Chapter Four Abby Our shifts wrapped up at around seven thirty at night. Since it was still early in the season, the day hadn’t been that stressful. I never really left work feeling drained or like I just wanted to pass out until the next day. I was still on a high from meeting Nate Stone. I wasn’t innocent. I’d absolutely imagined what it would be like to meet him and the other members of Remus, but since I had, I wasn’t sure what I thought anymore. He hadn’t been mean or anything. He just hadn’t been what I had expected. As a person who had only really met him for the first time that day, I knew quite a lot about him. Not on a private level, but I listened to his music, and his lyrics were deeply personal. Anybody could find out his birthday, height, and weight on the internet if they really wanted to. He was a public figure. People wrote about him, therefore people knew about him, whether or not they actually really knew him. It was weird. I felt like I was looking at this face that was so familiar to me, and this person I felt like knew a lot about, but talking to me, he just seemed like a guy who was tired from a long flight and wanted to rest in his hotel room. After leaving him in his suite, I’d come back down and told Makani who he was. Nate Stone, yup, the same one whose music I was always making her listen to. We were talking about what had happened that day when she remembered. She had just been doing her job, checking in another guest, and I had been standing there trying very hard not to make a fool out of myself. I had been a little surprised when

she said I’d walk him up to his suite. It made sense, thinking about it later, that I would do it since it was me Joseph had asked to make sure his suite was ready for him. It was just still a little surreal, even though we’d talked and he was indeed a normal human being just like all the rest of us. It was Nate Stone. I had had him so built up in my head as this beautiful guy who wrote amazing music, and my first encounter with him had to be when he’d gotten off a long flight and wanted a nap. Maybe I should have let her do it since I’d been a little star-struck talking to him. He hadn’t made it awkward, just hard to have a conversation since he hadn’t seemed to have much to say. It had sort of felt like he had been waiting for me to finally shut up and leave so he could get in the shower and go to sleep or something. “You were up there for a little while. What happened with that guy? The band guy you like?” Makani asked as we left the resort. “I was just showing him around the suite. Telling him what he could do. How he could discover Lanai, the usual stuff.” “This guy’s like your idol, right? How was he?” “I wouldn’t call him my idol,” I said, smiling at her. “I just like his music. He was fine. Sort of quiet. Obviously, you saw him, too. Very hot.” “The truth comes out. You don’t love him for his talent. You love him because you want to give him his firstborn child,” she laughed, teasing me. I felt myself blushing. She wasn’t doing this to me; she had seen him, too. He had some scruff on his chin, a nice hard jawline, and deep hazel eyes. His hair was dark brown, sort of like Makani’s. Longish, but not long enough to cover his face. Nate Stone was a cute guy. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. He was really tall, and he looked like he worked out a lot, even through the hoodie he had been wearing. I also knew

that one of his arms was covered in tattoos. His looks and image did nothing to hurt his band’s popularity, but he was actually a really talented guy. “I didn’t hear you disagree,” I said pointedly. She laughed. “All right, maybe I saw it a little,” she said. “He’s good looking if you like that sort of brooding, bad-boy type.” I never got shy talking about guys with Makani. I wasn’t a big dater, but we worked at a beach resort. Guys had their shirts off in front of us most of the time. A lot of the time, those guys were pretty cute. I was attracted to Nate Stone, but who knew about Remus and wasn’t? I didn’t need to sound like a crazy fan who’d try to steal his dirty clothes when he sent them to the laundry. “Did you say anything to him?” she asked. “What? No. He’s here on vacation. He didn’t come here to get bothered by fans.” “You didn’t have to bother him. Just tell him you knew who he is and you enjoy his work.” “No, I’m glad I didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem like he really wanted to chat. He’s here alone for a long time; that sounds like someone who’s trying to get away.” “From what? He’s a famous musician. I’d say that was the life,” Makani quipped. I saw what she meant, but she hadn’t been there when I was talking to him. The only reason I could think of why he had come on vacation and for such a long time was because he wanted to get away from everything. He probably didn’t get the kind of privacy he could get here when he was at home. Either that, or he wanted time alone to create, which was really exciting. He was a songwriter, so maybe he was here to have some time to put music together because Remus was getting back together and releasing new music?

In either case, he had come here alone, most likely because that was what he wanted to be: alone. Maybe if he seemed a little more at ease, I’d mention that I enjoyed his music. I really wanted to tell him. His music and lyrics were good, and he deserved to know. It felt sort of silly, but his band’s music meant a lot to me. I didn’t feel like I was just a fan, but that’s probably how every fan felt. “He and his band just separated not that long ago; he probably just wants a break from the drama. Somewhere he can just be a normal person.” Somewhere nobody knew who he was, and he could pretend what he’d left behind didn’t exist. I understood if that was what he wanted to do. I could relate. “So you just won’t tell him?” she asked. I thought about it. “If he asked me, I wouldn’t lie and say I’d never heard his music, but I’m not going to say anything first. He’s on vacation. I don’t want to be the reason he has to be on the lookout for photographers or people who are going to try to mob him.” “Guess he’s lucky he chose Lanai,” Makani quipped. She asked me whether I wanted to go out to eat that night. Her treat. The sun had gone down, but the night was warm and a little balmy. The nightlife here on Lanai had been the only one I’d ever experienced. Before moving, I’d been too young to go to clubs. Most of the places we went to have a good time were accessible by the beach, so we didn’t have to drive or walk the streets. We had changed out of our uniforms at the hotel. We had the option to eat there, too, but decided to go out. The food at the hotel was great, but it was for tourists. Good, but not authentic. There was a lot of really fancy, gourmet food and fine dining. It was nothing like the stuff you’d get at a luau that was simple and delicious, made by people who’d been taught to cook by their families, not a culinary school. I didn’t pretend I could cook Hawai’ian food, but I liked to think I’d eaten enough to know when

it was good or not. The food had been one of the biggest changes that I’d had to deal with when I moved here. We didn’t tend to get a lot of poke in Rochester, Texas. Four years in, and I could eat my weight in lomi-lomi salmon any day of the week. After stopping by my place and driving back to hers in the city to drop her car off, we decided we’d go to a little restaurant her friend owned. We walked there from her house since it was only about ten minutes away. Unless you knew about the place, you wouldn’t be able to find it. It didn’t have a big lit-up sign outside or a line around the block. The only tourists you saw in there were the ones who had been smart enough to get a local to tell them where to get real Hawai’ian food. Anybody going there for the first time would probably think eating there would be some sort of health hazard. Calling it a dive bar was generous. The five tables in the fairly small square room had chairs all the way around, so if you were eating there, you were eating with strangers. A lot of people just stood eating by the bar. All the plates were mismatched, and the glasses were plastic. It was like eating in your thrifty grandmother’s house — if she happened to make the most delicious food you’d ever had in your life. Makani’s friend, Mamo, was older than us, but they’d known each other since Makani was a teenager. We ate there pretty often. His chicken long rice was what I would request as my last meal before I passed. Sitting there with Makani and a bunch of people who’d become my friends by the time we left was one of the reasons I loved Lanai. I’d lived in a small town before coming here, too. I loved being able to point out my neighbors and know them all by name. I loved how even though tourism was the major economic activity here, there was a homey, family vibe to the local spots around the island.

We ended up sitting at a table with some guys who ran boat trips through the marine reserve for tourists. We ordered our food and laughed with them, drinking cocktails. One of them was a man about forty years old who always hit on Makani, but she always turned him down. He was married. We knew his wife, but as far as we knew, he only did it for a bit of fun. The people at our table changed a few times during our meal. At one point, this man, probably the only tourist in there, walked up to us and offered to buy me a drink. He had a European accent and was pretty sunburned, around maybe his mid-thirties, speaking pidgin badly. I only let him buy me one if he got one for Makani, too. He brought us the drinks and talked with us for a while before leaving when it was clear neither of us was going to end up leaving with him. Makani watched him weave through the crowd and walk out the door. “I think we just ruined his night,” she said. “He was only in here for one thing. He probably asked someone to tell him where a good place to pick up local girls was.” “He had his eye on you since he came in,” she said. I scowled. “Not my type.” “I don’t think your type even exists, Abby,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I’ve liked guys before,” I said defensively. “I know you have. You just don’t talk to them, date them, or let them take you out.” I shrugged. Not all a lie. In fact, mostly true. Okay. All true. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a type or that I thought Lanai was too small. I had heard the rumors about me and Makani. A lot of people, especially people who didn’t know her very well, thought we were together. I didn’t do anything to necessarily dispute those rumors because it wasn’t a

big deal, but I could see why they had started in the first place. I just couldn’t do it. The thought of dating scared me a little. I hadn’t seen enough stable, rewarding relationships to really want to be involved in one. Not even at home. Especially not at home. Both of my parents were dead. My father, last I had checked, was actually still alive, but he might have died in the years since. Even if he hadn’t, he was as good as dead to me. I didn’t even have his name anymore. My mother was in a better place now; I knew she was dead. She had died in front of me. It had been years since it had happened, and Makani knew. Of course, I had told her. What she didn’t know was that it was the main reason why I never dated. Before, it had been even worse. I wouldn’t even talk to guys right after it had happened. Now, I could flirt and had even had a hookup or two, but never dated. I never kept a guy around long enough to show me his true colors. I thought about saying it, but why would I ruin such a good night with something like that? It had all happened a long time ago, and I was still healing from it. One day, it wouldn’t affect me at all. I was hopeful. Until then, everyone on the island could be jealous of my gorgeous wife. I changed the subject, not wanting to bring the tone down. “Are you tired tonight, or did you want to do something after this?” I asked her. “There should be a party on the beach not far from your place.” “Party like hotel party?” “No, all guys from the city. You want to go?” she asked. I said I did. It was at a place not that far from my house, a house where I knew a bunch of guys who had moved here from Los Angeles lived. It was a pretty big place, but they shared it. Everyone was in the back on the beach when we got there.

There were plenty of familiar faces. A lot of people had been there longer than us, so they were already a little drunk. There was music playing and people grouped together having a good time. People stumbled up to us asking us where we’d been and how we were. A number of them worked with us at the hotel or at other resorts on the island. Even if they didn’t do it all year round, they tended to get jobs taking tourists on hikes and things like that to take advantage of the seasonal jobs they brought with them. We got ourselves drinks and walked out onto the beach. I counted maybe twenty to thirty people at the party, not many at all, but everyone knew each other. Doing things like this meant we could still have fun on our own island while the tourists flooded the bars and lounges. I appreciated the industry, hell, I worked in it, but I understood wanting to be around your friends. At work, you had to be polite and accommodate strangers. Here, you could speak pidgin and let your hair down. “Oh no,” I heard Makani mumble under her breath. “What is it?” I asked. I looked around and saw what had changed her mood so fast. Living on such a small, tightly-knit island was a good thing, most of the time. Knowing everyone was nice, except when you had someone to avoid. Keno and Makani had dated, and their relationship and ended abruptly almost two months ago. It was so sudden, you could have blinked and missed it. She completely cut him off one day, and it had taken days for her to tell me what had gone wrong. I knew what was wrong now, though; she had spotted him, and if he had seen us, too, he was going to come over. “It’s okay, he probably just wants to say hi,” I said reassuringly.

I liked Keno. He was a nice guy. He worked at the Four Seasons with us, and I was still friendly with him, as far as was still considered respectful to my friendship with Makani. She told me that she didn’t mind me hanging out with him since we had all hung out together when they were dating, but I knew it would hurt her. She hadn’t taken the break up well. I hated that I had had to pick sides, but I was always nice to him when I saw him. Their breakup was so unexpected — and if we were being honest, she had left him — but she had definitely taken it harder than he had. “Sundays are his night off; how could I forget,” she admonished herself. “Hey, Keno,” I said to him as he approached. He smiled, coming up to hug me. He was wearing a black t-shirt and pants. He was a good-looking guy, with high cheekbones and dusky-colored skin. “Howzit,” he said to me. “Makani,” he said slowly, looking at her. She looked at him and gave him a tight smile, not saying anything. Wow, this was about to be a long night. “I didn’t see you today, Keno,” I said, trying to smooth things over a little. “No, I didn’t come by the main building today. How was work?” Makani let me carry the conversation, only saying something when I asked her directly. I knew it was weird between them, but I wished they would just have a conversation about who they were to each other now that they weren’t a couple. “Are you here with anybody?” I asked him. I intended it to be casual, but I saw the way Makani clammed up when I said it. “No. Just me. Are you?” “No, we’re here together,” I said. “When did you get here?” “I was just leaving,” he said, glancing at Makani, who was studiously looking everywhere but at him. He sighed and told us he’d see us at work. He hugged me again,

while Makani just nodded in his direction instead of doing the same. “Oh my God,” she sighed when he was out of earshot. “I can’t stand you two together,” I told her, taking a sip out of my cup. “I’m sorry. I just can’t talk to him. Did I ruin your night? Do you want to leave?” “No, we came here to have a good time. Have another drink,” I suggested, trying to help her get over the meeting. She had one and slowly recovered quickly from the run-in with Keno. She was laughing and smiling again in no time. I didn’t want to tell her, but seeing the way she had become with Keno really didn’t make me want to date. They had been friends at one point, so hopefully, enough time would pass when they could be friends again one day. We hadn’t driven there, so nobody was too scared to have too much to drink. Two hours after we’d arrived, Makani pulled me from the party, reminding me that we had work the next day. The walk from there to my place was fifteen minutes, but was made significantly longer by how drunk we were. We managed to get there in one piece, both of us holding our shoes in our hands and howling with laughter.

Chapter Five Nate My body felt heavy and useless as I tried to wake up. I felt like I was awake already, but I couldn’t move. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it. I was on the bed. On it, like on top. I had never made it under the covers the night before. I was covered in sweat, and my head was pounding. I had to squint my eyes to keep them open because it was so bright in the room. Who the fuck turned on so many lights? What time was it? I groaned and struggled into an upright sitting position. My eyes adjusted a little letting me see that no, the lights were not on, it was just daylight. Bright, sunny daylight. I had no idea what time it was or when I had even gotten to sleep. I couldn’t really even remember leaving the room yesterday once I had gotten here. All right, I had had nights like this before. First thing I had to do was figure out what time it was. I patted my pants pockets, finding my phone in the back. Thank God I hadn’t been robbed since I’d obviously gone out. My eyes squinted at the lit phone screen. Twelve o’clock on a Monday afternoon. I flopped backward back onto the bed. The action made my head hurt. So last night had been a big night, huh? Obviously because now I could hardly see three feet ahead of me, and I felt like I had a boulder inside my fucking skull. I unzipped my hoodie and peeled it off of me since I was sweating so much. I touched my forehead. It was cool, but still wet with sweat. Hangovers didn’t do that to you.

Fuck, I felt sick. My stomach turned, and I felt dizzy. I got up slowly to my feet and peeled my shirt off, leaving it on the floor with my hoodie. I staggered around the room, looking for that mini kitchen refreshment center the girl, what was her name, had told me about. There had to be water in there. It was just the more expensive version of a minibar. I yanked the fridge open and looked inside. Wow, she hadn’t been kidding; they really had hooked me up. Ace of Spades, Hennessey, Patron…all my biggest mistakes. I spotted the bottled water and reached for one, wrestling the cap off before I downed nearly the whole thing in one go. I finished it and tried to get the cap back on. Couldn’t. Shaky hands. Awesome. How long had it been since I’d had any heroin because my body was telling me it had been too long? That was the other reason why this shit was so fucked up. Right then, I felt like shit. My head was pounding. I couldn’t remember anything, and I felt like I’d probably made some terrible decisions the night before, but I didn’t want to use. I wasn’t anxious and panicky. I didn’t feel like I was drowning. My body was just so used to having that fucking poison in it all the time that it was getting dope sick. It wasn’t just me that was addicted, like the me who could control the shit I did and didn’t do. I needed the stuff. I’d trained my body to need it like I needed food. Like I needed water. I knew how this went. The longer I took before I shot up again, the worse it would get. I’d start sweating more, and then I’d get queasy. I’d throw up even though I was certain I hadn’t had anything to eat since I’d gotten here yesterday. I’d get sicker and sicker till it eventually passed and I stopped withdrawing, which could take days, or I’d cave and shoot up so I wouldn’t feel like I was dying.

I already knew which one was going to happen. I chucked the empty bottle in the trash with its bottle cap and staggered back to the bed. I leaned over to my backpack, where I knew my kit was. I tried the zipper, getting frustrated and nearly breaking it, trying to open it up. I pulled my kit out and put it on the bed in front of me. I was starting to get anxious now that I knew what was coming. I knew I just had to get this stupid thing open and stick the needle in me, and I’d be fine. My hands felt like they weren’t mine trying to get a hold on the zipper. I got it open a little, then shoved my fingers in the hole, pulling the zipper teeth apart. My stuff flew out of the bag, landing on the bed and the floor. “Fuck,” I swore, managing to get one bottle before it rolled off the bed and smashed on the floor. Syringes were all over the ground. I got down on my hands and knees to grab one. I wasn’t gentle enough trying to get its plastic wrapping off. It snapped into two pieces in my hands. “Shit.” I threw the pieces across the room and searched the floor for the closest one to me. I spotted one peeking out from under the couch at the foot of the bed and angrily shoved it out of the way. I dropped to my knees, getting the syringe out. I lugged my suitcase out of my way, making all my luggage fall out across the floor. I climbed back onto the bed and tried to pierce the vial to fill the syringe. My hands were shaking and sweaty. I wiped them off on my jeans and tried again, gritting my teeth. I got it filled and swore again, remembering my belt was still somewhere on the floor. Fuck it. I needed this now before it got any worse. I flexed my arm, clenching my fist to find somewhere to stick it. I got it inside, feeling the little bit of pain when the needle stuck. I pulled some blood out and carefully emptied the syringe. I fell back on the bed, exhausted. The high crept up on me. It felt like being filled up with warm air. I started feeling better immediately, but it only lasted until I realized what I

had done again. What I was still doing. Was it even worth getting mad about anymore? I was sick. I had gone, what? Twelve or so hours without my stuff, and my body told me no way. I lay there for a while, waiting to feel well enough to get up again. The drug made my headache disappear, but I knew I was still technically hungover. I got up and walked around the room, finally able to take it in since I’d woken up. The sliding double doors onto the terrace were open, and I wondered whether I had done it or if housekeeping had come through when I was passed out. I walked back inside. I needed more water. And food probably; had I eaten since I’d gotten here? I wasn’t really that hungry, but it would probably help me with my hangover when I’d come down enough to feel it again. I walked through the living area to get another water when I stopped. The piano. It was there. The girl who’d brought me up to my suite had told me they’d gotten me one, but I was just then really looking at it. I walked over. It was nice. White instead of traditional black, probably so it didn’t clash with the way the rest of the room was decorated. They’d had to move some of the furniture around to make it fit, but it wasn’t that obvious if you didn’t know it wasn’t technically supposed to be there. I ran a hand over the smooth, painted wood before I lifted the cover to look at the keys. The piano was always my favorite. Ever since I used to sit on the bench with my mother as a kid, obstructing her while she tried to play. She was a classically trained pianist, but hadn’t gone into a musical career, making it her hobby instead. I still had her piano. It was an antique grand piano that my father had gotten her,

which he had refused to give me many times before he finally let me have it. Rumor was she used to play when she was pregnant with me, so I’d been listening to classical music since before I was born. I didn’t know whether that was true or not, but it wasn’t a bad thing to imagine. I sat down, ghosting my fingers over the keys. She could play anything. I remembered being so impressed by how well she knew all the dead masters’ music. She was my piano teacher until I started going to school and it became too inconvenient for her to do it anymore. I played a couple keys. Then a couple more. My fingers knew where to go. Chopin. “Nocturne number one.” B flat major. My dad would listen to classical music sometimes when he worked, too. Neither of them had ever drilled me to practice. I always loved it. It had always been one thing I knew they were happy that I did, and that just made me love it more. I knew the piece by heart. I didn’t need any sheet music. I used to be able to lose hours sat at the piano. Something about it was so calming to me. Not just the sound of the music, but the action, too. It felt so productive, like the music was inside of me, and the piano was just the way it got out. At some point, my headache dulled a little, and I felt myself get lost in the rhythm of playing — remembering the song, hearing it inside my head before I played the keys. By the time I was done, it was already past one. I decided to take a shower. I needed one. I grabbed a Snickers bar from the refreshment center, too, since I hadn’t eaten anything since I’d gotten here. I was doing this wrong. This wasn’t how you had a vacation. Whatever, I could just start today. Today was my real first day. After the shower, I looked at the in-room dining menu before I stopped. What was I doing? Why was I still hiding? It was safe here. I didn’t need to hide out. Nobody had

recognized me, and if they had, they didn’t care. I was just another guy here. I went down to the first floor. Last night was foggy at best, but I had definitely gotten drunk, so I had definitely gone to a bar. Did they also serve food? Where had it been? Definitely not in here; it was outside somewhere. I left the main building looking around like I was seeing everything for the first time. People were laid out in their swimsuits by the pool. Yeah, the place might have been near the pool, I kind of remembered almost falling into it. I looked around and spotted it, separated from the pool by a small, palm-covered lawn. It was open air with a palm leaf thatched roof. I grabbed a stool and sat down. “Hey. You made it through the night,” the bartender said, coming up to me. I looked at him, and when he didn’t look away, I realized he was talking to me. “Sorry. You might think I’m someone else,” I told him. Fuck, did he know who I was? Why was I so popular with bartenders? “Nate?” he asked. “Hulopoe suite? You’re here from LA?” I nodded slowly. Clearly, this guy knew who I was. I tried, I really did, to remember this guy, but I couldn’t. I was hungover when I’d woken up, so I had been drinking, apparently here, but this guy? Couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. He had black hair that was cropped really close to his scalp. We could have been the same age. Hawai’ian. Pretty strong accent. “What’d you put in that Fireball last night?” I asked jokingly. “Are you okay? I had to cut you off last night when you wouldn’t leave. You closed the bar down.” “Hey, whatever I did, I’m sorry. I was blacked out. I don’t remember anything.” “I can see that,” he said, laughing. “I’m Keno.” “Do I have to write someone a check? Did I fight someone?”

“No, you were just very thirsty. Hey, sorry about your ex-wife.” I cringed. I had told him about Kirsten? Oh God. Had I started crying or something? Fuck, I couldn’t believe it. “Listen, whatever I said, let’s just call it drunken ramblings and start over,” I offered hopefully. “You want it stricken from the record, consider it gone,” Keno said with an easy smile. “How’s your head?” “Pounding.” “You really put it away last night. I practically had to carry you back to the suite.” “You took me upstairs? God, I hope you bought me dinner first,” I joked. He laughed. He seemed like a cool guy. I could deal with a blackout. At least no one was suing me. “Have you eaten yet?” “Not yet. I’m trying to get rid of this hangover. I feel like shit.” “Here, try some of this,” he said. He poured a cloudy liquid into a glass and topped it off with something clear. He slid it over to me. “What is it?” “Hangover cure.” I picked up the glass and brought it cautiously to my mouth. It smelled sweet. I took a sip. There was coconut in there and something acidic, but I couldn’t place it. “Drink, drink. All of it,” he urged. I frowned and downed the liquid. It burned slightly, making me think there might have been a little alcohol in there. I finished it and put the glass down. “You’ll be good as new in no time,” he told me.

“Thanks. I’ll see you around,” I said, leaving before I started drinking and we had a repeat of the night before. I still hadn’t found anywhere to eat. I walked back to the main building, actually feeling a little better. Whatever island potion Keno gave me worked, I thought. I thought vaguely about going back to the suite and just ordering in-room again. “Oh, Mr. Stone,” I heard someone say, stopping me in my tracks. In front of me was the front desk girl. What was her name? Abby. “Hey,” I said. “How is everything? How was your morning?” she asked. My morning? I slept through it because I had gotten blackout drunk the night before. Oh, and then I’d gotten up and shot heroin in my veins. “Fine,” I said to her. “Is everything okay?” she asked. My headache was finally gone, but no, everything was pretty fucked up. Standing there with her looking at me I felt like she knew somehow, and it felt like shit. I nodded and turned my back to her, heading for the elevator to take me up to my room. Once I got inside, I went straight for the bed where I had my kit. I picked it up, suddenly torn about shooting up again. I was in such an awesome hotel; this place was way too nice to come and do shit like this. The staff seemed like really good people. They deserved guests who weren’t coming here to get high. I started opening it up before I stopped and dropped it on the bed again. I left the room. If it was far away from me, I wouldn’t feel like using. I tried to look for that menu to make a food order to the room. I felt like the drugs were loud in the other room. I could feel them in there. I shut my eyes, knowing I’d already lost. I was flat on my back on the bed with a

needle in my arm before I even made my food order.

Chapter Six Abby Because of the schedule I had at the hotel, weeks more or less bled into each other. That meant the summer felt like one big stretch of activity. Parties, people, good times. It could get pretty busy, with so many people and so many different things happening at once, but I loved it. I thrived on it. Every day was different, though, so it didn’t get routine or boring. I felt like people were their best selves when they came here. Everyone seemed to always be happy. I didn’t know what it was — the weather, all the good food, the professionalism and warmth of the Four Seasons staff? Everything combined? Whatever it was, it made my job that much easier since everyone seemed just as pleased to be here as I was to have them. That was the thing about hotels. Whether people were there just for their honeymoon or were there for a month, they were all living there. It was their home for as long as they were there. A home but better because not everyone had twenty-four-hour concierge and all the amenities of an award-winning, five-star resort at their disposal when they were at their real homes. I worked at the hotel, so I knew how much work went into keeping everything running. It would probably surprise a lot of people how demanding the hospitality industry was. It was all love, though. It could be hard, but ultimately, it was rewarding, especially if you liked working with people. It was a lot of fun, too. Every time there was a luau, I got to go, too. It was just after noon, and a few people had already come by the front desk or called

to ask for more information about the luau happening that night. I was excited for the first one of the season. I’d been to enough at the hotel and ones held by friends to know how they went, but for many people, it was going to be their first experience of Hawai’ian culture, and that made me excited. Makani got off the phone beside me after answering questions to a hotel guest about just that before she turned and looked at me. “Another one?” “Yeah. The turn out’s going to be pretty great tonight.” “Sounds like it,” I said. Makani frowned at me. “Are you all right? Why don’t you sound excited? You usually love these things.” “I do. I was just thinking about something. Well, actually someone.” “Who? No, wait. Let me guess. Our esteemed guest in the Hulopoe suite?” she said knowingly. I nodded. “I was just thinking about whether he’d show up or not.” “Have you seen him since he checked in?” “Not really. Just in passing. I know it’s a big place, but nobody else really has, either. He was at the bar a couple times the day after he checked in, but that’s it. It’s like he’s boarded himself in there. He hasn’t done anything here on the grounds. He doesn’t even come out of there for his meals. He orders in.” “We don’t offer in-room dining, so the guests don’t use it.” “You know what I mean, Makani,” I sighed. “I don’t. He’s on vacation. He probably came here so he could relax, and people do that in different ways. He has television, Wi-Fi, food up there. He doesn’t really need to

leave if he doesn’t want to. Maybe snorkeling and hiking aren’t his idea of fun.” “So he came here to look at the inside of his suite for three months?” I asked. She shrugged. “Maybe that’s exactly what he did.” “I don’t think he’s okay,” I admitted. “Why? Because he’s a person who enjoys his own company?” “I just think maybe something’s wrong. It’s been a week. Even if people don’t end up doing anything while they’re here, they’ll at least come out of their rooms.” “It’s like he’s insulting you personally for not liking golf,” Makani said. “Joseph told me to get his suite ready for him, and I told him that he could look for me if he needed anything. I feel sort of responsible that he has a good time.” “As a concerned member of the Four Seasons staff, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. My eyes widened at what she was suggesting. “Of course,” I said, a little insulted. “This has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a fan?” I shook my head. “I’m working, and he’s a guest at the hotel. Him having a good stay is part of my job and responsibility.” Makani nodded her head slowly like she still didn’t believe me, but was going to let me get away with this one. “All right. Go invite him to the luau. You’re so worried about him not having a good time, go threaten him with one.” “You think I should?” I asked. “If nothing else, go up there and make sure he didn’t die when we weren’t looking. Either way, you’ll get what you want. You’ll go up there and see what’s been keeping him,

or you’ll finally get him out taking part in all the complimentary activities he’s paying for whether or not he does take part.” I thought about it. She was right. Even if he was up there and hadn’t been out for a week because he preferred it that way, then I’d know and would be able to rest knowing he was okay. “Are you okay down here for a few minutes?” I asked her. “Go. I’ve got this,” she said, waving me away. Before going up, I grabbed some pamphlets from the concierge: the ocean activities one, the wilderness activities one, and the cultural activities one. There had to be something he liked from those three. If nothing else, then golf. Anything. I couldn’t imagine coming to Hawai’i and spending all my time inside. I got to the second floor and stopped at his door. I inhaled deeply, knocking. I waited, not hearing any activity on the other side. I tried again, knocking a little harder. The door was yanked open just as my fist was coming to meet it. Nate Stone was standing in the doorway of his suite pulling a robe over his shoulders. He was wearing that, underwear, and nothing else. The underwear was stretchy, tight over his hips and crotch. So tight that I didn’t want to look back down there to see just how tight. Christ Almighty, was this guy hot. I knew what he looked like without his shirt on, but it was different seeing it in real life. Different and distracting. We were in the same space. I wasn’t just looking at a picture of him; he was looking back. My eyes went down his body slowly before coming back to his face. He was fit and muscular, with ridges in his abdomen and two lines like a “v” at his hips, tapering down and disappearing under his underwear. What had I come up here to do again? Oh right.

“G-good afternoon, Mr. Stone,” I stammered. I cleared my throat. He came closer, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms. The movement made the robe move over his chest, tightening the large muscles there. Oh my God, could he at least tie it closed? I felt myself blush. Should I leave and come back when he’s dressed? I was trying to be professional. I had come up here to check on him to make sure he was okay. Well, he certainly looked that way. More than okay. A lot more than okay. “Call me Nate. Abby?” he said, furrowing his brow a little like he was trying to remember my name. “Right. Abby. I’m Abby,” I said stupidly. Oh my God, when did I stop knowing how to form whole sentences? “Is something wrong? I don’t think I called the front desk today,” he said. I looked at him, getting a better look now that he was closer. His hair was messy, and his eyes had dark circles under them, like he hadn’t been getting much rest. He looked like he’d been stressed, like he hadn’t taken that trip to the spa that I had suggested. “You didn’t,” I said. “You guys make personal room calls?” He cocked one brow asking me the question. I hoped I wasn’t annoying him. “No. We’re just a little concerned, Mr. Stone. Nate,” I started. “The Hulopoe suite’s one of the best in the hotel, but you haven’t been outside for days.” He tilted his head a little, looking surprised. “What? Are there cameras in here? Are you spying on me?” he asked. “No, not at all. With everything to do on the island, we’re just surprised you haven’t done anything yet.” “I’m good. Thanks,” he said.

I held the pamphlets out. “If you change your mind,” I said. He took them and looked at them. “In fact, there’s a luau tonight on the luau grounds near the beach.” “Oh yeah?” he said, not looking up. “It’s the first one of the summer. There will be food, music, and performances,” I said. He still hadn’t looked up. “Uh-huh,” he said. I blinked. Maybe this had been a mistake. “Hope to see you there,” I tried to say brightly. He nodded, not even bothering making a sound that time. I opened my mouth to tell him good afternoon, but stopped. I turned and started walking away quickly. Had I been bothering him that much? What was wrong? Why was he in such a bad mood? I sighed, wishing I’d said something a little different. Even if he was in a bad mood, that didn’t mean he had to act like that. What was that thing people said about never meeting your idols? I never imagined he’d be so dismissive. Even if he didn’t want to talk to me, he could have at least said it, not treated me like I hadn’t been standing right there. Maybe Makani was right; he didn’t want to be disturbed. He wanted to enjoy Hawai’i from the great indoors. He wasn’t going to come down to the luau. He was perfectly happy in there. If that was the case, then who was I to tear him away from his happy place? You can’t get them all, I thought, coming back down to the lobby. I had made the invitation. If he really didn’t want it, then so be it. As long as he was doing whatever made him happy. I got back behind the desk, flopping down into my seat. “How’d it go? Is he dead?” “He’s fine. He’s also not coming.”

“He said he wouldn’t?” “He didn’t have to. He was pretty upset that I’d gone up there.” “Really? Was he rude? He seemed like a nice enough guy the last time I talked to him,” she said. I shrugged. “I was obviously disrupting whatever it was he was doing up there. He was just humoring me till I left.” “Maybe you just caught him at a bad time?” “No, I think he’s just happy spending his days and nights inside. It’s fine. If that’s what he wants, then that’s fine. He can do that.” “Are you all right? You sound a little upset.” “It’s silly. I just thought talking to him would be different. He was a little cold and dismissive.” “Bad fan experience?” she asked. I smiled sadly. Nate Stone was a person — just like any other person. I knew that by listening to his music. I couldn’t romanticize him as someone who didn’t have bad days and who didn’t have a personality of his own. I just always have expected that people wanted connection. Smiling at someone, being nice to them opens you up to them. I had tried with Nate, and he hadn’t wanted it. “I think we’re doing our job leaving him alone,” I said wryly. “Who knows? He might surprise you.” I let myself think about it for a while. Nate Stone on the beach tonight. Given the way he apparently felt about company, I couldn’t see it happening. Hey. I’d tried. “He won’t show up.”

Chapter Seven Nate People have been getting addicted to heroin for decades. People have been getting clean for decades, too. Robert Downey Jr. did it, and he became Iron Man. I could do this. If I felt it coming and just managed not to do it once, this one time, then I could do it again. It would become easier. Then, I could become Iron Man. It had been hours. I was running out of things to do and tell myself so I didn’t stab myself with a needle and shoot the heroin directly into my heart. I tried drinking; I had so much booze in the room, and it helped, but it wasn’t the same. It had just made my head hurt. I tried eating real food, but the steak had only one bite taken out of it and was still on the dining table, stone cold from sitting there so long. My body knew what it wanted. It was a fight. It was trying to wear me down, just make me do it because I knew that when I did. I’d feel great. I’d feel like shit for giving in when I didn’t want to, but I’d feel great. That craving would stop, and my mind would clear, and I’d feel normal. That was all it was. I just wanted to feel normal. If that meant feeding the beast, then that couldn’t be that bad. Not if all the other time I couldn’t even think straight because I was fiending too hard. I’d just take a little. Not enough to get me high, just enough toI heard my phone vibrating somewhere in the room. I got up. Where the hell did I leave it? It wasn’t on the bed, not on the couch, not on the floor, either. I walked out into the living area and saw it on the piano. I went over and picked it up, sort of surprised someone was calling me. I was scared for a second that it might have been Kirsten, but it

wasn’t. It was my dad. What was he doing calling me? I wasn’t upset that he had; I just thought he had been traveling and was wondering where he was calling from. I took the call. “Dad?” “Nate. How are you?” he asked. “I’m great. I wasn’t expecting you to call me. I thought you had gone somewhere.” “I got back this morning. I’m at home,” he said. Home was San Francisco. That was where he was. The same house I’d grown up in. He had never moved out. He had a lot of other homes around the country, but he always went back there. “Did you have a good trip?” “I called to ask about you, Nate,” he said, laughing a little. I sat at the piano with my back against the keys. He wasn’t about to let me get away with not talking about myself. He and I were close; I liked talking to him. I probably should have made more of an effort to reach out to him since he was always checking up on me. How did he know to call at just the right moment? Two minutes more, and I’d have had a needle in my arm, hating myself. We had became close sort of by force when my mom died. I never saw him with another woman again. He had hired people to help with me when I was a kid, but it was always women old enough to be my grandmother. Never young au pairs from Central America he’d fuck on the side. The older I got, I wished he would find someone, especially when it was time for me to move out. I’d been better about talking to him when the band had just started out. He’d always hear songs I was working on before anyone else, and I’d send him our music that we

released independently myself, so he didn’t have to buy it. When the stuff with the band and Kirsten started going south, we stopped talking as much. He’d hired a lawyer for me during the divorce and had been really supportive since. He knew about the dope, but I spared him the gorier details of my addiction. Dope or not, I was in a bad place regardless, and he knew that. “I’m okay,” I said shortly. “Is it all still the same?” “I’m staying somewhere else. The beach house is gone. It’s a golf course now. I’m at the Four Seasons.” “Oh, Lanai?” he said. He’d heard about it. “Have you been?” “Only once for less than twenty-four hours for work. Never got to really see anything, but it’s a great choice. Beautiful island. Do you like it?” “Uh, yeah, it’s great. I’m having a great time,” I said. I wasn’t lying. I knew it was a beautiful island from what I’d seen of it coming here from the airport and looking down at the beach and ocean from my private terrace. I did like it. The fact that I hadn’t been outside or spoken to another person face-to-face for nearly a week straight was less important than letting him know I was okay. I would be okay, eventually. “You learned to swim in Hawai’i, do you remember that?” he asked me. I did remember. I was the only mainland kid, and I didn’t know how to swim. After almost drowning myself trying to join them when they would go out into deeper water, my dad put floaties on me. By the time we were heading back to the Bay, I knew how to swim.

“Yeah. It’s great being back.” “How long will you be gone?” “The whole summer. I need the time alone. LA’s a disaster.” “You know you can always come home. If you want to move, you can have the house in Marin,” he said. I smiled, sighing. I was a twenty-seven-year-old man. I already had a house, and I didn’t need to hide out in one of his properties. I wasn’t that far gone…yet. I appreciated the offer, though. It was his way of looking out for me. “Thanks. I’ll remember that. I’m doing good, though,” I said more brightly than I felt. “It’s nice here. Quiet. I don’t have to talk to anybody if I don’t want to. It’s beautiful, too. I think it’s good for me.” “It might be that. Maybe it’ll inspire you with your music,” he said. There was something we agreed on. I had been playing a lot since I’d gotten here. Nothing new. Not even any of my stuff, just pieces I’d memorized over the years – some classical stuff, pieces from movie scores, things like that. I’d fallen out of practice when shit got bad. It had been nice to get used to playing again. “Yeah. Let’s hope it does,” I said. “Can I ask about the band?” Dad asked carefully. “I think I’m done,” I said honestly. “I don’t want to go back. The label only wants to make money, which means they have to make music that sells, not music that matters. I don’t want to put my name on something I don’t believe in.” “Your label isn’t the only one in the world,” he said. “I know. I’m not saying I want to give up. Remus started as something I loved, but it’s

changed too much. I won’t sell out. I care too much about the stuff I write.” “Take your time off to think about that, okay? When you come back, talk to them; if their terms still don’t work, buy yourself out of your contract and leave.” The music business was slimy as all hell. It would be a lot harder to get out than what my dad suggested, but I agreed with him. Remus’s first major label album had broken records. It had done great. We had had unprecedented ticket sales and sold out shows. All four of the songs we released as singles charted in the top ten. The album had twelve tracks, and in the beginning, as we were putting the track list together, I’d had nine songs that I had written on it. I watched that number drop to seven, then five, then four as the producers engineered what they believed would be a better sound for us, as far as popular appeal would go. They’d chopped some of my songs up, rewriting lyrics and changing the music before they used them, making them unrecognizable. They made a Remus album that wasn’t a Remus album. When it was released and had done as well as it had, I tried to take credit for it, but I couldn’t. Not when I had almost nothing to do with more than half the songs on there. If nothing else, I was getting my career back. The career I had wanted in the first place when I started playing piano with my mother over twenty years ago. The money was less important than being real. I could deal with less money, as long as it meant I wasn’t lying to myself. “I’ll do that,” I said. “Thanks, Dad.” “I’ll leave you alone now. You get back to your vacation.” I thanked him again for calling me and hung up the phone.

Sometimes it made me feel shitty that my dad was about the only friend I had left, but other times, I felt like it was a good thing. He was clearly the only person I knew wasn’t trying to get anything from me. Me doing well would only make him happy because he cared about me. He didn’t need me to make him money or give him money like the band or Kirsten. I got up from the piano and walked back to the bedroom, feeling a lot better. I spotted my kit on the bed and walked over to it. I picked it up, uncovering some colorful pamphlets underneath. I had picked it up to lock in the safe or something so housekeeping didn’t find it, not to shoot up, but what were those? I put the kit down and picked up the one on top of the pile. It was a pamphlet advertising cultural activities and experiences on the island. Oh right, that girl from the desk had brought them up here. Abby. She had been telling me about something. I had sort of blown her off. I had had a rough morning. I looked through the pamphlet, looking at the colorful photographs and skimming through it. What had she told me? Something was happening tonight near the beach. A luau, I think she had said. I put my kit back down and thought about going. I mean, I had no good reason to just stay here. I put a shirt on and got dressed, putting a hoodie on because my addiction meant I couldn’t really do short sleeves anymore. I made my way out of the room and followed signboards down towards the beach where the luau grounds were. I heard the activity and smelled the food before I saw it. The luau grounds were packed with people. There was a food and drink area where people were eating at a buffet, sitting around tables. There were people selling crafts around the perimeter, and there were women dancing on a stage, putting on a performance. My luau memories weren’t too clear from the ones I’d been to as a kid, but I remembered one time seeing a guy pull an entire

pig out of the ground. Right at the entrance, there were a couple girls giving the guests a lei greeting as they walked in. There were a couple people ahead of me. Looking past them, I realized the girls giving out the leis were Abby and her friend from the front desk. When I got to the front of the line, Abby’s friend greeted me, putting a lei over my head. Abby looked over and seemed sort of shocked to see me. “Hi, Abby,” I said to her. “Good evening, Mr. Stone,” she said. I hated when people did that. Mr. Stone was my dad; it made me feel old. “You decided to join us.” “I did,” I said, moving out of the way so other people could go past me. She looked really nice. Her hair was long and curled. She had a red flower in it and a lei around her neck. She had shorts on and a t-shirt with the hotel’s logo on it. “We’re glad to have you. You missed the imu ceremony, but the performances have just started,” she said with a smile. I nodded and thanked her, walking into the party. I felt almost all the way relaxed. I hadn’t shot up for hours; I probably should have before I came. How fucking pathetic would it have been to leave just so I could get a fix, though? A drink would have to cut it. I walked over to the bar where I spotted Keno. “Nate,” he said, smiling when he saw me. “Hey.” “I didn’t think you’d show up.” I laughed a little. Great, I already had a reputation. “I always find the alcohol,” I said. I asked him whether he’d give me a vodka soda since I didn’t like fruity cocktails. “Tonight, your drink comes with entertainment,” he said.

A bunch of young girls were doing a dance with poi balls while a band performed behind them. It was good being the one in the audience for a change. I thanked Keno for the drink and fixed myself a plate at the buffet before sitting. The large tables sat groups of people together, but I managed to get one that was still empty. I tried to eat, but wasn’t that hungry. I tried to concentrate on the performers, but the music just turned to a meaningless droning sound. I started feeling uncomfortable. What was the use of coming here if I couldn’t even stay present? I felt myself start to get sweaty. I downed the rest of my drink and managed to sit five more minutes before I had to leave. It was bad enough jonesing so hard I couldn’t sit still; I didn’t have to do it in front of fifty strangers. If I was alone and could concentrate, I could will myself not to need the drugs. I left the luau and headed towards the beach. The water looked black. The tide was out, so the waves breaking on the shore were small and gentle. I had looked at the ocean a lot from my room. The moon was up now, casting light on the dark water. It looked really deep and still and calm. Why hadn’t I spent more time here since I’d come? I thought for a minute about going in but realized how much of my clothing I’d have to take off to do it. There was always tomorrow, right? I was here until the end of the summer. Yep. Then I was going back home where… I didn’t know what would happen. I felt like I didn’t know anything. I might have had control of the wheel at some point, but I’d crashed and burned a while ago. My addiction, Kirsten, the stuff with the band — it was just gasoline on the flame, making it bigger. I swear to God I hadn’t meant it to get this out of control. Did it even matter what I had wanted in the beginning? I was here now. Sitting alone at a party on the beach. Why’d I even come out of my room tonight? “Nate?” I heard behind me. Great. Now I was hallucinating. “Nate?” I heard it again.

It sounded like a girl. I looked behind me and saw Abby walking down the beach towards me. She was barefoot. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Yeah, it’s fine. Great luau.” “Can you tell from all the way over here?” she asked gently. She had a point. No, I couldn’t tell from all the way over here. I was looking out into the black ocean wondering how far I’d have to walk to be able to drown myself. “You got me,” I sighed. “I’m sorry I suggested this. Maybe something a little less social next time?” she suggested. Was she still trying to get me to discover the magic of Hawai’i? She was determined to make me have a good time, whether I wanted it or not. I felt sorry for her. She had the most reluctant hotel guest in history to try to entertain. “It’s not your fault; you’re just doing your job,” I said. “You can leave if you want. You showed up, and that was the whole point. If you’d rather be somewhere else, that’s perfectly fine.” “Who said I wanted to leave?” I looked past her back at the luau. Something was happening on stage; I was a little too far to see. Going back to my suite sounded pretty good, but since I was here already, why not make something out of the effort? Any other day, I would have told her to fuck off, but I was getting too close to using a needle on myself to turn away valuable distractions. “Do you have to go back?” I asked. “Not right now.” “Good. Sit.”

Chapter Eight Abby He had asked me not to call him Mr. Stone. He had started at the bar, but then he’d spent the rest of his time alone. He had had some food and watched the performances, but then he’d just stood and walked towards the ocean on his own. I felt a little crazy, like a stalker fangirl watching him like that, but he had actually come. I’d invited him to come, and he had — and now he was having a terrible time. I couldn’t just leave him like that. Maybe if I hadn’t gone up there to talk to him, he would be having a better time alone. I told Makani I would be right back and went over to him. I felt responsible for this. Besides, the guests having a good time was my problem. I searched his face looking back at me. There was some light from the luau, but it was too dark to see whether he looked as tired as he had been earlier in the day. He wanted me to sit? With him? I glanced back at the luau. I had said I would be a little bit. Maybe he wanted someone to talk to. The girl in me who had been a fan of his music was nervous as hell about what he’d just asked me to do. The girl whose job it was to make sure he was okay walked over calmly and sat next to him in the sand. “People like me make your job pretty hard, huh?” he asked, looking at me. “People who refuse to have a good time?” I said playfully. He laughed a little. “Sorry. I’ve just been out of it lately. I came here to get away. If I wanted to hole up in my room watching bad movies, I should have stayed in LA.” “It’s not too late. You still have the rest of the summer.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow, I might even leave the suite without you having to come up and make me.” “We were just worried you might have died up there. That would be terrible for our numbers,” I joked, scared suddenly that was too dark. He laughed. “Another thing I wouldn’t have had to leave LA to do,” he sighed. “Will hanging out here make me as chipper as you?” “You’re on a paradise island at a world-class resort. What else would you need?” I asked, ribbing him a little. I wanted to get another laugh out of him. “I know. I’m so ungrateful,” he said dramatically. Who was this guy, and where had he been all this time? Maybe he was having a better time than I thought he had been, after all. “Thanks for the pamphlets, by the way. You’re right. I need to get out more.” “Yeah. The beach is a lot more fun during the day,” I said. He smiled and looked out over the water. A comfortable silence fell between us. I was glad it seemed all he needed was someone to talk to. I still didn’t really know what had been eating at him, but at least he was loosening up. I glanced over at him. He seemed a little fidgety, like he wasn’t comfortable. We hadn’t been sitting that long, but there was a chance he wanted to maybe get off the sand. “Hey, is everything okay?” I asked him. “I’m fine,” he said. “Can I get you anything? I can run up to the bar if you want a water or anything like that.” “I’m just a little under the weather. I should be fine in the morning,” he said. Under the weather? Well, that could mean anything. Was there a bug going around?

Was he coming down with something? Was it a stomach thing? Like something he had eaten didn’t agree with him? I didn’t want to try call him on anything, but the days and days of isolation, then him finally coming outside and still not being able to sit and enjoy the luau seemed suspect. I had a feeling he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. Something was bothering him. I thought about mentioning it, but he had finally agreed to come out of his room and do something. It was something. I couldn’t knock him for trying. Whatever it was, it was probably bad, but I didn’t want to pry. “You can call the front desk if it gets worse,” I said instead. “We can contact a doctor if you’re ill.” “Thanks,” he said, smiling at me. I smiled back. What was going on with him? All the stuff with his band was public knowledge. His leaving had been big news. It was none of my business, but I’d seen the turnaround he’d had just after the conversation we had just had. If he talked about it, whatever it was, he’d most likely feel better. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked suddenly. “What?” “On your neck. What happened?” I clammed up. I never really thought about my scar. It had faded quite a bit since the actual wound, and a lot of the time, people weren’t brazen enough to ask questions that personal. When they did ask me, I had a story ready, one that made sense and which threw them off my scent. I just hadn’t been expecting Nate to say anything, especially since we had only just had a real conversation. “Oh, this,” I said, rubbing the mark a few inches below my jaw. “Surfing accident. Happened years ago.”

“Looks like it must have hurt.” “It looks worse than it was,” I said, trying to pass it off. I had told the lie enough times that it came naturally to me. I wasn’t proud of that, but I told it out of necessity. Only Makani knew the real reason I had that scar on my neck. When I tried to tell actual surfers that that was how I had gotten it, they had a lot more questions since they knew the ways you could get hurt surfing. It would have had to be a pretty unique surfing accident if it left me with a scar on my neck that looked suspiciously like one I would have gotten from an edged blade. I was good at deflecting, but I was sure a lot of people didn’t actually believe me. “Did you get back on your board after that?” he asked. “If I didn’t, how would I have ever become a good enough surfer to make sure I never had another accident again?” I asked, looking over at him. He was leaning back on his arms. I could see his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths and his eyes were shut. Sweat had broken out over his forehead. The muscle in his jaw was working like he was grinding his teeth. “Nate, are you feeling all right?” I asked, concerned. Something was definitely not right. “I’m gonna turn in,” he said, getting up slowly, like his body hurt. I got to my feet. “Great party, by the way. I mean it. Thanks for inviting me.” He turned and walked away before I could say anything to him. I watched him go because if he had been walking any faster, it would have been a full run. I watched him disappear into the luau before I lost sight of him. I left the water’s edge, thinking I’d follow him, but realized I was still on the clock. I scanned the luau for Makani, spotting her chatting with a guest. I walked up to them and

waited while she finished up. “Where were you?” she asked. “I was just down by the water. Nate was sitting there, and I went to talk to him.” “He was on the beach?” “Yes, and now he’s left. I think he might be sick.” “Whoa. Start again. Slow down,” she said slowly, giving me a chance to say what I meant clearly instead of raving. “He seemed all right when he arrived at the luau, but then I saw him go down to the edge of the water and just sit there on his own. I felt guilty that he might not be having a good time, so I went over there. We talked for a few minutes, but then he started acting weird.” “Weird how?” “Fidgety. He started sweating and sounded out of breath. I think he might be ill or something. When I asked him, he said he was fine and just left, practically running away from me.” “I wouldn’t be that worried. If he came in the first place, then I wouldn’t say he’s that bad. Maybe he just wanted to lie down.” “Who just wanted to lie down?” Joseph’s sharp voice asked cutting into our conversation. Makani looked at me to tell him. “Nate. Mr. Stone. The guy in the Hulopoe suite,” I explained. “He left the luau saying he felt a little ill.” “Where is he now?” he asked. “He went back to his suite,” I said, glad he was stepping in.

“Go check on him. Make sure he’s okay.” What? Go check on him? That would have been what I had done as Abby the person, not Abby the employee. Wasn’t that a little weird? Nate was an important guest, but this sounded a little like an invasion of privacy. “Okay, I can do that,” I said, keeping my concerns to myself, figuring he knew what he was doing. “Take some meds up to him. He might need something,” Joseph instructed. Nurse Abby, reporting for duty. I told Makani I’d be back and went back to the main building. Wouldn’t it be better to call a doctor? I thought. Maybe it wasn’t anything serious. I’d go and check on him first so we didn’t end up calling one for nothing. What did I need? I went into the staff changing room and hunted for the first aid kit. There wasn’t much to choose from in there. Antacids, antihistamines, painkillers, Pepto, and cough medicine. I frowned. I’d just carry the whole thing. I got nervous going up to his suite. It was probably nothing. He had made it all the way up himself. Maybe it was food poisoning or something. I got to the door and took a deep breath. I raised my arm to knock, but noticed it wasn’t closed. It was ajar like he’d walked in without realizing he’d left it open. Go inside, I thought. No. I couldn’t do that. That was so unprofessional. This wasn’t a supermarket, I couldn’t just walk in. I knocked the door gently so it didn’t swing open. I waited before trying again, a little harder. Still nothing. Was he asleep? Was he even in there? Okay. I had knocked, so I wasn’t just barging into a guest’s room uninvited. I pushed to door open slowly. “Hello? Nate?” I called. He wasn’t in the living area. I checked the bathroom before finally deciding to check the bedroom. The door was wide open, so I walked in. The sliding double door to the terrace was wide open. I thought about going to close it before the sight of Nate stopped me cold. I dropped the first aid kit, causing it to pop open and

everything to spill over the floor. My hand went over my mouth, and my mind went blank. Nate was on the couch near his bed. He slumped over one side like he was asleep. The hoodie he had been wearing was on the floor. One of his arms was tucked under him and the other was hanging loosely off the side of the couch. The skin of his arm was pockmarked red with inflamed scars and stuck in his arm, precariously hanging, was a syringe. Oh, my God. Nate. I walked over to him, petrified that he wasn’t sleeping and something worse had happened. I was shaking as I stood over him. I watched his body, finally seeing the slight rise and fall of his chest, breathing in and out. I didn’t know what I was looking at. All I knew was that I wanted to get out of there. I rushed back to the floor, haphazardly reassembling the first aid kit. What had I just seen? I tried to forget the worst part of the image. I thought I knew so much about him. I knew he liked to drink and that he was a troublemaker, but this? I let myself out and closed his door for him. Nobody else needed to see that.

Chapter Nine Nate I was awake a little while before I got up. I opened my eyes and squinted because of how bright it was. I raised my head and looked around. I’d fallen asleep on the couch. I didn’t have a headache, which was good — I wasn’t hung-over. I didn’t feel dope sick, either. I sat up, hearing something falling on the floor. It was a needle. Right. I’d bailed on Abby’s luau to come here and shoot up. I picked the needle up and checked my arm. No pain, no swelling. I hadn’t botched it. I tossed it in the trash as I hunted for my phone to figure out what time it was. It was on the bed. Noon, as usual, it seemed. That was just when I seemed to get up no matter how early I’d passed out the night before. Speaking of that night before, it had almost gone well. It probably would have been more fun if I’d shot up before I went, but still, I could think of at least a hundred ways it could have been worse. I drank some water and got under the shower feeling strangely good, good compared to the way I usually felt, at least, which was horrible. I got out and got dressed, searching for where I’d left the in-room dining menu. It was lunchtime, right? Why didn’t I just go out and eat? I ate in my room all the time. It was getting charged to the room either way. I had like five different restaurants to choose from; it might even be fun. I walked out of the room and went down to the lobby. I knew I could go down to the bar to see Keno, but I was hungry. Maybe later.

I spotted Abby and Makani behind their desk. They were talking. Abby’s hair was down the way it had been the night before. She was smiling at whatever her friend was telling her. She glanced in my direction and stopped talking. She looked at me again, doing a double take like she’d just seen a ghost. Her friend looked over, too. I nodded at them and kept walking. Maybe she was surprised I’d left my room? I couldn’t think why. She had been the one who’d suggested it in the first place. After some searching, I found a restaurant with a lunch buffet going. I loaded my plate up with more food than I knew I’d be able to finish before finding a place to sit. A waiter came and took my drink order. I thought about getting a beer, but I was having such a good day, I asked for water. I dug in. The food was good. A lot of things were good. I wasn’t feeling sick, I wasn’t stressed, and I’d left my room for the second time without being recognized by anybody. I didn’t want to jinx it, but who knew all it would take to turn my shit around was getting out of my own head. I wasn’t dumb enough to think it would last, but I also wasn’t going to waste it just waiting for the ball to drop. I heard the sound of a chair scraping the ground in front of me and looked up. It was Abby. She was sitting across from me with a look on her face like she was upset. I didn’t know what to say for a second, so I just looked at her. “Hungry?” I asked. “No,” she said shortly. “I see you got to your room last night.” “I did. Listen, if you’re gonna sit there, I’m gonna have to ask you to grab a plate because it’s awkward being the only one eating.” “How are you even talking like that after last night?” I looked at her. She sounded way too much like Kirsten, accusing me of something I had done wrong.

“What happened last night?” “You don’t-” she leaned in like she was going to tell me a secret. “You sure you don’t remember?” I shrugged. Was she upset about the way I’d left her on the beach? It had been an emergency. I had thought I could make it through the night, and I got pretty fucking far, but in the end, couldn’t do it. I wasn’t proud of it, but why was she mad about that? I had told her not to worry about it. “Nope. Nothing.” “I saw you last night.” “I remember. I saw you, too. You invited me to the luau.” “Not there. In your suite, on the couch with a…with that thing sticking in your arm,” she said. My jaw dropped. She’d followed me to my room? She’d been in there while I was sleeping? “Who let you in my room?” “The door was open; you didn’t even make sure it was closed before you…did that to yourself.” “I don’t know what you think you saw, Abby, but it was in my private suite that I’m paying a lot of money for. It’s none of your business.” “I was there because I was sent to check on you. You weren’t well. You were acting weird, and we were worried.” “You have nothing to worry about because nothing is wrong. Just forget whatever you think you saw.” “You’re going to sit there and tell me nothing was wrong when I found you passed out

in your room with a needle in your arm?” she asked sharply. “A little louder, Abby, I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you,” I snapped sarcastically. She sat back. “I haven’t told anyone. Am I the only person who knows?” “You don’t know anything, okay? You came in my room without permission. You weren’t even supposed to be there.” “Why would you do something like that? What’s happening that’s so awful that you have to use drugs?” she asked. She whispered the last two words like they were swear words. “I have nothing else to say to you. Nothing happened. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m fine. I want to eat my fucking lunch and go back to my suite in peace.” “No. You aren’t going back to your suite to spend the rest of the day alone.” I narrowed my eyes at her. What now? She’d started mad, and now she just wasn’t making sense anymore. “Why? Because I’m on an island paradise in a world-star resort?” I asked, using her words from the night before. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to face this alone. I want to help you.” “Help me do what? I haven’t asked you to do anything but leave me alone and forget what you saw.” “Help you see that it’s worth it. You’ve been in your suite all this time, and the island’s bigger than that. Your life is bigger than that.” “Oh, I don’t appreciate my life? Thanks, Dr. Drew. I didn’t know this was an intervention,” I said sarcastically. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know what I saw, and I know that whatever you’re going through must be extremely difficult. No matter what it is.” “No. Stop it. It’s nice that you want to help, but I didn’t fucking ask you to. Whatever happens when I am in my suite alone is none of your business. Don’t come in my room again.” I stood up, taking my plate with me. I walked away, not bothering to see whether she had followed me or not. That bitch. She wanted to teach me that my life was worth living? My thoughts were swirling around my head. What I needed her to do was stand at that front desk and leave me the fuck alone. Why did she think she had the right to come up to me and say that shit? She went straight to the point, making assumptions nobody asked her to make. Part of me was mad that she had said anything at all, but another part was mad about how right she was. A couple of the other guys in Remus knew about the dope, but they never told me anything. She had been nosy and annoying, but she wasn’t wrong — and I didn’t know whether I was sort of pleased about that or not. When you have something people want, they get close to you, but not because they want to be your friends. They’re leeches who want to suck you dry or enablers who don’t care whether you run yourself into the ground because it’s not their problem. Nobody had ever called me on my bullshit like that, and even if I wish she hadn’t, it was sort of nice that she gave enough of a fuck to say something. I was shelling out thousands of dollars a night to stay here, and their only job was to give me whatever I wanted. She didn’t have to care that I was an addict. She didn’t just care; she sounded almost sad that I was doing that to myself. I got into the elevator and waited to go up to my suite. She was walking through the lobby back to the desk as the doors were closing. She was running a hand through her hair and looked mad.

Apologize to her, I thought suddenly. No, you told her to fuck off; why would you go back over there to talk to her again? The doors closed and stopped me before I did anything stupid. I got to my room and left my plate on the table, not really that hungry anymore. I felt restless. I wanted to do something because I knew what happened when I got like this. It would start. It’d start bubbling up until it was too much and I’d use again. Television wouldn’t work. I didn’t want to go on the internet. I paced around, suddenly remembering the piano. Yeah. That would do it. It would keep my hands busy. I sat at the piano and touched the keys, waiting to hear something. The stuff I had composed for Remus wasn’t even half of the work I had accumulated since I had started writing music. I had more music than I knew what to do with. When it came out of me, I had to put it somewhere. Sometime must have passed before I stopped, realizing something. My hands weren’t shaking. I wasn’t sweating. I felt fine. I had been fine all day, but right then, I was calm. Sitting there at the piano, I felt like everything was okay. I had been so heated after what had happened with Abby; that was the sort of thing that would have sent me right off the edge, using again, but I hadn’t. This weird urge came over me to say something to her. To tell her that I had found something. One of those things she said she wanted to show me that would make me want to stop using. I got to the phone and dialed the number for the front desk. “Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Four Seasons Lanai, you’re speaking to Abby. How may I help you?” she asked me. I slammed the phone back into the receiver. What the hell was I doing? She didn’t care; hadn’t I told her to fuck off and leave me alone? Fuck, make up your mind, I

thought. Either you’re doing this shit alone, or you’re taking her up on her offer. I remembered her face after I had left her, like she was hurt. There was no way her offer still stood. Nobody was that nice.

Chapter Ten Abby “So if you’re in school online, do you sit in on classes over Skype or something?” “No, I get the material, sources, and outline, and I can just study at my own pace,” I said. Makani was laying on her stomach on a towel beside me on the beach outside my house. The sun was warm, and the beach hadn’t kicked up to full activity yet. Her bikini was white, which looked fantastic against her dark skin. Lying out in the sun was super touristy, but it was fun. The beach was amazing; why should they get to have all the fun? There were beaches in Texas, but I’d seen a lot more desert than beach when I’d lived there. Makani had gotten here a couple hours ago, and we still hadn’t gone on that run we had said we’d go on. It was about ten, and we’d accepted that it wasn’t going to happen anymore. We had a day off. We didn’t have many, but the ones we did have, we tended to spend together even though we worked together. “So does it take longer for you to graduate than someone who goes to class every day?” she asked. I adjusted my sunglasses on my face, turning my head to look at her. “It can, but it depends on the way I spend my time. I could draw it out if I wanted, but I don’t need to.” I was getting my business administration degree online. My university didn’t have a Lanai campus, and I wasn’t prepared to move to be able to attend in person. Online classes

were a cheaper, better option for me that still let me work and support myself while getting an education. “When are you graduating?” “Next year or the one after that; it depends. You thinking about starting?” “No,” she sighed. “You can do the college thing. I’m good right here,” she said smiling. She had been making her own money for a long time. The option to go back to school was always there if she wanted it, but she didn’t right now. It was something we didn’t have in common, but it wasn’t a big deal. She was working, had her own place, and a life she enjoyed, so school wouldn’t give her anything she didn’t have already. Well, unless you were talking about her physically attending somewhere, putting her around a lot of other people her age, which she hadn’t really had for a while since she had been working so long already. A lot of men around her age, specifically. She was gorgeous, and there was no lack of male attention wherever we went together, but she turned down every last one of them, as much as she teased me for having never been with anyone. After Keno, she sort of closed shop, which was a tragedy for the men of the island. And for her, even though she didn’t want to admit it. Keno was a nice guy. I liked them together. I never really felt like a third wheel with them. It had taken her a while to finally tell me what had happened between them, but it was just one of those things where they hadn’t wanted the same thing so instead of staying, she’d left. I hoped she’d open herself up to a relationship again soon. She was good at hiding it, but she had been lonely. I would have been, too, if I had been with someone for over a year.

“Are we going to lose you after you get your fancy degree?” she asked. “No,” I scoffed. “I’m not going anywhere.” They could try to get rid of me, but it wouldn’t work. I’d dug in roots here. This was home. Leaving after I had earned my degree had crossed my mind a couple times. I had thought about leaving a lot since I had landed here, but the thoughts had come to me less and less as the years had passed. When I’d arrived here, I had been a traumatized kid, freshly eighteen. Even though I had had nothing to go back to in Texas, I had still wanted to go back. The move, especially after the trial and the circus that had followed, had been too much for me. I had been upset. Even though it had been for my own good at the time, I had still had trouble adjusting. Now, I couldn’t imagine not living on Lanai. My life here was all mine. I’d built it for myself, by myself. I’d found myself a family, a home, and it was here that I saw in my future and not anywhere else. “Uh-oh, incoming,” Makani said. “Where?” “Your right.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw who she was talking about. Two guys. I didn’t recognize them as guests at the Four Seasons, but they were clearly tourists. They were in swim trunks and sunglasses and were walking right up to us. I rolled my eyes. “Should I do it, or will you?” she asked. One of the guys had bleached hair, and the other had a crew cut. They looked close to our age, which was better than the guys we got hitting on us a lot of the time. They were actually pretty cute, I realized as they stopped in front of us.

“Morning, ladies,” the blond one said brightly. Australians, I thought. “Hi,” Makani said, rolling onto her back, “You guys looking for something?” “We’re on the island for a few days, and we were wondering whether you knew any good places we could hang out. You’re locals, right?” crew cut asked. “If you want to know where you can score some weed, you’re on the wrong beach,” I told them. Makani giggled. The guys laughed, too. “Oh no, that’s the first thing we looked for when we got here,” the blond said. I’d let him think he was funny. I smiled sarcastically. “Looks like you’re set for a good time, then,” I said. “Almost. You guys live around here?” “We do. If you guys are looking for dates, you’re on the wrong beach for that, too,” I said. They laughed a little, looking uncomfortable. “That’s too bad. We thought we’d have a little fun, since this is supposed to be Hawai’i’s most enticing island,” the blond said. “Where can we find you later?” “Not here. We’re not interested,” I said with a sweet smile. “What about you?” he asked Makani. “Oh, she just told you. We’re not interested. By the way, about your problem, your hotel concierge should be able to tell you where to visit.” “Let me take your number, so I can call you later if you change your minds,” he said. “Nope, we’re good,” I said lightly. The guy looked stunned. This had probably worked for him before. It was probably worse on the bigger islands, but we got our creeps, too. “Why, are you married or something?” he blurted out.

“Because even if I gave you my number, you wouldn’t know what to call me,” I said. Makani laughed. The one with the crew cut whispered something to his friend, and they awkwardly said they were going to check out more of the beach. We watched them leaving. “Poor guys. That blond one really liked you,” Makani said. “He’ll survive,” I said, resting my head back down on my towel. “Would you? You know, with a tourist?” she asked. “Tourists leave. I don’t want to be anyone’s two-week summer fling before they go back home.” “I don’t know. That guy looked about ready to emigrate for you,” she joked. I pulled a face, making her laugh. “Hard pass,” I said. “My God, Abby. You’ll never have a relationship with standards that high,” she said. I shrugged, laughing. “I’ll always have you,” I said. “You know what I mean. By the way, whatever happened to that singer guy you like?” I froze. Nate. I had been trying not to think about the last conversation we had and what I had seen in his suite. Him passed out with a needle in his arm. I’d never be able to forget that. It gave me chills just thinking about it. I hadn’t told Makani anything. In fact, I hadn’t brought him up at all. It was none of my business after all, right? That’s what he had said. He didn’t want any help. I hadn’t seen him since in the lobby or anywhere else for that matter. He hadn’t called the front desk. I was going to take that to mean he was fine.

Either that, or he had been in a coma for four days and nobody had discovered his unconscious body yet. I shrugged. “Haven’t really seen him. Are you hungry?” I asked, changing the subject. She wasn’t. The sun was getting higher, and the beach was getting a little crowded, though, so we ended up going inside after a little while. We stayed in until lunch, deciding to go eat somewhere in the city. We had the whole day in front of us. We ended up shopping in the city before stopping at a bar for drinks. Because of all the tourists we got, we had an interesting mix of higher and lower end spots, some obviously meant for tourists with predictably inflated prices and others obviously meant for locals. It was like two different worlds. Sort of like the island: the old plantation buildings and historical sites sharing space with places like the Four Seasons, ultramodern and new. The sun had gone down by the time we were done, and Makani dropped me off before driving herself home. I had a quick shower and got into a long t-shirt to go to sleep. I wasn’t that tired, but there was nothing I really wanted to do that night that was going to keep me awake. Since we’d been busy the whole day, I had managed pretty well not to think about what she had said earlier when the guys on the beach had tried to pick us up. It came up so often that it didn’t usually bother me, but sometimes I wondered how long it would take. I knew I was the only thing holding myself back, and I knew that I wasn’t going to be like this forever. I didn’t know when I could stop feeling guarded. These days, months, years weren’t being wasted. I needed time to feel comfortable taking that sort of risk again, but I couldn’t help thinking that the days months and years that I was using now were years that I was losing in the future with someone who I would have a relationship with.

I was in no shape for a relationship. I had accepted that. That didn’t mean I didn’t think about what it might be like. That I didn’t want it. I wasn’t ready now. I just hoped that one day, sooner rather than later, I would be.

Chapter Eleven Nate I lay back on the couch, listening to the dial tone for the front desk to answer. I had a bone to pick with Abby. The girl had told me all day, every day; those were the hours I was allowed to come looking for her. Just come by the front desk and ask for Abby, she had said. Just holler if you need anything. She’d come inside my suite without permission. She’d gone out of her way more than once to come look for me. The one fucking time I walk my ass all the way to the front desk because I actually want to talk to her, and she’s not working? Flakiness. I wasn’t paying an arm and a leg at this fucking place so I could be ignored by the people who were there to help me. Besides, what if it had been an emergency? I don’t know, like, I really needed someone with knowledge of the hotel and island to tell me where to go, somewhere real, not a tourist trap. The point was she had said she’d be there, and she hadn’t been. Yesterday had almost been a good day. I had gotten up while it was still morning and had felt for the first time that I was ready to do something. I had gone to the front desk and guess who I didn’t see? When I’d asked for her, the girl who was there instead told me that it was Abby’s day off, and that she would be able to take care of whatever I wanted since Abby wasn’t there. I’d spent the day alone in my suite, and it was her fault. “Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Four Seasons Lanai; you’re speaking to Abby. How may I help you?” she finally said, picking the phone up.

“Where the fuck were you yesterday?” I asked. She was quiet for a second. “Mr. Stone?” “I told you not to call me that. Why weren’t you at your desk yesterday?” “I had a day off yesterday,” she said. “Didn’t you say I could ask for you whenever I wanted? What the hell?” “The front desk was still staffed. I’m sure you didn’t come down here and find an empty desk.” “That’s not the point; I was looking for you,” I said. “I can’t imagine what I could have helped you with that another member of staff wouldn’t have been able to,” she said. “There isn’t a question you could have asked that Stephanie wouldn’t have been able to answer for you.” Stephanie. That girl I’d met at the desk the day before who had told me that she wouldn’t contact Abby for me because it was her day off. All day every day. She had said all day every day. “You told me I’d always be able to find you.” “Was it really that serious, Mr. Stone? Because I know I remember you telling me to mind my own business and leave you alone.” I shut my eyes, sighing. She was still mad at what I had said to her. “And because of that, you’re gonna stop doing your job? Aren’t you supposed to give me things when I ask for them? I’m the guest here. I want to do something today.” I heard her huff angrily. “The island adventure center is located on the third floor. Whether you want to explore by air, land, or sea, we have something for everyone,” she said, like she was

reading it off a prompter. “No. I know all that shit, you gave me the pamphlets. I want you to take me somewhere.” “Tell me what time you will be ready to leave, sir. One of our hotel drivers will take you anywhere on Lanai.” “You, Abby. I want you to take me.” “This hotel is nearly at capacity; you are not the only guest. I can’t leave work to take you into the city — especially when there are drivers whose job it is to do exactly that.” “Whoa. Guess all those five-star ratings raving about the service in this place were bullshit. The staff is cold, and the girl at the front desk doesn’t give a fuck,” I said. I heard her sigh. She was getting frustrated. All she had to do was cut the crap and just take me where I wanted to go. If she wanted to fight, then we could do it there. “Mr. Stone, I really- Please hold for a moment,” she said. The sound became muffled, and I heard her talking to someone else. It was a man’s voice. I couldn’t really make out a lot of the words, but I heard the important ones. Something about it was her job to make sure I was happy — exactly what I had told her. She came back on the line. “Since you’ve made a special request, we can accommodate you today,” she said stiffly. “What? Are you going to get in trouble if you don’t take me?” I asked, smirking. “Please come to the front desk when you are ready. All the arrangements will have been made. Thank you,” she said, ignoring me. She hung up. I smiled. Ha. Got her.

I grabbed my wallet and phone and left my suite for the lobby. When I got there, she was standing, talking to her friend. Her back was to me. Her friend saw me first and seemed to tell her because she turned to look at me. They waited till I was right at the desk. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stone,” her friend said, smiling. “You and Abby can leave as soon as you’re ready,” she said. I could feel Abby shooting daggers at me from beside her. She was so mad. “I’m ready now; let’s go.” Abby said goodbye to her friend and came around the desk. I wondered how much her friend knew. They always seemed to be together; what had Abby told her, if anything? “Come this way,” Abby said, walking towards the exit. Her voice was strained, like being polite to me was the last thing she wanted to do. I’d never had someone so upset about spending time with me. She wasn’t even going to suck it up and pretend. She was letting me have it. A lot of people tended to kiss my ass because they were scared of me. I liked that she wasn’t. I’d have been upset about it if it wasn’t so cute. “Was there something important behind that desk you had to do today?” I asked. “You mean my job?” “I don’t know why you’re so upset. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” I teased. “To spend the day babysitting you? What fun,” she said sarcastically. I chuckled. This was great. I hated when people would just roll over on me. I never pulled punches; I didn’t expect people to do it for me. She was giving me hell, and it was great. We got to the parked car, and she went around to the driver’s seat. “You like taking days off, so here’s another for you.”

She looked at me from across the car, shocked. “Your inability to have a good time in a place like this is only a limit of your own imagination, Nate,” she said. “The ocean stays salty with or without me.” “And you still have to cater to me, whether you want to or not,” I said back. She huffed and got in the car. I got in after her. I watched her adjust her seat and the mirrors and put her belt on, obviously doing her best not to look over at me. I didn’t want to push her buttons so hard that she snapped. She had been worried about what she’d seen when she’d come into my room — me passed out and stuff — but she’d been upset, too. She had almost been offended by the fact that I used. Like she couldn’t believe I did that shit. Not only that, she had tried to get me to let her help me. She cared. She was a stranger, and I wasn’t her problem. I could die tomorrow, and it wouldn’t make her coffee any sweeter, but she still tried to help. I learned pretty fast after Remus had been signed that unless people could get something out of you, they didn’t give a fuck. You were only as good as what you could offer them, and if you stopped being useful, they had a replacement waiting in the wings. I’d been living in LA too long. How sad was it that I was surprised by human decency? I thought. We had been driving for about five minutes. The resort was already behind us. I didn’t know anything about this place, so I had no idea where she was taking me. She had not said a word since the trip had begun. I looked at the side of her face. She was pretty from that angle, too. Her hair was down again, falling in waves over her chest. It looked like it would be really soft if you touched it.

“Where are we going?” I asked. “Are you worried? Do you have any illegal substances in here that I should worry about being found with?” she asked. That was funny. She wasn’t going to give me a break, was she? “No,” I laughed. “If I did, I’d take the fall myself. I wouldn’t let you get into trouble.” “Why do you-” she cut herself off. “How?” she asked simply, taking her eyes off the road for a second to look at me. What a good question. I asked myself how the fuck I ended up like this sometimes, too. “You don’t have to talk to me, you just have to take me somewhere,” I said, halfheartedly trying to discourage her. “I just don’t understand,” she said. “You were right about it being none of my business, and I don’t want to act like I know anything about who you are and your life, but… What happened?” “I used to be in a band, one that you’ve probably never heard of,” I added so she didn’t ask and find out which one. “While on tour, I got pulled into using, and as badly as I want to stop, it’s an addiction.” “You’re trying to beat it?” “It’s a lot easier said than done. I mean, you saw.” She was quiet after that, but a better quiet than before. It wasn’t the calm before the storm anymore, she was just, I don’t know, processing what I had told her. I’m able to tell her a lot more easily than I had thought I would have been able to, I thought. She’d already seen me with the needle in my arm anyway, so lying to her now would have just insulted her. “I can’t imagine how difficult that is for you,” she said.

“Well, it’s not fun,” I said. I had been passed out when she’d seen me, so I didn’t know how much she had seen. She had seen my arm, though, if she had seen the needle. I’d been good about keeping my shit clean, which isn’t something to be proud of, but I was a fucking junkie — the standards were low. I’d never gotten infected, or accidentally hit an artery. I’d missed a few times and shot into the muscle, but as far as junkies went, I’d say I was doing okay. My arm looked like I’d taken the butt end of a cigar to it, but I didn’t think she’d seen anything she’d have nightmares about later. Despite that, I kind of wanted to apologize to her for what she had had to see. I hadn’t really thought she had come to my room for any reason other than the one she had given me. I had no reason to. I was just being an ass. I heard her take a deep breath next to me. “We have about a twenty minutes’ drive to go,” she said. “What?” “Twenty minutes,” she repeated, looking over at me. “We’re going to Keahiakawelo. The Garden of the Gods.” Right, I had asked her where she was taking me. She wanted to tell me that? She didn’t feel like talking about it more, what she saw and my addiction…that stuff. She wasn’t going to tell me about an uncle she had who could be my sponsor in NA or whatever. I never brought my drug use up, but I sort of wanted to talk about it now, with her. I’d probably made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t really polite conversation. “What’s that?” I asked her, instead of getting back into it. “You’ll see,” she said, smirking. “The road near the place isn’t paved at all, so it’s going to get bumpy,” she warned. “You’re not telling me?” I asked. “If you took the time to look at those pamphlets I left you with, you’d already know,”

she said. I laughed. I wasn’t going to hear the end of that. The road became bumpy, just like she’d warned. We passed miles and miles of nothing. No developments or properties. A section of the road was surrounded by trees, but they started thinning until there was hardly any plants at all. Just rocks. She started slowing down as the road basically disappeared. I looked outside the window. “What the fuck,” I whispered. It looked like the surface of Mars or something. She parked the car, and we got out. There were rocks everywhere, in stacks and towers, spread out like someone had put them there. “Come on,” she said, walking past me. I followed her. “What is this place?” “Keahiakawelo. The Garden of the Gods. It’s a natural rock garden,” she explained. “Natural? So it just looks like that by itself?” I asked. She smiled. “That depends on who you ask,” she said. She started walking down a slope between these large, stacked boulders. I followed her. “Today, we know that it was natural forces that made it look like this. Wind. Water. Centuries of erosion without human activity. It’s red like that because of the volcanic rock and clay soil.” “Why is it called the Garden of the Gods? Was it a spiritual site or something?” “It’s named after Kawelo, an ancient priest who presided over the island. The legend says he and the priest over on Molokai got into a little contest. They challenged each other to build a fire and keep it burning the longest. It’s bare like this because Kawelo used all the vegetation up for his fire. You should see it at sundown,” she said. “What happens at sundown?”

“If I tell you, you’ll use it as an excuse not to come out again,” she said. Was that an invitation? I didn’t care; I was calling it one. Whether the rocks were like that because of Ancient Hawai’ian gods, or just natural causes didn’t really make a difference to me. It was surprisingly really cool. Not just because I was on the island and needed to see it before I left. It was just cool. It was weirdly, really beautiful. I was no history buff, but from what I’d seen, this place was practically virgin land, just like my driver had said when I’d got here. So much of it was just allowed to be instead of being made into something else. I liked it. It was different from LA in a good way. Even old Los Angeles was still pretty new. The oldest buildings in LA were what, a couple hundred years old, if that? This place had been this way for centuries. We walked around some more, climbing up to some of the higher points so she could point out the bay and Molokai Island in the distance. I took some pictures. I wanted to remember it. Not just how it looked, but how I felt here. It was harsh, and empty and desolate, but it made me feel calm, like it existed independently of the island around it, and if I was here, I was somewhere else. Detached. We got back into the car, driving a little farther before we started heading back to the resort. “Thanks for taking me out today,” I told Abby once we’d gotten past the rocky stretch of road. “You have my manager to thank for getting me out today, not me,” she said glancing over. “I’m glad you liked it.” “I’m sorry about what I said to you. I know you were just trying to help.” “Have you been okay today?” she asked.

“I’ve been good, actually.” “Maybe you should get out more often,” she said. Maybe I would. I was thinking about what she said when I felt a chill. My palms started sweating, and felt clammy. Shit. Not now, I thought. Not when I was so far away from my kit. Why did my body always choose the worst times to get dope sick? I rolled down one of the windows to see whether it would calm me down. I couldn’t get comfortable. My body was going to feel worse and worse till I shot up again. “Nate?” Abby asked. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine. It’s just warm in here,” I said lamely. “Should I turn on the air?” she offered. “No. Just drive,” I said, getting irritated. None of this was her fault, but she was behind the wheel and needed to get me back to my suite right the fuck now. She was quiet after that. We were back at the hotel in about half an hour. It got worse when I could see the building. I was practically crawling out of my own skin. She started parking the car, and I undid my seatbelt, ready to jump out as soon as she stopped. “Nate?” she said. Fuck, what now? “Yeah?” I asked, distracted. “I’d really like to take you to see the island again,” she said. “Right now?” “No. Sunday? If you’re up for it?” she asked hopefully. Was a yes what would get her to leave me alone so I could go shoot up? “Yeah. Sunday sounds great,” I said, opening the door. She might have said

something else, but I didn’t hear her. I didn’t look up again ’til I got to the door of my suite. Everything was harder when I needed a fix. I opened the door and made a beeline for the bed where I had left my kit. I unzipped it, pouring everything out onto the bed. Fuck. What was I doing? Everything was fine before we left. I’d felt great when we were at the Garden of the Gods. I’d felt calm and happy; why couldn’t I just feel that now? Without the drugs. Maybe I would one day, but today was not that day.

Chapter Twelve Abby He’s up there shooting himself up with drugs right now, I thought. Just like during the luau. Was that what the drugs did to you? I wasn’t that familiar with what heroin was supposed to do when you put it inside your body. It was so hard to watch. He was sick. He became ill when he didn’t have it. I waited for someone to come take the car and went back inside the building. It was late afternoon, heading towards evening. It had been a warm day and was still really pleasant. The sun wouldn’t start going down for a couple hours yet. I needed to quickly change back into my clerk uniform before I got back to work. We’d walked around, but the hike wasn’t that difficult. I didn’t need a shower before I did. I got to the desk, seeing Makani sitting there on the phone. I waved, walking around the desk to sit beside her and see whether I’d gotten any messages before I went to the changing room. “Could you please hold?” she asked the person she was talking to. “Joseph asked me to tell you to go see him when you got back,” she whispered to me. “Really?” I sighed. She shrugged apologetically, turning her attention back to the person on the other end of the line. I got up and went into the back towards Joseph’s office. I guessed since he had been the one who had thrown me into taking Nate on the trip, he must want to know how it had turned out. There was no hotel without guests to fill it with, but Joseph either really

liked Nate, or really feared him. An endorsement from someone like Nate Stone would probably be great for the reputation of the resort. I knew Nate’s father was really wealthy and influential; maybe he just wanted to make sure the Stones liked us. I had no problem letting Nate know about all the different stuff he could do on the island. I didn’t even really mind being the one who physically drove him around to do them. Something had happened today. He wasn’t really Nate Stone to me anymore. He was Nate, just Nate who hated being called Mr. Stone. A guy, like any other I had met in my life. One who had a problem that I wanted to help him with. I knocked at the door before going inside. “Abby, what took you so long? Where did you go?” Joseph said. One day, he would greet me like a human being before laying into me, I thought. “We went to Keahiakawelo.” “Did he ask you to take him there?” “He didn’t suggest anywhere. I chose it.” “You didn’t ask him where he wanted to go first?” he asked. “This is his first time on Lanai. Besides the beach, he hasn’t seen the outside of his suite. Keahiakawelo is an important piece of Lanai history and culture.” “Why doesn’t he know where he can visit on the island? You didn’t tell him?” “He wanted to be surprised,” I said, figuring that was what it was. I knew he had the pamphlets with him telling him what he could do here. It wasn’t my fault if he hadn’t read them. “He had a good time.” “He did?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He even said he wanted me to take him somewhere again on Sunday.” “Where?” he asked. I felt like he was my parent, giving me the third degree before he let me go to a party with all my friends. I didn’t know where; I hadn’t thought of anywhere yet. He’d liked Keahiakawelo, so maybe somewhere like that. “I’ll ask him ahead of time so he can pick,” I said, thinking it would be a good way to get Joseph to stop asking me questions. He nodded. “I’m trusting you with this, Abby,” he said. “It’s your job to make sure he has a good time during his stay here. He is a person whose positive recognition would mean a lot of good things for the resort.” “I understand. He’s an important guest. I won’t let you down.” “Did he say anything about the hotel?” he asked hopefully. I shrugged. “He mentioned he liked the suite when he checked in,” I said. “He hasn’t said anything was lacking, so I’d say he was pretty satisfied.” If the presidential suite wasn’t enough for the guy, then I didn’t know what would be. He seemed comfortable. The man barely left his rooms, if that was an indication of how much he liked it. “Whatever he needs, Abby,” Joseph stressed. I nodded smiling. He had to be a little more careful with what he was asking me; this was cutting it a little close for workplace decency. I was answering directly to Joseph when it came to Nate now. A lot was at stake, probably my job if I really messed up. Helping Nate was important to me, too. I’d been so upset about taking him out today that I hadn’t realized what he had agreed to let me do. He was letting me help him. He was letting me take him out of his luxury prison of a suite and see that there were bigger things

than his addiction. That was more important than whether he liked the kind of pillows the hotel used on his bed. It didn’t matter if he thought the hotel was heaven on earth because he was still extremely ill. “Of course. I won’t let you down,” I assured Joseph before he let me leave. I hurried to get changed and put my hair up before returning to the front desk. “What did he want?” Makani asked as I came behind the desk and took my seat. “He was just asking about Nate. He’s worried about whether he’s having a good time.” “I thought he was just a guy in a band. Why does Joseph care so much? Is he a fan, too?” I laughed imagining Joseph a screaming fanboy for Remus. Him enjoying their music wouldn’t have shocked me that much. Their latest album had rocked the charts; they obviously had a huge fan base. “Yes, he is just a guy in a band, but his father is an extremely wealthy, influential man on the mainland. Just think, if he, on the recommendation of his son, came here and loved it, he could base himself here when he comes to Hawaii.” “I guess,” she said thinking about it. “For your sake, I hope this season flies by.” “He isn’t that bad,” I said. “In fact, he’s pretty nice.” “Nice, huh? So you had a good time on your date?” she asked. “It was not a date.” “Of course, it was. He asked for you specifically. He wanted to get you somewhere alone, and he knew that that was the best way.” “He’s an important guest at this hotel, and Joseph needs to make sure he’s well catered for.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, grinning at me. “You love this guy. What happened, was he an ass?” “We’re not talking about Nate anymore,” I said to her, changing the subject. “But if you have to know, we had a good time.” “Did he like Keahiakawelo?” “He thought it was cool. Good call.” “Was it busy?” “Just a few other people,” I said. We had almost been completely alone. I didn’t want to call it a date, though. Makani didn’t know how close she was to hitting the nail on the head. The longer we were there together, the more relaxed and playful Nate had gotten, which had been the exact thing that I had wanted to happen. We weren’t going on dates. Perhaps taking him out on excursions was my job now, but he was still a person who needed help. If I could get him to forget, maybe he’d remember when he wasn’t like that and didn’t need drugs. Nate Stone of Remus fame wasn’t the guy in the Hulopoe suite. He was the guy that this Nate needed to be for his for his job, for the public. I liked him, but he didn’t need another person to like him. He needed someone to help him. I needed to remember that if I was going to be that person. Makani’s commute from her place in the city to the hotel was about fifteen minutes by car, not that bad, but mine was a walk down to the beach for about the same amount of time. She had parked her car by my place that morning when she’d come in so we could walk up together. She was now on my bed, waiting for me to bring the food out. I felt like I hadn’t really had that much time with her since I had been on tour guide duty with Nate.

I had cobbled together a bunch of leftovers into what I hoped was a passable fried rice. I grabbed the two plates and joined her. Since we’d talked about Nate at work already, she hadn’t brought him up again. Not that I needed help not thinking about him, but I wished I could tell her about what I had seen him doing. It wasn’t my truth to tell, so I wasn’t going to, but it wasn’t looking forward to trying to keep the secret. “I had some eggs in the fridge, so I just threw them in there, too,” I said, handing her a plate. “Great. Can I ask you something?” she asked me. “Of course.” I settled on the bed next to her. “Do you think I made a mistake leaving Keno?” “Did something happen?” She sighed, shoveling some food onto her fork and spilling it off. “This is so dumb. I saw him during the day; he had gone into the changing room to get another shirt or something. There was this woman, a guest who stopped him when he came back out. They were talking in the front lobby before they left together to go back to the bar. I know we aren’t together anymore, and he can talk to whoever he wants, but I just thought as more time passed that it would get easier for me. Not worse.” “You still have feelings for him,” I said. “I think I just miss what we had: being with someone. It was nice. Comfortable,” she said, deflecting. “We were together for a long time.” “Are you sure it’s the relationship and not the person you had it with?” “We can’t get back together,” she said dismissively. Was that what she was thinking about? I hadn’t even mentioned it. “I think you’re the only person on the island who thinks that,” I said.

“We broke up for a reason.” “I know you did, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still hurt.” “I just couldn’t do what he was asking me,” she said. “Yes, you could have, Makani,” I said. She looked up at me. “What?” “Yes, you could.” “He was talking marriage, a family. He couldn’t ask me to give my life up to do that with him.” “But he asked you. He wasn’t trying to force you into something you didn’t want,” I said. “He wasn’t chasing you. It wasn’t like a deal breaker for him if you weren’t in the same place as he was.” “Have you talked to him about this?” she asked accusatorily. “No, but both of you still need closure.” “I keep thinking that the next time I see him, I won’t feel overwhelmed and he’ll be just another guy to me,” she said sadly. “Did you ever think about what he asked you?” I asked. “Of course, I thought about it. We talked about it. He would drop hints sometimes that he had been thinking about he and I together for the long term. Married with kids,” she said, her face frowning slightly. “You couldn’t see that, too?” “I could, but I can’t do that, Abby. I’m twenty-two; he’s had longer to think about this than I have. He’s had longer to live his life and be independent than I have. It wasn’t fair.” “Did you want it?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I feel like I’ve been on my own so long, doing that with Keno would be like I was packing it in. Settling.” “It doesn’t make you a weak person to want to be in a relationship. You can’t be scared about what you feel for him.” “I need to feel like I’m with somebody because I want to be. Not because I need to be or because they want me to be and I’m just trying to make them happy.” “Talk to the guy. He would listen to you. I can’t take any more of those awful conversations you two pretend to have while trying not to look at each other.” “Do you think I lost something good?” “I think staying away from Keno is making you miserable. Just get back together already,” I said playfully. “You have so much time for me now, it’s insane.” She laughed. “He’s probably seeing someone else already,” she sighed. I knew for a fact that he was not. If I went to see him tonight, he’d probably being doing exactly what she was now. “Just promise me you’ll suck it up and at least talk to him.” She nodded, agreeing she would. We ate the rest of our dinner chatting. She always gave really good advice. I wondered what she would have said to me about Nate. I didn’t like keeping secrets from her. I asked her whether she wanted to stay over, but she said she’d just see me the next day. I cleaned up a little, washing dishes and tidying the kitchen before I got my laptop out. Fresh air and sunshine wasn’t all that was going to cure Nate. I had been thinking about what I was going to do to help him all day. I sat on my bed wondering where to start. I started slow, searching “drug addiction.” About an hour later, I had five pages of symptoms, withdrawal, risks, and treatment options that I could print out when I got to work the next day.

Chapter Thirteen Nate Housekeeping and I had an understanding. If I was asleep, they could just come in and do their thing, as long as they didn’t wake me. They seemed to be professionals, just handling the rest of the suite while I was in the bedroom and then taking care of that later. They hadn’t asked me once about why I had so many syringes in the trash, which was a good thing since I didn’t want to tell them. I judged whether a day was going to be bad or good by whether or not I was hungover, and I didn’t have one today. I’d been a good boy. Heroin was great if you were the sort of person who didn’t really like to leave the house. I checked the time and had a shower, ordering food that was here by the time I was out of the shower — breakfast food, although it was already past noon. I thought about what I was going to do today, remembering the day I had had with Abby yesterday. I had some questions. I hadn’t gotten too much from her. She was playful and flirty, but was she interested? Like, if I invited her up to my suite, would she say yes? She seemed a little young to be married and didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. She hadn’t said she was attached. If she was, then that was about to be a problem for whoever that guy was. Not me. I thought I had agreed to see her on Sunday, so maybe I’d find out then. I felt pretty good. I had actually had fun. Things started going a little left once we were back in the car, but up until that point, it had been great. I had to remember to send the pictures of the

Garden of the Gods to my dad; he’d like to see them. My suite suddenly felt too small. I wanted to leave. What else could I do now that I wasn’t spending the whole day inside? I could go talk to Abby, but she was working. Could I call my dad? No, he was probably working, too. I was the only person I knew who was on vacation. Maybe if I left the suite, I’d figure something out. I walked out, taking the elevator down. I got outside remembering how fast I had tried to find the bar my second day here. Keno worked at the bar, I thought, remembering. I hadn’t seen him in a little while. How was he? I didn’t have to try answer that question myself. I walked over to the bar. It was a reasonable time of day, so for once, I wasn’t the only person sitting there. I had to wait a little while he served some other people before getting to me. He came over, sliding me a vodka soda. “Is this still your drink? I know you don’t like the fruity stuff,” he said with a grin. “This is great. Thanks. How are you doing?” “Good. How are you? I didn’t see you at the luau again; did you leave early?” “Yeah. I wasn’t feeling too hot that night.” “Abby was worried about you.” “She was?” I asked. She had asked about me? “I heard her talking about you that night with her manager,” he said. “Are the two of you friends?” I asked. “Oh yeah. She’s a great girl,” he said fondly. Huh. How great was great? Had they dated? Was that how great? I felt a little jealous thinking that might have been what he was talking about.

“You two used to be together?” I asked, trying to make it sound casual. “No. Just friends. I went out with Makani for a while, but we broke up. Abby works here every summer. This is her fourth one, I think. We used to be a lot closer, but since the breakup, she keeps her distance for Makani’s sake.” “You went out with her friend?” “Yeah, but she bailed. I don’t know what happened.” Keno was hitting that? Well done, I thought. Makani was hot. “Did she cheat or something?” “Nah. She just left. We weren’t fighting or drifting apart. Nothing. She just said she didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore, and that was that.” “That’s rough,” I said. “It’s awkward for Abby now being stuck in between the two of us, so I just back off.” “What about her? Abby? Is she seeing anybody?” “I’ve never seen her with anyone… No. She’s single. She’s been single since I met her, in fact.” Really, I thought. How? She was gorgeous. Nice, too. I was going to bet she wasn’t crazy, either. “She’s not from here, though, right? She’s from the mainland? Maybe she has a boyfriend there?” “If she does, he hasn’t seen her in almost four years,” Keno scoffed. He told me about himself as I finished my drink, just the one today; I wasn’t trying to get hammered. We got into Kirsten a little since he brought up Makani again. He sure talked about her a lot for someone who was no longer in a relationship with her. By the time I was leaving, I still felt pretty good.

I wanted to keep it up. I spent my time sober more scared of when I was going to feel sick again than actually enjoying feeling normal. This was nice, but maybe checking into rehab would have been a better way to spend my money. Heroin wasn’t cigarettes; I didn’t think people could just quit without checking in somewhere. I wasn’t here to quit, really, but if I ended up being able to do it, then I wasn’t going to complain. If talking to Keno and Abby and going to places like the Garden of the Gods replaced heroin for me, at least half of my problems would disappear, just like that. I got back to my suite and sat at the piano. I was feeling inspired. It had become hard to feel that way anymore. It had been a weird, shitty, but also good few weeks since I’d landed in Lanai, and I felt sort of renewed. Like I’d gotten all that LA smog out of my lungs and was breathing clean air for the first time in years. I started playing through something I’d written years ago for Remus that we hadn’t ended up using. I had tons of stuff in the vault that I had written and never used for anything. Besides my housekeeper hearing me play when she happened to be in the house, nobody had heard it. I had a home studio, but that was something else that I had used less and less as my life fell apart. I’ve spent so much time being a loser, I thought. I’d gotten really great at heroin and booze, but had literally put the brakes on every other thing I used to do. Fuck that. That was the stuff that made me feel like myself. The drugs made me a zombie. Between the two of them, I had chosen the wrong thing. I wasn’t going to be able to make that choice forever. I had to wake up. My phone started vibrating in my pocket where it still was from my trip downstairs. I stopped playing to see who it was. Kirsten. I rolled my eyes and put the phone on the piano, ignoring it. It rang a couple more times until she finally went back to enjoying my money, or whatever the hell it was she did in her free time. I played a little while longer

before I figured it was time to order something to eat. My phone was still sitting on the piano. I picked it up thinking I’d see a text from Kirsten or something. She wasn’t the type to let sleeping dogs lie. It wasn’t a text, but she had left another voicemail. I hesitated before listening to it. No, this was okay. I was in a much better headspace than I had been when I’d gotten that first message. I’d been away a little while, I wasn’t antsy and dope sick. Nothing she said could touch me. I played the message. “Nate, I wish you’d stop ignoring me, babe,” she started. I frowned. Why was she being so nice all of a sudden? “I don’t know if I can go the whole summer without hearing from you. I want us to talk. After you come back, I want us to talk about things. About us. We’ve both said a lot of things in the past to hurt each other, but I love you, Nate, and I think we should give it another shot. Please call me back when you get this. I need to know that you aren’t shutting me out. You shouldn’t be alone right now, honey. Just call me if you need anything.” The message ended. I shut my eyes and sighed. I was in a better headspace, but something about Kirsten and everything she said to me these days just rubbed me the wrong way. She wanted to get back together now? Why? So she could file for divorce again? I stood up, making the piano bench fall over. Fuck her. Fuck that bitch and whatever scam she was trying to pull. There was no way she’d had a come to Jesus moment since the last message she’d sent me telling me I could die and it wouldn’t make a difference to her. It hadn’t been long enough. It was still too fresh. Hawai’i wasn’t far enough. All the

people I hated were still in LA, but all the shit had followed me here. I paced around the room, mad, frustrated, and angry that this was my fucking life. I grabbed a lamp sitting on the table near the piano and launched it at the deck. The doors were open, so it smashed against the banister. I knocked the dining room chairs aside, flipping the table. It cracked as it landed heavily on its side. I launched one of the chairs right into a framed picture of waves breaking on a beach. Then I stormed into the bedroom and dug my kit out of the closet. I walked over to the bed and opened it, looking at my solution. All it took was one little dose, and I could forget. All this could fade into nothing and I’d feel great. It had worked for so long; why couldn’t I just continue? I looked at my stuff for a long while before walking back out of the bedroom. I had a better idea. I searched the drawers in the living room for hotel stationary and a pen. I sat at the piano and started writing.

Chapter Fourteen Abby I took a deep breath, raising my fist to knock on the door. The first time I had done this, it had been a disaster. This time, I had food. It was Sunday; we were going out. It was only eight, but hey, I’d never said what time we were going to leave. I had been thinking about where to take him all weekend. I was excited. Another day with Nate? It had taken restraint just to wait this long before going to see him. I couldn’t hear anything behind the door. I knocked again. He finally came to open it. I felt myself hold my breath as the doorknob dropped and the door swung open. Oh God. What had he done to himself last night? He looked sleepy, and he was frowning. He didn’t have a shirt on, but was still in his jeans. “Oh good, you’re up,” I said brightly. “I thought you were still asleep.” I walked past him into the room and was stopped in my tracks. Guess he had had a big night. The suite was trashed. “Oh. Did you lose something?” I asked. I looked for somewhere to put the bag down, but the dining table was turned on its side in the middle of the room. Times like this, I was glad I wasn’t part of housekeeping. I looked back at him and noticed he looked a little embarrassed. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just charge the damage to the room. I’ll pay for it,” he said. Damn right, he would. Joseph could not hear about this. I turned and looked at him. “Never mind,” I said. “I brought breakfast. Have you ever had musubi?” I asked

walking up to him with the bag. I reached in and pulled one out handing it to him. “Go on,” I urged. He took it and looked at me like he couldn’t see me, squinting. It was kind of cute. He was so sleepy. “What time is it?” he grumbled. “Breakfast time. Eat.” He sighed and took a bite out of the musubi. “I swear to God the sun hasn’t come up yet. Why are you here so early?” “It’s already eight. Why are you still asleep?” “It’s eight in the morning. Nothing happens at eight in the morning,” he complained. I smirked. Makani hated mornings, too. “How would you know that if you’ve never been awake early enough to find out?” I asked. He frowned at me, eating his breakfast. “I’m going back to bed,” he announced, walking back to the bedroom. Now how did he expect to have a full day when he kept starting them in the middle? I walked to his refreshment center and quickly brewed some coffee. The suite wasn’t a big deal. The furniture could be replaced, and it could be tidied up. What if his problems were deeper than just his addiction? I’d read that when a person was addicted, that put strain on the other parts of their life, too. Was that it? What else had gone wrong for him? I knew that he and the band were on bad terms, but maybe he was having family trouble, too; financial maybe? I didn’t know the whole deal. I didn’t know how much pain he was in, but I did know that when we had gone to Keahiakawelo, he had been happy to be there. He had had a good time and wasn’t thinking about using. That was all I wanted, just for him to feel like he was free. I picked the bag with the musubi up and walked into his bedroom. He was face down

on the bed in his underwear; he’d taken the jeans off. Clearly, the boundaries were gone between us. I thought about looking away, but wondered when I’d be able to ogle at him this freely again. His back was wide and muscular, and he had a few tattoos there as well that I hadn’t known about. I peered at his ass through his tight boxer briefs as I put the bag and the coffee down on the nightstand. It looked like the rest of him: firm and muscular. “I left your coffee black because you’re a little drowsy today,” I said. “Do you like the musubi?” He grunted. I wasn’t sure whether that was a yes or no. “There’s this amazing food truck in the city, they make these incredible musubi. It’s these two guys, one’s from here, and the other’s from the mainland. They do a sort of Hawai’ian-American fusion thing. I didn’t know which one you’d like, so I just got you their spam and bacon breakfast ones,” I said. He rolled over onto his back and leaned up on his elbows to look at me. Eyes on his face, Abby, I had to remind myself. In his bed, half asleep and grumpy, he was still the hottest guy I’d ever seen. “Why are you here so early? Are we going fishing or something?” “Nate, it’s much too late for that,” I said smiling. “If you want to, we can go tomorrow. You’ll have to be up before dawn, though. Here,” I said, picking up his coffee and handing it to him. He took it and looked at the liquid in the cup, not drinking it. “Eat this before it gets cold,” I instructed, handing him the bag, too. “Have you had a shower already, or do you take one at night?” I asked, walking towards his closet. I slid it open and looked at the row of dark t-shirts. The shelves turned up jeans and long pants. He did know he was coming to Hawai’i, didn’t he? He’d die when it started getting warmer. “Nate,” I said looking back at him, “where are all your clothes?” He was eating the

musubi, leaning up against the headboard of the bed, still sleepy and disoriented. “They’re right there,” he said with a full mouth. I turned back looking at the clothes. “That’s okay. We can get you something else another day,” I said. I pulled a black tshirt off a hanger. “Long sleeves,” he said, from behind me. I glanced back at him, returning it and picking a long-sleeved one instead. I pulled out the lightest wash of jeans he had, which were still gray. “Do you need help in the bathroom, or should I wait for you out here?” I asked seriously. If he wanted, I’d hose him down myself. He was leaving his suite, and he was doing it today. He sipped his coffee slowly, looking a little more human. “Rain check?” he asked. “Nope. You can’t stay in here while the room’s being repaired. Come on,” I said, walking into the bathroom. I grabbed his towel and walked back out, tossing it to him on the bed. He sighed, looking like he was regretting every decision he’d made in his life. I sat on the couch and watched him slowly make his way to the bathroom, before stopping to look back at me. “You’re waiting?” “I need to make sure you’re actually getting ready,” I said. “You’re not bailing on me. Not today, Nate.” He sighed, cursing under his breath. He walked into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. I heard the shower come on and realized he was naked, just feet away from me. Maybe waiting for him in the living area would be better. Or out on the deck; it was such a beautiful morning. I had seen most of him already, but being this close to him, knowing he had nothing

on, was giving me really inappropriate fantasies. He had left the door open so he probably didn’t even care if I saw him naked, right? No, I thought, urgently. I was supposed to be a professional. I managed to keep the urge to peep down until he came out of the bathroom. A short towel was tied low around his hips. Somehow, it was more erotic than even seeing him in his underwear. He was using another to dry his hair. It looked black when it was wet. “Your clothes are on your bed,” I told him smiling. He walked over to the bed to get changed. I heard something, which I guessed was him dropping his towel on the ground. I blushed furiously. I should have gone out to the deck. “You forgot underwear,” he mumbled. Before I could say anything, he was walking to the closet to get some, completely naked. The connection between my brain and mouth must have shorted, looking at his naked back and ass because I was speechless. Not only that, I was rooted to the spot. How dare he be so casual walking around naked in front of me? My stomach burned when I realized what I’d see when he turned around. “Hey, where do you live? You stay here at the hotel?” he asked. My heart race slowed when I realized he wasn’t going to flash me. He pulled a pair of boxer briefs on, also black, before turning around. I swallowed hard to try moisten my dry throat. “Yeah, well, no… Sort of,” I said, flustered. “Where are we going today?” he asked, going back to the bed to continue dressing. I cleared my throat, glad that I wasn’t looking at him anymore. Oh, my God. “I thought I’d give you a tour of the island,” I said. “Shipwreck beach and whatnot?” he asked. He’d read the pamphlets. “No. Other spots, the ones tourists don’t know about,” I said, turning to look at him.

He was pulling the shirt over his head. I watched him purposefully make sure his arms were covered, seeing the red marks down his left forearm. Oh, that was why. “I still don’t know why we have to leave so early,” he complained. “Abby, thanks so much for being my personal tour guide around the island today even though it totally isn’t your job, and I’m an angry morning person. I really appreciate it,” I said in an exaggerated deep voice, telling him what he should have been saying to me. It made him laugh. “I don’t fucking sound like that,” he said as he put shoes on. “You’ve been nothing but grouchy since I got here,” I teased. “Well, you should catch me after twelve next time. I’m great in the afternoon. Where are we going?” “You might want to grab everything you need now; we aren’t going to be back till the sun goes down,” I warned instead of answering his question. “Are we going swimming or something? Because I’m eighty-sixing anything I have to take my clothes off to do,” he said. I shrugged, smiling because I didn’t want to give anything away. We weren’t swimming, but he was going to have to be a little more enthusiastic about having a good time today or else it wouldn’t work. “Let’s go,” I said grandly, letting him lead the way out the door. Since I had brought Nate breakfast in bed, we had skipped finding somewhere to eat, and I had taken him to see Sweetheart Rock before we drove into the city. We stopped for coffee before going by Kaunolu Village. Most people who came to stay on the island tended to stay at one of the resorts. Since they offered so many things for people to do, they ended up leaving the island having

barely scratched the surface of what it had to offer. Archaeological sites dotted the entire island — some centuries old, some just ruins from the 20th Century. Nate had had a good enough time at Keahiakawelo, and there was nothing I was giving him taking him to the golf course, so I picked places a little more off the beaten path. He was a little hard to read, but he hadn’t complained. He hadn’t seemed sick at all, either — both good things. By mid-afternoon, we had stopped in the city for lunch, the spot Makani’s friend owned. Nate was looking at his plate, frowning. “What did you say this was?” he asked. “Loco Moco,” I said. He wedged his fork under the fried egg and lifted it, looking underneath. “I don’t think these things are all supposed to be eaten at the same time together,” he said. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” I said. He looked at me, then back at the plate. I watched him, stifling a laugh as he tried some, gingerly feeding himself a mouthful. “So?” I asked. “It’s really good,” he admitted. I sat back in my seat, satisfied. “Better than hotel food?” “A lot better,” he said, eating. “After a while, it’s just too much, you know? It’s like having cake every day when all you want is ramen noodles and water.” “Nobody’s making you stay at the hotel. You can leave whenever you want if you want to eat out,” I said. “Are you going to come with me?” he asked.

“If you want me to,” I shrugged. “If I have to leave work anyway; I might as well get fed in the process,” I said, trying not to give away how excited the thought made me. I was in a complicated place. Entertaining a celebrity while he had his island holiday was what it was ostensibly, but all these hours alone together, all these tours to secluded spots… This had trouble written all over it. I had thought previously that there was no way I was getting my wires crossed, but now I knew I was wrong. I was still working, and that meant I had to be professional, but that didn’t mean I stopped feeling the way I did. This was the man who wrote those songs I loved. Nate. He wasn’t a big star, untouchable and aloof. He was a guy who was talented and funny who I was going to have a really hard time not falling for. We finished our lunch and left the restaurant. “Back to the hotel?” he asked. “Tired already?” I challenged. “We have one more stop.” I climbed into the car. “Another one? This place is so small; how many secret spots do you know?” he asked. I shrugged. “When I got here, I had a lot more time on my hands,” I said vaguely. “I was shy and wanted places I knew nobody would find me if I didn’t want to be found.” “Where are we going?” “The beach,” I said. “That’s not secret. I’ve been there.” “Not that beach. Wait and see,” I smiled. There was still time to back out. He didn’t know where we were or where we were meant to be going, so I could still double back and

start heading somewhere else. It still wasn’t too late. No. I was doing this. I had never even taken Makani there. I was nervous, but I wanted him to know I was serious about helping him. I’d been going to Polihua Beach since I’d gotten to the island. There were no resorts or property built on it. It was a little hard to get to because you had to go by Keahiakawelo, and the road wasn’t paved, but it was worth the trip. I went when I wanted a little time away from it all. Just time to think. “Hey, I remember this. Are we going back to the Garden of the Gods?” he asked, recognizing the road. “You don’t like surprises, do you?” I asked. “This whole day has felt like one long kidnapping. You’re killing me. Just tell me where we’re going.” “Just be glad I didn’t put a bag over your head and throw you in the trunk. You’re a very difficult person to travel with,” I said with a smile. He laughed a little. “Every tour guide’s nightmare. You aren’t the only person who thinks so,” he said. “I’m going to keep asking you until you tell me.” “And I’ll keep telling you to wait and see.” He went quiet for a minute before he spoke again. “How do you know Keno?” he asked. “Keno? I didn’t know you two knew each other. I met him my first summer at the hotel. Makani introduced us,” I said, slightly impressed that he seemed to have made a friend. “Do you know everyone on the island?” he asked.

“Almost. It’s a small place.” “Yeah. Nothing like Los Angeles. Thank God,” he said looking out the window. “Have you always lived there?” I asked to get him talking. “No. I grew up in San Francisco.” By the time we got to the beach, he had told me about the times he had spent visiting Hawai’i with his parents when he was younger, the last time he’d come to visit, and asked me to tell him where we were going one more time.

Chapter Fifteen Nate The beach was empty when we got there. Like, completely deserted. Nobody, anywhere in sight. I understood that Lanai wasn’t really built up, but this place was incredible. Why didn’t anyone come? Did they not know it was here? The wind was coming off the water strong. The water was dark blue and choppy, and the waves were crashing loudly on the shore. It was the sort of beach you expected when you came to Hawai’i: soft white sand dotted with rocks here and there, but it was like we had turned up on a deserted island or something. Since people used beaches at resorts, it was hard to remember that they weren’t actually there for us to use. They just existed. “How did you find this place?” I asked her, impressed. “Makani told me about it, but told me it wasn’t worth coming because nothing ever happened here. Do you like it?” she asked. “I can’t believe nobody’s here.” “The water is too rough to swim or surf. And there are sharks sometimes,” she commented casually. “Wanna see something?” she asked. I said I did. I followed her down to the edge of the water. She walked along its edge before stopping and waving me over. I walked over and stood by her. A large sea turtle covered halfway in water was laying in the sand.

“They come here to lay eggs,” she said. “Polihua means ‘cove of eggs.’ We’re not allowed to touch them; they’re endangered.” She started down the beach along the water’s edge. I followed her at a slow walk. “If it was winter, we’d probably be able to see whales. That over there,” she said, pointing across the water into the distance, “is Molokai Island. It’s a little bigger than Lanai. More people, too.” “I can see why you’d want to keep this place a secret,” I said. “I hoped you’d like it,” she said, smiling up at me. “I know you have a lot on your mind. I thought maybe it would help you figure stuff out the way it helps me.” “Thank you for sharing it with me,” I said looking down at her. I didn’t know whether I’d ever met anyone so…sweet. She was like a kid. Ugh. No, bad example. She was just so nice, earnest, and willing to help. I thought about kissing her, but I didn’t think that was why she’d brought me here. We walked along the water in silence. She had taken off her shoes and was holding them in her hand. She pointed out an area near some rocks and suggested we go sit down. I followed her up and helped her spread the large beach towel she took out of her bag. She sat crossed legged on one side of the towel. I took my shoes off and sat next to her. “Are you okay?” she asked me. “I’m great.” “No, I mean… I woke you up so early today and you haven’t had any of your…” She trailed off and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said looking down. “I just read-” “You read something?” I asked, cutting her off. Had someone leaked a rumor about my addiction? “I did a little research about heroin addiction to try figure out what you were going

through,” she clarified. I calmed down. I was jumping to conclusions. I was almost one hundred percent sure she didn’t know who I was; I needed to stop it. “What did you find out?” “That it’s not just your mind that becomes addicted; it’s your body, too,” she said. “And, that opiates are the some of the hardest things to stop using.” “True, and true. I thought it was bullshit when I started, but look who was wrong,” I said darkly. “How long have you been using?” “Coming up on a year, maybe,” I said. “How did it happen?” “On tour. We got loaded almost every night. Our first major label album had done great. Whenever we got to a new city, the first thing we found out was where to get weed. We had a date in Philadelphia; after the show, we went back to our bus. One of the guys in the band, Jeffrey, let these guys come with us who said they could score us some weed. They gave us weed, but they also had dope. “I hadn’t been smoking that night, but I was drunk. One of the guys offered to get me high, and I let him shoot me up. I thought that would be the last time, but I was looking for dealers all of our next stops. “When I got to LA, I found a doctor who I could get pure, pharmaceutical grade stuff from and an endless supply of needles. I started needing more and more, cutting people off and getting in trouble because I’d be too high to play.” She hadn’t interrupted me, so I kept going. I couldn’t look at her telling her this stuff, but I could feel her blue eyes on me. “I was already upset about how the band was getting, but when I started getting high,

I stopped giving a fuck completely. In the beginning, I wrote most of our stuff, and they let us make the music we wanted to. “Finally, before our European tour dates were announced, I left. They’ve been trying to get me back, but I can’t do it. I can’t make that shit they want us to make.” I almost kept going but stopped myself because I had said too much. I had almost told her about Kirsten, but even she wouldn’t want to hear about that. She’d think I’d need to be put on the watch or something. “If you were clean, would you go back to your band?” “I don’t want to get clean for them. I want it for me,” I said, finally looking at her. She had turned her body so she was facing me. “Even if we never get back together, I still have to live with myself. People die from this shit. I don’t want to go out like that,” I admitted. I felt her hands wrap around mine and rest both of them on her crossed legs. “If you’ll let me, I’d really like to help you get better,” she said. “I think it would be really sad if you went out like that, too.” Why, I wanted to ask her. What could she possibly gain from helping me? We had just met. We’d only known each other a few weeks. “It’s gonna get really ugly. You won’t like me when I’m withdrawing,” I warned, jokingly. I felt her squeeze my hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said. This fucking chick. Why was she being so nice to me? I didn’t want her to stop, but I didn’t get it. I had nothing to offer her. I was a fucking burden. She was my babysitter. She had to drive me around, and now she was listening to me bitch about my shitty problems. Why was she like this? How was she so nice when she had no reason to be?

“I’m warning you, Abby,” I said seriously. She scooted closer so her knee touched my thigh. “I know,” she said smiling. She got onto her knees and hugged me. Her arms went around my neck, and I immediately pulled her into me. I held her around the waist, holding her tight. To do that, she had to get her legs on either side of mine. I felt her small body under my arms and really, really didn’t want to let go. I felt her move her arms, but I didn’t give. I loosened my hold so she could lean back enough to look at me. I saw a blush creep up her face. “Do you want to start heading back?” she asked me. I had my hands around her waist, keeping her still on my lap. “No,” I said. My hands went lower, flattening over her bare thighs. “Do you?” “The sun’s going down,” she said absently. She brought her hands up and rested them on my chest, lightly fisting the fabric. “Take it off,” I said. She looked at me, something flashing in her eyes. She bit her lip and looked down at my body as her hands ran slowly down to the bottom of the shirt. I watched her grab it and pull it up, raising my arms so she could take it off completely. She looked at my chest like she didn’t know what to do with it. I took one of her hands and laid it palm down on my pec. She raked her fingers over my skin lightly. But when I grabbed the bottom of her tank top and tried to pull it off, she stopped me, pulling it back down. Fuck. Too fast. “Shit. Abby, I’m sorry,” I said. Well done, shithead, I thought. You were so close. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” “No, I’m sorry,” she said. She looked down and took a deep breath. She pulled her

tank top off slowly, leaving her in a small, light-green bikini top. She shifted on my lap so our bodies were touching and slowly kissed me. Her kiss was feather light. She was kissing me like she was scared she was doing the wrong thing. I grabbed her around the waist again and pulled her into me. She broke the kiss and looked down at me. “Are you sure?” I asked. I was pitching a tent in my pants, and where she was on top of me, I was sure she could feel it. She nodded, reaching behind her and pulling the straps of her bikini loose. She took it off and put it beside us with our shirts. Fuck me, she was beautiful. Her tits were round, with hard, pink nipples. Her body was toned with light tan lines. She ran her hands down my body again, kissing her way up from my chest. Oh yeah. She wanted me, too. Her lips were soft, kissing my neck and jaw before coming back to my lips again. Her hands went into my hair, down my back…everywhere. She parted her lips for me, allowing me to taste her. She let out the tiniest moan, squeezing one of my biceps. I felt like I was inside her already, and we hadn’t even done anything yet. The sound of the waves, everything I’d said to her, my addiction all faded into nothing. All I could feel were her small, soft hands, her body on top of mine. I felt peaceful, like when I played the piano. She moaned again, feeling me bite her lower lip. Something told me I’d be able to make her make sweet music, too.

Chapter Sixteen Abby I didn’t know what I was doing. My mind was racing. All I knew right then was that Nate wanted me. He wanted me to help him and now, he wanted me this way. Every part of my body was buzzing. Running my hands over his planes of warm skin pulled tight over his muscles felt like a dream. The only thing that told me this was real was his hands on me. The light hair on his chest stimulated my nipples as he pulled me into him. His tongue pushed against mine in my mouth. His scruff felt prickly against my face. He had poured his heart out to me. Maybe it was because what he’d just shared with me had been so intimate, but I felt like this and that were one combined experience. I felt so honored that he would share what he had. I felt overwhelmed by the intimacy, and opening my body up to him felt almost natural. He held me around the waist, and I felt him move, lowering me onto my back on the towel. I felt exposed, seeing his face looking down at me. It had been a while since I’d let a guy touch me like this. His mouth came down on my nipple, and I gasped, sealing my eyes shut. I felt him start on the button of my shorts. He snapped it open and dropped the zipper. I raised my hips to let him pull them off, but he slid his hand inside instead, rubbing my slit. I yelped, already overwhelmed by his mouth on my nipple and his hand touching me. I held his arm, squeezing as my body processed those long-forgotten sensations. I wanted it. I wanted everything. I wriggled my hips trying to get my shorts off. He

noticed and sat up on his knees to let me take my clothes off. My default instinct when it came to men screamed at me to stop, but this wasn’t just anybody. I hadn’t felt this connected to anyone in a long time. His eyes on me as I undressed made me feel beautiful, not like a piece of meat. “Jesus Christ, Abby,” he said quietly. He started on his own pants, wrestling those and his underwear off before coming towards me again. He positioned himself between my legs and kissed me sweetly, holding his weight on his arms so he wasn’t bearing down on me. I felt brazen, running my hands over his shoulders, his back, his ass, any part of him I could reach. I reached one hand between us and found his dick. The head was wet under my fingers. My hand didn’t even go all the way around. Oh my God, was it going to hurt? I heard him groan and push his hips forward into my hand. I stroked the tight, hot skin, feeling how hard he was. “I want to fuck you, Abby,” he whispered into my ear, using his teeth gently biting and sucking my neck. I wanted him to. There was nothing else I wanted more than that. “Do you have protection?” He shifted off of me and searched the pockets of his jeans. I turned my head, seeing the bright pink and yellow sunset and remembering where we were. Not many people came to the beach; that was why I liked it. We were outside, but somehow, I didn’t feel we were exposed or in public. He found a condom and fitted it over his dick. He got back on top of me, pulling my legs up around him. “Ready?” he asked. I nodded, biting my lip. He kissed me softly, pushing the head of his dick against my opening. Fuck, that was big. It had been a while.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling him enter me. My lips stretched wider than they’d had to in a while. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, stopping. I let out a ragged exhale, realizing I’d been holding my breath. “Oh God, Abby,” he said, pulling out. “No. I don’t want you to stop,” I protested, reaching for him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, looking into my face. “Just go slow,” I said as I leaned in to kiss him. He lowered himself on top of me again, warning me once more before he started pushing into me. I felt a little pressure and pain as he slowly entered me. He thrust forward and would pull out, slowly getting deeper every thrust. The pressure turned into pleasure the deeper I felt him. I began to writhe underneath him, feeling him fill me up. By the time he could slide into me all the way smoothly, I was a mess, sweating and begging underneath him. His body pressed down into mine as he drove into me. His strokes were long and deep, rekindling a flame inside me that I thought had died out a long time ago. I wasn’t experienced, but it definitely hadn’t felt like this the times I’d done it in the past. This felt raw and deep. I felt it in my whole body. I felt him slow down slightly and move above me. I wanted to plead with him not to stop, but the words died in my throat. His fingers firmly massaged my clit as he continued to fuck me. I cried out, feeling him play me like an instrument. I wasn’t going to last much longer, not if he didn’t stop touching me. I felt my body seize as I came. White light shot behind my eyelids, and I felt a flood of hot pleasure seep into every neglected part of me from my core. He quickened his pace, fucking me with hard, short strokes before he finished, as well. We were still for a while afterwards. The wind was cool on my heated skin and I

missed the feel of his large body over mine when he finally moved, sliding out of me. He asked me whether I was okay before he told me to start getting dressed as he got rid of the condom. He offered to drive us back. I was a little unsure, but let him since I wasn’t that sure sitting in the car with him after that wouldn’t drive me to distraction. He got through the craggy, unpaved section near Keahiakawelo fairly quickly and followed my directions, getting on the road that would get us to the hotel. I folded my legs up on the seat and watched the darkening landscape go by us outside. “Abby?” he said. “Yeah?” “Was that your first time?” he asked. Valid question, I suppose. I felt sore from the vigorous activity after such a long drought. Not a bad sore. Like a satisfied sore. “No. It’s just been a while since I last…you know,” I said, looking over at him. “Was it your first time?” I asked him. He laughed. “Definitely not,” he said. I peered back out the window. He was twenty-seven; of course, he wasn’t a virgin. He’d been married before. It wasn’t a big deal. We had just… It had just felt right, so we had done it. We were two people who were attracted to each other and we did something about it. I sighed. How many other girls did this after sex? I didn’t want to spend so much time dwelling on it, but we had just changed everything between us. He still wasn’t leaving the resort for a long time. Had he come to Hawaii intending to have a relationship with someone? Was I his summer fling? I felt a little gross thinking about it. Oh God, were there employee rules about this

that I was breaking? What was this in the first place? It was probably nothing. It was just something that had happened and now that it had, we could make the decision to keep it in the past and move on. I wanted to help him with his addiction. I was pretty sure my vagina had nothing to offer him as far as his recovery. Our shift was over, so Makani wasn’t at the front desk when I entered the lobby at the end of the day. Nate was, though. He was standing there talking to Stephanie, one of the girls who did nights; he hadn’t gone right to his suite. I had taken my time making sure the car went back and had hoped I’d be able to get away with not seeing him again that night. I said hi to Stephanie, walking past the desk. “I had a good time today,” Nate said to me. “I’m glad,” I said shortly. “Have a good night, Mr. Stone.” “You’re not coming up with me?” he asked. I blushed furiously. Stephanie was right there. What was he doing? “Did you have a problem with your suite, Mr. Stone?” I asked. “I wanted to get it looked at today. Maybe housekeeping took care of it. I still think you should come up with me and have a look,” he said seriously. “If there is a problem, I can come look at it, sir. Abby’s not working right now,” Stephanie added helpfully. “No, I’ll do it,” I told her. I looked at Nate and started towards the elevator. The door closed, and I felt like he was laughing at me. Had he done that on purpose? “I thought I asked you to stop calling me Mr. Stone,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I got a little flustered when you asked me to come up to your room in front of one of my colleagues.” He chuckled. At least he found this amusing. “Are you ashamed of me?” he asked. “No, but I work here. I like to keep my private life private.” “Like what you go to do alone at Polihua Beach?” he asked. The doors opened, and I stepped out ahead of him. “Yeah. Like that,” I said quietly. We got to his door, and he took his time opening it up. I watched him doing it, realizing how calm he’d been the entire day. He’d even driven. His hands weren’t shaking, and he hadn’t broken out in a cold sweat. “Thanks again for taking me out today. I know it isn’t your job, but I’m glad I get to see the island with you,” he said sincerely. I nodded. “Don’t mention it. Hey, maybe getting out more will be good for you. You didn’t get the sweats once,” I said lightly. He smiled. “You’re right,” he said. “Where are you going right now?” “Home. I have work tomorrow.” “Stay here with me. You don’t have to go all the way home.” “I live just past the luau grounds on the beach; it isn’t that far a walk at all.” “Abby,” he said, taking a step towards me. He cupped my face and tilted it upwards so he could kiss me. “I want you to stay,” he said. Stop reading into this, Abby; he’s just being nice, I thought. No, he just probably thinks it will happen again. Even if he does, what’s wrong with that? It’s not like I don’t want the same thing. “Okay,” I said quietly. He let me in and closed the door behind me. I put my bag

down near the door and turned to look at him. “I have to leave early tomorrow morning for work.” “That’s okay, stay here now. Are you hungry?” he asked. “I am. Starved, actually.” “You can go have a shower; I’ll get us food,” he said. He peeled his shirt off and walked into the bedroom. What on earth was happening? He needed to be careful of what he was offering me because I needed to know what was going on here. There were two bathrooms in the suite, so I used the one that wasn’t in his room. I had a quick shower, washing my hair. I stared at my reflection in the foggy mirror after. I avoided this — getting involved with people this way — because I wasn’t willing to let someone have my heart at their disposal to do with whatever they wanted. It had only been a few hours since we were at the beach together, but it had probably been building the entire day. I knew I said I was going to help him, but maybe he had misunderstood what I meant. Maybe I had misunderstood what he had meant in letting me do it. He had kissed me and asked me to stay the night, but just because those things had happened didn’t mean that they had to happen again. I wanted them to, but that was less important than what I had promised him on the beach. A knock on the door broke me out of my reverie. I wrapped myself in a towel and opened it, seeing Nate. He held something out to me. “Here,” he said, “I know you didn’t carry any extra clothes with you.” I looked down at his hand. It was a gray t-shirt. One of his. I took it gingerly. “Thanks.” “Come on out when you’re done. The food’s almost here.”

I agreed and closed the door, walking back to the mirror. I knew I hadn’t been with a lot of guys, but I wasn’t a child. If he didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be. If sex had been all he wanted, then he’d already gotten it. He didn’t need to have me around any longer if I’d already served his purpose for him. I pulled the t-shirt over my head. It fit me a little bigger than the ones I typically wore to go to sleep. I walked out slowly and looked around the living room. He was in there, wearing boxer briefs and nothing else. He smiled when he saw me. “I got you the same thing I got, an American burger and fries. I hope that’s okay,” he said. He was pulling the cloches off of hot plates of food. “Nate,” I said, “you don’t have to do any of this. What happened between us doesn’t have to change anything.” “Are you seeing someone?” he asked me. “I’m not. That isn’t it. I want to help you, and I like spending time with you. I don’t expect anything in return. I just want to see you well again,” I said, tripping over my words. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not going to ask you to stay here with me if you really don’t want to, but I want you, Abby,” he said. My breathing slowed. Was it really that simple? He wanted me? But he was leaving. How could he tell me that, knowing that in a couple months he’d be back in LA and I’d still be here? “Just stay with me, Abby,” he said, insistently. So what if he was going? I thought suddenly. He was here now. The connection we’d shared at the beach, the time we had spent together — it all had to mean something. It had to. I walked over to the table and ate with him. We talked about how well his room had

been restored since that morning and chatted about the places we’d gone that day, like a date. When we were finished, it was still fairly early in the night, but I was tired. I thought for a second about asking him whether I could take the sofa bed, but reeled it in, not really willing to throw away an opportunity to be close to him again. His bed was really comfortable. I fell asleep next to him as the television quietly droned in the background.

Chapter Seventeen Nate I woke up like someone had just punched me in the chest. The room was dark and quiet. I had to take a minute to remember where I was because my mind felt like I was still asleep. My skin felt clammy; I was soaking wet with sweat. I threw the covers off and tried to get myself up into a sitting position. Every move I made hurt like I’d been lying still for years. My heart was racing, and I felt like I was definitely about to throw up. Fuck. Couldn’t even do one whole day, huh? I should have known this was coming. I was still on my back. Pushing myself up, I realized I wasn’t alone. Abby was asleep, facing me. As if this night could get worse. I tried to move quietly. I couldn’t do it quickly because my body felt like I’d just run a marathon. I needed a fucking dose. I was dying. That’s what was happening. This is what death felt like. I’d almost gone an entire twenty-four hours without shooting. That was long enough. I was calling that a record. I’d get clean – as soon as I shot up just this one last time. Where was my stuff? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t think. Where the fuck had I put it? I stumbled into the living room. Was it in there? I couldn’t see my kit anywhere. Was it even still there? I’d trashed the place the night before; what if it was gone? I went to a couch and threw the pillows on the ground, checking behind them. There was nothing on the piano or the dining table. I checked the shelves pushing the vases and decorations onto the floor, not caring whether they broke.

Nothing. Where the fuck was it? The bedroom? I couldn’t go in there. Abby was still in there. She was asleep. She couldn’t see me like this. My stomach was turning. I tried to get to the fridge, but switched streams halfway because I was going to be sick. I scrambled back into the room to the bathroom, barely making it before I started throwing up. I puked my dinner into the toilet bowl, feeling my stomach cramp painfully. Shit. That was new. I knew other people who had gotten the cramps and thrown up, but I hadn’t stayed sober long enough before for it to be me. Look at that, new milestone, I thought. I slumped against the toilet, flushing it. I felt exhausted. My heart was still racing, but my body ached and I was sweating. God, how awful would it have been for Abby to walk in right then? Yeah. We’d had sex and she was pretty into me, but this would probably cool her down real quick. I pulled myself painfully back to my knees. Had I left it in here? I checked the tub and shelves, throwing the towels on the ground. “Nate?” Fuck. “Go back to bed, Abby,” I growled from the ground. “Nate, what’s going on?” she asked. “I said go back to bed. Leave me alone.” She came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. “Nate, come back to bed,” she said putting her hand back on my shoulder. “Where’s my kit?” I asked her. “Your what?”

“My kit, Abby, don’t play dumb. Did you take it? So I couldn’t shoot up? That how you plan on helping me?” I demanded. “Nate, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Tell me,” I demanded. “I don’t know where it is,” she insisted. She looked at my face, touching my cheek. I flinched away. “Have you been throwing up?” she asked. I ignored her question and tried to get up. “Nate,” she called. “Fuck off, Abby. Unless you’re helping me find my kit, I don’t want to hear it,” I said. I got up and left the room feeling bad for talking to her like that, but maybe she’d leave. She’d leave, and I wouldn’t have to feel like a disgusting degenerate shoving the needle into my shoulder because my hands would be shaking too hard to get a vein without missing. I got back out to the bedroom, starting with the bed. I ripped the covers off, throwing the pillows on the ground. I threw the cupboards open checking inside. I was getting frustrated. I started on the couch, pulling all the cushions up. One of them caught the lamp on the second nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor. “Nate!” I looked up seeing Abby in the bathroom doorway. The bathroom light was on behind her, so she looked like a ghost or something, like she wasn’t really there. She came up to me. “Nate, stop,” she said, taking the cushion I was holding from my hand. “You have to calm down,” she said. “Where’s my shit?” “You can’t give up now, Nate; you’ve managed not to use the whole day,” she said, putting her hands on my arms. “Yeah, now we know my fucking limit.”

“If you give up now, you’ll have to start again from scratch,” she said. I was nauseated, and my heart was racing so fast I thought it was about to stop. Starting again from scratch meant not feeling like this right now, and recovery or not, I wanted to stop feeling like I was about to die. “I can’t fucking do it, Abby,” I said. “I said I was going to help you.” “The only way you could do that is helping me find a vein that isn’t fucking dead,” I snapped. I saw her flinch a little. I was being an ass. I knew that, but I couldn’t fucking do it. If I showed her it was useless to try and help me, she wouldn’t have to waste her time trying to do it. She wouldn’t have to fucking watch this anymore. “I’m not leaving you alone, Nate,” she said. “Well, maybe you should,” I said, knowing I was pushing her away. In the dim light from the bathroom, her eyes became glassy. She was crying. She shook her head. Shit. Leave, goddamnit. Leave me alone. Why wasn’t she letting me destroy my life in peace? “I know you’re struggling right now, but this is the worst of it. It will get easier. All you have to do is ride it out. I said I’d be here for you, and I meant it,” she said. I sighed, feeling my body sag. I wanted to believe her. I really wanted to let her help me, but I didn’t know what to do when someone was trying to look after me. “Come on,” she said. She took one of my hands and pulled me after her. I resisted a little, but let her do it. We went back into the bathroom. The shower was on, making the small room foggy and warm. I watched her pull my t-shirt off and slide her hands under the waistband of my boxer briefs so they could slide down, too. “Come on,” she prompted gently again. I followed her into the shower. The water was sort of hot, hotter than I would usually have it, but it

felt good because I was hurting so bad. I turned my face up into the stream. It felt good. Abby was running her hands over my shoulders and chest. We stayed there a while before she stopped the water, and we went back to the room. She had put a robe on, and I was in a towel. I let her lead me to the bed and make me lay back on the bed. I still wanted to shoot up, but I wasn’t feeling as nauseated. I was feeling sort of tired. The room was dark, but I could still see her moving around. “Wait here,” she said, getting off the bed. “Don’t leave,” I said quickly. I started getting up off the bed. “Stop moving,” she said. She sat on the bed behind me, letting me rest my head on her lap. She ran a hand through my wet hair. “How are you feeling?” “Like shit,” I grumbled, looking up at her dark silhouette. She was stroking my hair. It felt nice. “What can I get for you?” she asked. “Heroin,” I said. “What else?” she urged. I sighed. She wasn’t going to let me do it. “Why are you still here?” I thought, saying it out loud. She didn’t say anything, and her hand slowed down a little in my hair. She moved a little under me, and I was scared she was actually going to leave. I hadn’t meant it. I was just pissed, sick, and tired. People gave me what I wanted when I asked them to, but not her. Her kindness was throwing me for a loop. I didn’t know what to do when someone was nice to me without any real reason to be and didn’t have to be. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything, either. I don’t know when it happened,

but I must have fallen asleep because I woke up. Abby was gone. I sat up, I was groggy and sort of tired, but the pain from the night before was mostly gone, and I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up. I started getting up when I stopped, seeing a piece of paper with my name on it, handwritten. I sat down to read the note. Nate, I had to leave for work. I didn’t want to wake you. You did great last night; call me at the front desk when you wake up. Abby. She stayed, I thought. Why was she even still talking to me? I remembered what I had said to her. I would have punched myself in the face if I was her. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I owed her an apology. And a thank you. I looked for my phone to check the time before calling the front desk. The room was clean, I noticed; she must have arranged that, too. Already too much, I thought. I needed to start paying her or something. She probably wouldn’t take it, though, because that was the kind of person she was. Too good for me. That might have been true, but if she had seen me last night and still wasn’t done with me, I wasn’t letting her go. I sat on the couch with the phone and called the front desk. “Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Four Seasons Lanai, you’re speaking to Abby. How may I help you?” she said picking the phone up. “What did you tell housekeeping after they found my room trashed two days in a row?” I asked, smirking. “Mr. Stone, I trust you’re fine this morning. How can I help you?” she said. “What did I tell you about calling me that?” I said, laughing at her professional work voice.

“Yes sir, I can certainly make arrangements to take you around the island today. Come to the front desk when you are ready to leave.” I stopped. The fuck was she talking about? “Is there anywhere specific you would like to visit?” she asked. Oh, of course, someone must have been listening to her. Her boss was probably there, and she wanted to make him think I was asking her to take me out again. “Is your boss there? Let me talk to him,” I taunted her, smirking. “We can definitely make the trip there and back before sundown,” she said, answering a question I hadn’t asked her. This was so funny. I didn’t know she had a sneaky streak in her. “Is this your way of making me leave my suite again? Let’s go back to that beach we went to yesterday and fuck in the sunset again,” I said. I heard her giggle a little before clearing her throat. “One hour? Of course, sir. Everything will be arranged,” she said before hanging up. One hour. More than enough time to shoot up before I have to leave, I thought. I still felt a little sick, and I had time. If I took just a little, she probably wouldn’t even be able to tell I was high. I’d made it through last night, though. It would have been a shame to throw that away. How about it, I thought, do this one thing for once that you can be proud of yourself for. I put the phone down and in an hour was downstairs ready for my day with Abby.

Chapter Eighteen Abby “I could have sworn that we were sitting right here just last week as you told me how much you wished you didn’t have to be the one who was, and I quote, ‘babysitting Nate Stone,’” Makani said to me as I hung the phone up. I shot her an apologetic glance. I wasn’t going to hear the end of this, and I knew it. She had managed to squeeze what had happened the night before out of me, and I knew I’d have something else to tell her when I saw her again that night. Provided we did actually see each other. Nate had gone from barely leaving his suite to completely monopolizing my time. The thing was, I wasn’t even mad about it. Part of the performance had been for Joseph’s sake, to make him believe that I was going above and beyond as a proud member of the Four Seasons staff to accommodate a special guest. The other part had been for Nate, but mostly for me. I wanted to spend more time with him. If I put the sex aside and just focused on Nate as a person, I liked him a lot. Last night had scared me, and his words had hurt, but I couldn’t get over how it felt to watch him fight and win against something that loomed so large in his life. He had fought, and he hadn’t given up, no matter how hard it had gotten. I could only imagine how hard it had been for him. He could have chosen the easy way out, staying sick, but he hadn’t, and that was extremely commendable. That right there told me about the kind of person that he was and the strength that he had even when he was suffering. Guess there was something to my fangirl crush, after all.

“Are you about to tell me something about being careful and not letting him get to me because this can’t be permanent?” I asked her. “Looks like I don’t have to because you’ve already thought about it,” Makani smirked. “I was about to say you owe me for all the hours you’ve made me man this desk alone.” I smiled. “Can I repay you in gratitude and goodwill?” I tried. “How much of my rent can I pay with that?” she joked. “How about a full play-by-play of what happens today?” “That’s more like it. Go have fun,” she said. “Your choice of partner could have been better, but you deserve to relax a little.” “Thanks, Makani,” I said. I started for the back to get changed. “Oh, Abby,” she called. “Yeah?” “He is a guest, and he is going to leave. Just don’t let yourself think that that day isn’t going to come,” she cautioned. I nodded and went to the changing room. I wasn’t going to forget. I knew that. I wouldn’t have gotten myself into being his tour guide today if I had forgotten. This was… It was a lot of things. I cared about Nate, and I wanted to help him with his addiction; and that meant the less time he had alone to think about using, the better. I was sure he didn’t have sex with all his tour guides, but I didn’t have sex with all the guests. We had something, a connection or whatever, but it didn’t have to make things complicated. Maybe we’d talk about it today. No, we definitely had to talk about it. I got into a pair of shorts and halter top before making my way up to Nate’s suite. I

knocked on the door. We had just been on the phone, and he sounded like he was okay, not like last night. Still, I was nervous which Nate was about to come to the door. He pulled it open. He wasn’t dressed. He was still in the same thing he had been wearing when I had left him: a towel. He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Abby.” “Are you ready, Mr. Stone?” I asked, looking pointedly at the towel. Clearly, he wasn’t. He opened the door wider letting me walk in. “Thanks for telling your boss you wanted to take me out today,” he said. “Listen. About last night… I was a mess.” “Mm-hmm, I was there. I remember,” I said smiling. I wasn’t mad, but he looked apologetic. “I’m really sorry about what I said to you. I can’t even say I was loaded or anything. I was an asshole last night.” “Don’t apologize.” “I mean it, Abby. I-” “Really, Nate. If I were mad, I wouldn’t have asked to see you again today. Just forget about it. If you’re really sorry, what you need to work on for me is getting up closer to sunrise than sunset,” I said walking into the bedroom. “Have you eaten already?” “I want to make it up to you,” he said. I walked to the couch finding the clothes I had left there for him before I had left that morning. Same as the day before: dark jeans and a long sleeve shirt. We really needed to do something about that. He looked crazy walking around in seventy-degree weather dressed like the Grim Reaper. “Then hurry up and get dressed. We’re losing daylight,” I said, giving him the clothes. He took the clothes, coming closer to me.

“Thank you,” he said. He kissed me lightly before walking over to the bed and starting to get dressed. I left the room that time. We were probably past that kind of modesty, but I liked to think that I was at least trying to be professional. He was done quickly, and we were on the road again, right after grabbing a swimsuit for him from the gift shop. The place we were going today didn’t have swimmable waters, but I couldn’t take him to another beach dressed in his mourning gear. He didn’t ask me where we were going when we got on the road. He just let me take him. I kept glancing over at him as I drove, just to make sure he was all right. The night before had been…interesting. I had read up on what withdrawal did to people so I knew that even though he was sitting there, looking fairly comfortable, he was most likely very uneasy. Had he done anything when I was gone? I wondered. Had he used at all? I didn’t like thinking that he had done that when I was gone, especially since he had managed to get through the night. But if he had, well, today was another day. We got to the beach and into our swimsuits. He had been really opposed to getting the swimsuit, but I managed to finally convince him, telling him that he was embarrassing me. He wasn’t, I had only been teasing, but it had worked. He had let me pick it, and I had only gone with a pair of board shorts because getting him a speedo would have just been taking advantage of him. He’d get a lot of stares in whatever he was wearing. I had seen him naked before, but he wore the hell out of the board shorts. I had gotten him a blue pair because that had been the darkest color they had. They sat pretty low on his hips. He was in great shape, muscular but not in that weird, gross way that bodybuilders were. Tall and built. Wide, broad shoulders, but trim in the waist and hips. He was lean,

and his tattoos were dark on his lightly tanned skin. He had the kind of body men tried to build in the gym. I noticed both women and men checking him out. Not going to lie, it made me feel a little proud that he was there with me. It wasn’t a date or anything, and we weren’t together, but we weren’t just a tour guide and tourist anymore. We had passed beyond that, for sure, but I wasn’t sure as to what. The beach was smaller here than at the resort. We were at Shipwreck Beach, named after the famous WWII ship that had wrecked off its shore. It was more of a lookout than a beach where people came to lounge, but it was a pretty cool sight to see. It was almost fully above water, and the elements hadn’t completely laid waste to it. There were ruins of ancient civilizations on the island, and even though the ship was nowhere near as old, it fit the ruggedness and historic feel that the island had. I looked over at Nate as we walked the trail to the sand. “There, isn’t that better? Now you blend right in.” He smiled wryly. “I looked like an asshole, I know. I wasn’t wearing it because I thought it was comfortable,” he said, raising his left arm. His track scars. Of course. “Think anyone will believe me if I say they’re mosquito bites?” he asked me, sarcastically. I had a scar I wasn’t proud of either, but the difference was I hadn’t given my scar to myself. “Nobody’s going to be paying close enough attention to notice,” I reassured him. “Doesn’t matter if they see them; I know they’re there.” “Are you going to wear long sleeves your whole life?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking about getting them covered, the whole arm,” he said. “I would have already, but my tattoo guy would never forgive me for shooting dope into his artwork.”

“I’m sure we can head somewhere with fewer people; come on,” I encouraged him. “Can’t take me anywhere, huh?” he said, jokingly. “Not even when you let me,” I shot back. He chuckled. “Come this way,” I said, walking away from the rest of the people on the beach. The beach wasn’t that big, but people were concentrated around the wreck viewpoint, which was a raised, rocky area close to the water’s edge. Further away, on the sand, we wouldn’t get the best view, but his comfort was more important than an old, rusty boat. “There it is,” I told him, pointing towards the ship from where we were. “How old is it?” “It wrecked during the Second World War. The wind makes the water between here and Molokai, which is the island you can see over behind it, really choppy. There are a lot of reefs, too. Many more ships possibly went down here.” “Huh, you guys must have a lot of ghosts,” he quipped. I laughed. “Maybe a few,” I said, looking out at the wreck. “I hope they’re friendly.” “What, like Casper?” “Yeah,” I said. “Like Casper. They’ve been hanging out here since the war, and they just want to see what’s changed. See if they can make new friends.” “You know Casper is the ghost of a dead kid, don’t you?” he said. I was about to say that he wasn’t when I thought about it. “That’s so dark,” I laughed. “It’s true,” he said, smirking. I smiled at the thought of him enjoying cartoons. He probably had as a child. It was sort of nice. It was humanizing, thinking about him in more

and different contexts. He was an entire person; I had to remember that. This Nate, the one who was just a guy on vacation had all but completely replaced the image I had had of him as a celebrity in a band. I was really glad that I had gotten myself into babysitting him again. Anything that helped him with what he was going through. Besides the thing about his scars, he seemed pretty all right. “Are you okay?” I asked him carefully. “It’s been a day and a half,” he said, knowing exactly what I was referring to. “On a scale of one to ten? Ten being the worst and one being fine.” “Four and a half,” he said. “I guess it helps that the stuff’s on the other side of the island and I couldn’t get to it no matter how much I want to.” “Did you… When I was gone, did you… You know,” I stammered, not liking how accusatory I sounded. “Did I shoot up when you were gone this morning? No. When I called you, I’d just gotten up. I’m not even really sure where my kit even is,” he said. “That’s good,” I said, brightly. “That’s one way to put it. I’d never make you watch me doing that. It’s sort of rude shooting up with company…unless you offer them some too,” he said lightly. “Are you scared you’ll use if you’re alone too long?” “I know that is exactly what will happen,” he said. “I was serious when I said I wanted to help you.” “I know that. I’ll keep telling you it’s a bad idea until you finally believe me.” “I still want to help you. We can do it together if you’ll let me help you,” I said.

“Just a head’s up, I’m sorry for every horrible thing I’m going to continue to say to you while I’m dope sick.” “Thanks,” I said smiling. “I forgive you.” We watched the water for a few minutes. There was a turtle shuffling around in the shallows. “I was thinking of something,” I said, looking at him. “Hit me.” “Since you’re most likely to use when you’re alone, I was thinking we should make sure you don’t have too much time on your own.” “When I said you were babysitting me, I had been kidding,” he said, smiling at me. “You don’t need a babysitter, just support. Someone to talk you off the ledge when you feel like you might go over.” “You’re right. I’m just giving you a hard time,” he said. “You’ll probably do a better job of keeping me out of trouble than I will anyway.” Yeah. I would. That was what I wanted to do. Make sure he kept himself out of trouble. I wasn’t suggesting we spend more time together because I wanted him to myself. No. That was so unprofessional; he was a guest at the hotel I worked at. It was my job to make sure his stay was as comfortable as possible. That was what I was doing. If that meant spending extended periods of time together, then that was a sacrifice I was happy and willing to make. I showed him the ancient petroglyphs, and he took a few pictures before we headed back to the hotel. He really needed to start getting up earlier; it was already evening when we got back. He had walked into the building before me. I was on my way to the changing room when I stopped, realizing he hadn’t gone straight up to his suite. He was at the front desk, talking to Makani and Joseph.

That’s odd, I thought. What were they talking about? I walked over slowly, not wanting them to stop talking. “Abby is with us every summer. She’s a favorite with the guests. Nothing but good things to say about her,” Joseph was saying. I smirked, enjoying the praise since there was no way he’d openly praise me like that if I was alone. “I’m another happy customer. She’s been accommodating and helpful since I got here. Her knowledge of the island is impressive, as well. I’d like if she could continue as my personal guide while I’m here on the island,” Nate said. My eyebrows shot up. Yes. Yes, this was perfect. I continued my quiet approach till Makani noticed me and was the first to say hi. “Abby, we were just talking about you,” Nate said, smiling, looking over at me. “Mr. Stone wants you to be his personal guide for the remainder of his time with us,” Joseph said. “I’m happy to help in whatever way I can, Mr. Stone,” I said. “I’m always available here at the front desk.” “Wonderful,” Joseph gushed. I wanted to laugh. Nate could ask Joseph for anything, and he would give it to him. I smiled politely, trying not to give away how excited I was. I didn’t have to spend hours away from Nate wondering whether his craving had overcome him. What made me even more excited, though, was the fact that I was getting to hang out with him more. Just the two of us. I knew it was early, but this was so new, and it already felt so deep. I knew what I felt for Nate, beyond wanting to help him. I loved that feeling of raw intimacy and closeness we had shared on the beach. I couldn’t wait to experience that with him again.

Chapter Nineteen Nate It was day six. A record. This was the longest number of consecutive days that I had not put any drugs in my body. According to the sites that Abby had read, I was probably still only just halfway through detox, but I was already feeling a lot better. It probably wasn’t even that good if I was comparing it with how normal people felt every day, but I was coming off an addiction. Every minute I wasn’t throwing up with a headache was good. Abby might have had something to do with that; she probably did. I was getting more clean, fresh air, sleeping full nights, and eating regular meals again, but I didn’t hate having her around. She was great. She used a hands-on approach, and it worked. We’d spent every single night together in my suite. I knew where she lived and that it was no problem for her at all to get there every night, but the company was good. Her company specifically was very good. I liked having her around. Most of the time, she was gone when I’d get up. She woke up so early, all the time. I knew she had to for work, but I didn’t get it. I think I’d rather find a different job. That morning, I woke up while she was shuffling around the room getting dressed. I watched her for a little while. She slept in my t-shirts, and her nipples poked through them because she didn’t wear a bra to sleep. They looked a hell of a lot better on her than they did on me. She was pulling it over her head to put her bra on. That tight little body was doing great things for my recovery. Back when I was

touring with Remus, I had had no problem pulling chicks. Groupies practically begged us to let them give it up. When I was using hardcore, chasing tail had pretty much gone out the window. Being a junkie was like a full-time job. You couldn’t do anything when you were using because when you weren’t using, you were just thinking about and planning for the next time that you were going to use. Abby wasn’t like that, though. It wasn’t cheap and anonymous with her. It was fantastic. She was as sexy as she was beautiful, sweet, and caring. Even if I wasn’t trying to distract myself from using, I’d still absolutely go after her. Her pussy wasn’t like the antidote to my addiction. I was still going a little crazy, and the withdrawal was doing ugly and painful things to my body, but it would probably be a lot worse if she wasn’t supporting me. I wished there was something I could give her to say thanks. Something told me she wasn’t looking for the shit I’d usually been able to impress girls with in the past. She was so nice, she’d probably decline anything I tried to give her, saying just helping me was enough of a reward. We needed to keep her somewhere safe under glass because that kind of honest sweetness had to be something that was running out in the world. She was rare. When would I ever meet someone like her again? I watched her pull a pair of shorts over her ass. She hadn’t put her uniform on. She glanced over at me and jumped a little, realizing I was awake. “I was trying not to wake you,” she said. “I thought you hated how late I sleep in,” I said. “Go back to sleep. I just need to go clock in at work,” she said.

“Are you coming back?” I asked. “Yes. Wait for me here. I’ll come back,” she said. “Your boss said I could have you as long as I wanted.” “This is why I wanted to leave while you were still asleep,” she said walking over to the bed. She kissed me on the forehead and ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll be right back.” I watched her leave the bedroom and heard her close the door behind her. Oh, right. She was still working. She still had a job. I was the one on vacation. She wasn’t. That isn’t very fair, I thought. Even if nobody was forcing her to be here with me, she was still working. She just did shit for me all day, what the hell had I done for her? I wanted to give her something. What did she like? I got out of bed and looked for my phone. I went to the living room, looking for the pamphlets Abby had dropped off what felt like so long ago. There had to be something in there that we hadn’t done together. Not exploring, not a beach or a historical sight, something else. I wanted to go out with her. A date. I wanted to spoil her. She didn’t have to worry about picking a place and making sure I liked it. She could let that be my problem for once. I was just getting off the phone with the restaurant when she came back into the room. I was out on the deck. She came into the bedroom looking for me with a tray in her hands. “I brought food,” she said sweetly. “Bring it out here,” I called. She walked over, and I took the tray from her, putting it down on a small table out on the deck. I pulled up two deck chairs for us. It was a really nice day, warm and sunny without a cloud in the sky. I had seen dolphins in the ocean as I had talked on the phone. She pulled the cloches off the plates. She’d brought eggs, bacon, toast, pastries…a

little of everything. “I thought I’d find you asleep again,” she said, nibbling at a croissant. “I’m trying something new,” I said. “I’m not really as tired anymore. It’s great.” “That’s good news.” “Mm-hmm, now you can get off my back for sleeping so much.” “That’s only a bad thing when we have somewhere to go,” she laughed. “Did you have somewhere in mind?” “Nope,” she said. “I think we’re running out. Did you want to go somewhere specific?” “Yes. I want to take you out,” I said. “Where?” “Dinner. I made us a reservation.” “You don’t need to make reservations here; you’re a guest.” “Not at the resort. It’s a surprise,” I said, smirking. “That’s my line,” she said, smiling. “I thought I was the tour guide here.” “You’re off duty today. We can leave around ten.” “That’s a little late for dinner,” she remarked. “Not tonight. In a couple hours. I love those shorts on you, but you can’t wear them where we’re going,” I said. “Where is it? Now you have to tell me. Is it somewhere fancy?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, eating my breakfast. The tables were turned now. She used to drive me crazy not telling me where we were going when she’d take me out. She waited

for me to get ready, and I called a car to take us into the city. This wasn’t LA. We weren’t exactly spoiled for choice when it came to places to shop, but that was sort of a good thing. I didn’t know how Abby would be in a boutique, but just in case she was one of those girls who didn’t know when to stop when you gave her a credit card, it was good there were just a few places we could go. But really, I owed her so much more than a dress and some fucking shoes. I wouldn’t stop her if she really wanted to cut loose. She deserved it. She had put up with my ass without a single complaint for weeks now. She definitely deserved it. “What are we doing here?” she asked, when we got to the store. “The place we’re going tonight has a dress code,” I said, holding the door open for her. “I want you to get something.” “I can’t afford this place, Nate.” “It’s on me. Pick whatever you want,” I said. She ran her hand down a dress hanging on a rack to her right, sighing. “You don’t need to do all this. Taking me out somewhere is already too much,” she said. “I want to, Abby. Just let me do this for you. I want to.” She bit her lip, thinking. “Just one. The cheapest they have.” “A whole outfit. Shoes and accessories, too. Budget is unlimited.” “Nate,” she whined. “Okay, two outfits,” I said, taunting her. She made a cute frustrated face. “You’re making fun of me.” “You’re throwing my generosity back in my face. That hurts, Abby,” I said,

dramatically putting my hand over my chest. “It’s too much.” “I’ll decide when it’s too much,” I insisted. I picked a dress off the rack nearest to us. It was pink. It would look good with her tan. “I like this; try it on,” I said, holding it out to her. She took it and checked the price. I saw her eyes widen. “Is everything all right?” a cheerful shop assistant asked, coming over to us. “Can we get that in her size please?” I asked. “We’re celebrating tonight, and I want her to wear something special.” “That actually looks like it might fit,” she said, taking the dress from Abby. I smiled smugly. “Go to the dressing room, and I’ll pull a few more for you. Is there a certain style you’re looking for?” “Nothing too over the top,” Abby said. “I want every guy in the room to lose their minds when they look at her,” I said. The shop assistant laughed and said she’d see what she could find. Abby was frowning up at me. “I can’t take all this from you, Nate,” she said. I cupped her face and kissed her softly. “You’re not taking anything. I’m giving it to you. If I had my way, I’d buy up this entire store for you. You gave me my life back, Abby. I owe you the world for that. Let me buy you a fucking dress. Please. It’ll make me feel like I deserved any single minute that you’ve spent with me.” She chewed on her lip before finally conceding. I kissed her forehead and let her go to the changing room. She let me pick for her. She was getting really flustered and overwhelmed with all the different choices; it was cute. The one I picked eventually was short, with no sleeves, and

was white with these big, bright, pink flowers over it. Her legs looked amazing in it — of course, she was a knockout in everything I had ever seen her wear — but it reminded me of her personality: bright and beautiful. I convinced her to get ready in my suite with me, suddenly getting a little nervous. It started to feel like a real date, like I really wanted to impress her. This was more than just a thank you. I wanted her to know what she’d done for me and this was the only way I knew how. The restaurant was at an old, restored plantation house that had been turned into this countryside lodge. Abby had been trying to guess where we were going the entire short trip from the hotel. She never did. It wasn’t really her scene, I realized. She worked at a five-star resort, but she was so detached from the world that the people who stayed at places like that belonged to. From my world, I guess. It was nice, I guess. I knew now as an adult that not everybody had gotten to live the way that I had, and not everybody’s father was Nathaniel Stone II, but this sort of scene was my everyday reality. I was lucky I had managed to stay this way so long, but like anything you experience long enough, it became sort of regular. Boring almost. Not for Abby, though. If she liked it, then it was good. That was all I wanted. “I can’t believe you got a reservation here; it’s so expensive,” she said, taking my arm as we went up the stairs to enter the building. “Have you been before?” “Never. I’ve heard about it a lot, though. It’s incredible,” she said, looking around the lobby at the furnishings and decorations. Yeah. It was pretty nice. I liked how much she seemed to like it. Looked like she was

one of those girls who I could impress with shiny things, after all. It wasn’t gross and gold-diggerish with her, though. She seemed genuinely impressed that I had brought her here. Like if I had gotten her a ring or something, she’d thank me and say it was beautiful. She wouldn’t take it to a jeweler to figure out the karat value and tell her friends, that sort of thing. I liked it. She was so unspoiled. She’d managed to get to her twenties somehow without becoming completely jaded and cynical. Maybe by the time I was heading back to LA, some of that will have rubbed off on me. A maître d’ greeted us at the door of the restaurant and led us inside. I heard Abby’s breath catch as we stepped into the room. I smiled. It was perfect. I had asked for the entire restaurant. I had had to talk to three different people before they finally agreed to do it. I had asked for low, scattered light and one table. The light coming from the ceiling fixtures was warm and gentle, and around the room were standing lanterns, so it was like the sort of light you got a sunset, but inside. “Oh my God,” she said quietly. “Do you like it?” I asked her. She looked at me, and she had tears in her eyes. “You did this?” she asked. I nodded. “I wanted to say thank you. It’s not enough. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me, but it’s something. I wanted to take care of you for once.” “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Say you’re hungry so we can eat,” I said. She laughed and let me lead her to the table. I pulled her chair out for her and sat across the table. The waiter came in quickly to take our orders. I ended up ordering for Abby, getting us the same thing because she had tried to get herself the cheapest thing on the menu. Wasn’t happening tonight.

“When did you plan all this?” Abby asked. “When you had left this the morning. They were closed, but they let me talk to the manager.” “Why did you book the whole space?” “Because I wanted to,” I said nonchalantly. “One table would have been more than sufficient,” she teased. “Next time we’ll go to the McDonald’s drive through, how about that?” I asked. She smiled and looked down at her place setting. “I’m sorry. I love it. I’ve just never done anything this grand before.” “I’m kicking myself for not doing this with you earlier,” I said. “You do this sort of thing often?” she asked. “Only with people I care about.” “Must be nice to live like this sometimes,” she said lightly. “It’s not everything.” She raised her eyebrows. “No?” “You know how they say money can’t buy you happiness?” I asked. She nodded. “It’s not quite true. It can give you stability, luxuries, and pay for experiences that could give you a lot of joy. It can even get you a wife and buy you friends, but if it does, then they’ll be gone as soon as the money is. “It can be really isolating and turn you into a different person. My father almost doubled his net worth when I was a kid, but the last time he was truly happy was when my mother was still alive.” “Can I ask when she died?”

“A long time ago. I was just a kid. He stopped getting stuff when she died. He’d get stuff for me, but never really for himself. It was like he only cared about owning and having things when she had been there to share them with him,” I said. My phone, which I had placed on the table, lit up, ringing. I ignored the call. “It must have been hard growing up without her.” “Yeah. It didn’t matter that my dad paid for me to go to private schools and expensive vacations; I was still the kid without a mom.” My phone rang again. I ignored it. “Are you and he close?” she asked. My phone rang again. I turned the sound off and put it in my pocket. “We are. He’s great,” I said, distractedly. “You should take the call,” she said. “No, not during dinner.” “If they’re calling you like that, it must be important.” “No. It’s not a big deal. I’m turning it off.” “Really,” she said. “Take it. I can wait.” I sighed, getting up. “I’ll be right back,” I told her. I walked outside and looked at my phone. Oh, Kirsten, you always had the worst timing, I thought, calling her back. She picked up before the first ring. “Nate?” “Kirsten, this better be because someone died,” I snapped. “Nate, why weren’t you picking up?” “Because I’m busy. Because I don’t want to talk to you. What do you want? Hurry up, I have somewhere to be.”

“Somewhere to be? I know you’re not working, Nate; where do you have to be? The beach? The bar? Do they have nice shooting galleries in Hawai’i?” “The next time you want to call me, don’t.” “I don’t know if it’s smart to discourage the only woman who’ll still talk to you.” “Who told you you’re the only one?” I challenged. She was silent for a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Whatever you called me to say, hurry up and say it. My date’s waiting.” “Your what?” she scoffed. “You’re on a date? Right now?” “Tick tock, Kirsten.” “Wow. I knew I had to get away from you when you started drinking, but I really dodged a bullet.” “What do you mean?” I asked frowning. “I mean, you’re coming back to Los Angeles. Is the girl a tourist?” she asked. I was quiet. “Oh, of course she isn’t because you would only go for someone you know you have no chance of running into again once you leave.” “This is none of your business, Kirsten.” “It isn’t. I guess I just wish I was surprised to hear it. You, using a girl during your vacation knowing that you get to come back here and forget about her in a couple months. That’s classic, Nate.” “Are you done?” I asked through gritted teeth. “So sorry for interrupting you during your date,” she said sarcastically. “It wouldn’t be that bad if she was in on it, too, but something tells me that she isn’t.” I hung up, not wanting to hear anything else from her.

Fucking Kirsten. What had I ever seen in her? We weren’t even friends. She had been my longest relationship, and I knew that the reason it fell apart was because of me. She was a bitch, but she probably knew me better than a lot of people did. But she wasn’t here, and she didn’t know Abby. There was no way she knew anything about this. What was happening between the two of us? What even was it? We were hanging out. She was helping me detox. We were spending nights together, and we’d had sex. I didn’t know what kind of label I was allowed to put on that. Nothing, I guess, but did Abby think it was nothing, too? I liked her. She was great. Happier and sweeter than most people I’d met in my entire life, but she lived here. I was leaving in a couple months, and she was going to stay here. I wasn’t using her. I wasn’t making her think that this was something it wasn’t — something that could last a long time — because it wasn’t. She knew that. She had to know that. I slid my phone back into my pocket and walked back inside. Abby smiled at me from the table. Oh God. She didn’t know that. “Everything all right?” she asked. “Yeah. It was just someone from LA. I’ve been silent lately; they wanted to make sure I was okay,” I said vaguely. It felt horrible lying to Abby, but I had to do it. I wasn’t going to tell her that my ex-wife thought I was using her, or that, even worse, I thought I was using her, too. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Abby didn’t want anything for dessert, so we were able to leave quickly. She tried to talk to me during the ride back, but stopped when she noticed I wasn’t really in a chatty mood. I was mad. If Kirsten hadn’t called me, I

wouldn’t be thinking about this shit. I wouldn’t be on a date with a beautiful girl trying to think of ways to let her down easy. Why’d Abby tell me to take the call? Why did I fucking take the call? I could have turned the phone off. I could have just told her that we were on a date, and I wasn’t going to let someone interrupt us. It was done now. I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. I couldn’t just unhear what had been said. It wouldn’t stop being true even if I chose to ignore it. When we got back to the hotel, we went to my suite just like we had night after night before that. She walked right into the bedroom because that was where we had been sleeping together and took her heels off. “That was amazing, Nate; thank you so much,” I heard her say, following her into the bedroom. I nodded. “I’m glad you had a good time.” “Is everything okay? How are you feeling?” It was routine at that point. She’d check in with me multiple times a day or when she felt I was off to make sure my symptoms weren’t too bad. “I’m fine. Just tired.” “Oh, well, that’s too bad,” she said walking over to me. She put a hand on my chest and another on my shoulder, running it down my arm. “I was hoping we could stay up a little while.” She leaned in and kissed me. “We shouldn’t,” I said. She looked up at me. “Are you feeling sick?” “No, Abby. I mean we need to stop. I think it would be better if you went back to work.”

“My shift is over today. I don’t have to leave until… Oh,” she said, realizing what I meant. “Yeah.” She frowned a little and took a few steps back. “Did I do something?” “I’ve kept you here long enough,” I said, not really answering her question. “I know my way around the island, and I’m clean. You can leave.” I saw something flicker in her eyes when I said that and wanted to take it back. “If that’s the way you feel,” she said quietly. She bent down and put her heels back on. “Can I ask why?” “We have no reason to spend all this time together anymore.” “All this time together? You asked my boss whether you could have me as your personal guide. You asked me to stay here with you, and now it’s too much?” “It’s enough. I haven’t used in days. That’s what you wanted to do, right? Make sure I stopped?” “It’s easiest to relapse while you’re still detoxing,” she protested. “And since I know that, I know it won’t happen to me.” “Are you serious? Why are you doing this?” “Doing what? You were helping me get off my drugs, and now I’m off. I don’t need you anymore.” I saw how hard that one hit her. She was speechless before she walked past me and grabbed her bag, heading for the door. Good, if she’s upset, she won’t come looking for me again, I thought. I hated it, but leading her on was worse. This way, she would leave and hate me enough not to come back.

“I’ll tell Joseph tomorrow that you’ve had a change of heart,” she said, opening the door. “Don’t bother. I will.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “I wish you’d tell me what I did so I could apologize,” she said. “If I did, would you shut up and leave already?” I snapped. She glared at me and stormed out of the room, closing the door loudly behind her. “Fuck,” I said going back into the bedroom. I got to the bed and fell onto it backward. “Fuck!” It was the right thing. It was wrong leading her on. Just breaking it off was the right thing to do. I had done the right thing. It was hard now, but it would get better. It fucking had to. Kirsten had called me a bad person for leading Abby on. Why didn’t I feel better now that she was gone?

Chapter Twenty Abby If I just kept my eyes closed, I could go back to sleep. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was morning, and it was early. I knew that for sure because my body was wide awake, and I had been trying to get back to sleep for the past half hour. I had tried sleeping on both my sides and my stomach, keeping my eyes closed, but it hadn’t worked yet. I wasn’t tired, I knew that, but how did other people do it? Just stay in bed even though it was time to get up? I didn’t want to get up. I was trying to mope. The last time I had seen Nate was Friday, and I had spent all of Saturday doing my best not to run into him by accident. I’d made the mistake of finally getting him to come out of his hotel room, and now I got to pay for it because I didn’t want to see him. Come on, Abby; there’s no way he’s in bed right now rehearsing what he’s going to do on the off chance that he sees you today, I tried to convince myself. Of course, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the one who had been left hanging. He wasn’t the one who had begun to think that this had been deeper than it had really been. I had done it to myself. I had nobody to try to peg the blame on but myself. I’d told myself things that he had never said or promised me. I had let myself believe promises he had never made. This was why I didn’t do this. It was risky, and it was stupid. There was no way to win. There was no way to save yourself from feeling like this. It would always happen: whether it was small or big, you always got hurt.

I rolled onto my stomach. Face down. At least I wasn’t crying anymore. I heard a knock at the door. Squeezing my eyes shut tighter, I ignored it. It came again, louder that time. I knew who it was, and part of me was dreading seeing her. I dragged myself out of bed and went to let Makani in. “Hey,” she said, carefully stepping inside. “We haven’t had a date in so long. I at least expected breakfast,” I joked halfheartedly. She gave me a smile and didn’t push it. I walked directly back to my bed and burrowed under the blanket. I heard her walking around for a bit before her footsteps approached. “Scoot over,” she said, climbing onto the bed. I uncovered my head, seeing her sitting on it with two steaming cups of coffee. “I know it’s bad if I’m out of bed before you are,” she said. I took the coffee and sat up against the headboard, scooting down so she could sit next to me. “You sleep in all the time, I don’t know why it’s a bad thing when I do it,” I said, sipping the coffee. “Because you haven’t missed a sunrise in your life. Can you tell me what happened?” she asked. I took a couple long sips of my coffee. “You were right,” I said, looking down into the creamy liquid instead of at her. “Right about what?” “I let myself get carried away. I shouldn’t have expected anything of him.” “Did he say something? What happened?” “He took me out to dinner,” I started. She nodded, remembering. Yet another day I had bailed on her to go pretend with Nate. “We spent the entire day together. He bought me a dress and had booked this amazing place for us to have dinner that night.”

“He took you on a date,” she said. “He said it was to show his gratitude for me taking him around the island, and I should have believed him,” I sighed. “We’re there, and it’s gorgeous, but he gets this phone call. Someone keeps calling him, and he keeps turning it off because he doesn’t want to take it. I told him he could because it might be important if the person was trying that hard to get in contact with him. “He leaves, and when he comes back, and it’s like someone poured cold water over him. He was so distant and distracted the whole dinner. We got back to his suite, and he says he thinks it would be better if I went back to work.” “He asked you to leave?” “He didn’t ask me anything. He told me he wanted me to leave. He basically said he didn’t want me there anymore. It would have been one thing if he just didn’t think I should sleep in his suite, but he wanted me gone. I thought…” I paused because it was the first time I was admitting it to myself out loud. “I thought that maybe there was something there. You don’t need a tour guide to sleep in your suite with you. We used to sleep in the same bed. We even-” I stopped and shook my head because I felt I was going to start choking up. “You feel like he broke up with you,” she said. “Everything was so good, Makani. It was great and then out of the blue after he takes this mystery phone call, he tells me to fuck off.” “I’m sorry he did that to you, Abby,” she said. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up if he doesn’t even have the decency to tell you why he did it.” “You wanted to know why I don’t date? This. This is why,” I said. “In a couple months, he’s going to leave, and you never have to see him again.”

“Yeah, but I still love his band. That’s going to be a problem.” “How about we do something tonight?” “I don’t feel like going out. You go.” “Let’s stay here, watch some movies, and have a girls’ night,” she suggested. I drank some more of my coffee. It wasn’t hot anymore. “Do we have to watch rom-coms?” “Of course. It isn’t a girls’ night if we don’t,” she said, grinning. “Can I pick?” I asked. She agreed and pulled me out of bed to eat some of my leftovers for breakfast before going to work. The day wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good. It was just hours of thinking every tall man with dark hair was Nate, and then panicking, and then calming down when I found out it was not him. That and wondering what he was doing, where, and with whom. Wondering whether he was shooting again, trying to tell myself it was none of my business since he had told me he didn’t want my help anymore, and then circling right back to worrying again. Was he giving you this much thought, Abby? I asked myself. I couldn’t just turn it off. I still cared about him, even if he didn’t care about me. I was tired by the time we were clocking out, something that rarely happened. Makani sent me home before she left to shop for our provisions. I spent the time she was gone browsing for good movies to see. I had always thought 50 First Dates was funny before I came to Hawai’i; that wouldn’t do it. I needed something really sappy. The Notebook or better; that was the only thing that would give me a good enough cry to get over him. Makani brought the snacks. Saturated fats were the only thing that could fix this, or at least give me a food coma bad enough to forget. We used my laptop since I didn’t have a

television. We discussed the pros and cons of each movie I had selected before we chose The Proposal to watch first. I liked a good rom-com. Everything always worked out, and in the end, love conquered all. The romantic in me wanted to believe it, but I had doubted ever being able to find something like that for myself in my life. Not where I was now, at least. I’d pull myself out of this; I just needed about a straight month of nights in with Makani, and maybe I’d feel okay again. “I can’t believe she fell for him,” Makani said watching Sandra Bullock lose every shred of common sense she had over Ryan Reynolds. “I know,” I said, eating another spoonful of ice cream right out of the carton. “She could do so much better,” Makani said. “He was her assistant.” “Should have paid attention to the terms of her visa,” I tutted. “Could you imagine? Marrying a guy for citizenship?” Makani said dramatically. “Like Canada’s a barren wasteland or something,” I laughed. That felt good. Maybe it was a little hostile to attack the girls on screen for falling in love, but it made me feel better about what I had made the mistake of doing. I hadn’t fallen in love, it hadn’t gotten that serious, but given more time and more nights with Nate being that open and sweet, who knows what might have happened. Maybe it was cathartic for Makani, too. She had her whole thing with Keno and as far as I knew, she hadn’t spoken to him yet – even though she totally wanted to. We were sort of in different boats, but I could still empathize with feeling bitter about someone else’s happy ending, even if it was just in a movie. We decided against The Notebook at the last minute because it was too much of a bummer, but got through two more Kate Hudson movies before we turned in. We had

work the next day, but Makani stayed over. I was glad she did. Was this what it was like for Nate? I wasn’t trying to compare me trying not to think about him to him trying to stay clean, but now that the light was off and Makani was asleep, I couldn’t help wondering how he was. It wasn’t all for nothing. Even if I wasn’t helping him anymore, he was still taking care of himself. At least, I hoped he still was. Whatever that phone call was, I hoped it hadn’t pushed him back into using. I didn’t have to be part of the equation for him to be healthy. I just hoped that if he was done with me, he at least kept his sobriety.

Chapter Twenty-One Nate When you’ve been sick long enough, you stop noticing that your body hasn’t been working right. Being sick becomes your new normal, and when you’re not sick anymore, it’s like a shock. You don’t know what to do with all the energy you suddenly have or all the full nights you’ve been sleeping with no problem. Twenty-two days. I wasn’t detoxing anymore. I was clean. Obviously, not as clean as I had been before I’d ever done dope, but as clean as it was possible to be as a former druggie. That’s right. Former. I’d kicked it. Was it too early to start calling myself recovered? I felt recovered. I was writing music again. I felt stronger. I was waking up earlier; I mean, shit, I’d been up before nine almost every day the past two weeks. Everything was great. It was like I was on drugs again, but I wasn’t. I was clean. The dope had put this weird fog over everything, and now that it was gone, I felt like I had never noticed how beautiful everything around me was. I swear to God, it was like someone had put a new coat of paint over the entire world. It was new and bright, and I fucking loved it. I felt great. I wanted to do things again, things that didn’t involve getting loaded and passing out. I felt like I could finally think. My mind wasn’t zapped, doped up, and cloudy. I was on vacation, in paradise, and I was off the drugs. Whether I had known it or not, it was like the drugs had been my biggest problem, and now I didn’t have it anymore. It

was perfect. Mostly perfect. I had been sober when I had told Abby that I didn’t want to see her again, and I knew that I had not imagined the look on her face when she left. The last thing I had told her to do was shut up and leave me alone. I had wanted her to leave, and it had worked. That was a lie. I had wanted to make myself feel better about the fact that I was going to leave. I did want her to stay. I wanted to share this with her. I wanted us to hang out without thinking about when I could get my next fix and her not having to worry about whether I was feeling sick. Was there a better way to let someone know you didn’t want them than just straight up telling them? Even if it was a lie? I had been avoiding the front lobby like the plague. I wanted to see her, so fucking bad. I wanted her in my bed again. I wanted to fuck her, but I’d want that when I was back in LA, too, and this vacation was over. I wasn’t here to start again; my life was in LA, and I was going back to it. This was her life. She was staying here. I couldn’t see her, but that hadn’t meant that I’d gone into hiding for the past two weeks. It was hard to get around the hotel without going through the lobby, but I had managed to go back to the Garden of the Gods a few more times. Abby had mentioned that I had to see it at sunset, and she had been right. It was like entering another dimension when I was there. The rocks looked like they glowed in the light of the sunset. It was amazing. It also maybe helped me feel a little closer to her since I couldn’t actually be close to

her. There was that, I guess. I felt a little nostalgic about it. I remember feeling like I wanted to kill her that first day she forced me out of my suite to go there, but now, I remembered it sort of fondly. It was morning, but I wanted to leave the suite. If I took the stairs instead of the elevator, then I wouldn’t go by the front lobby. Being in my suite alone all the time wasn’t that appealing anymore. I walked towards the bar because if I was hanging out with anyone, it might as well be a familiar face. It was early, so Keno was there by himself. He was wiping a glass when he saw me. “Hey, Keno,” I said first. “Nate, it’s been awhile. I thought you went home, brother,” he said. “I’m here all summer.” “You look different,” he said. “I’ve been making some healthier choices lately,” I said, smirking. “You’re not drinking today?” he asked. I shook my head. I didn’t need it. I felt good. “How have you been?” I asked him. “Good. Busy. That’s how it is every summer when you guys come to the islands.” “I bet you can’t wait for us all to go back where we came from.” “As long as you buy a lot of drinks before you go,” he joked. I laughed. “It’s easy to forget I don’t actually live here,” I admitted. “Not looking forward to going back?” he asked. Wasn’t that the fucking truth? “I’m on vacation while I’m here. When I go back, I gotta work,” I said. A version of the truth, but not the whole truth.

“Better make the rest of your time here count, then. Before you know it, you’ll be on that plane back,” he said. I nodded. “I gotta get out more,” I said, laughing. “Listen, I’m going on a hike after my shift. You should come.” A hike? I’d never gone on a hike, not on purpose, at least. I lived in LA, but it wasn’t really my scene. I preferred the gym. Since he had offered, though, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Abby wasn’t taking me anywhere anymore. Might as well, right? “Sure. That sounds great. Thanks.” “The guys here at the hotel could hook you up with some gear if you don’t have any. Just check the island adventure center.” I thanked him and said I’d meet him later. I took his advice, getting myself some real hiking boots before meeting him at the entrance of the hotel, where a car took us out to the city. He said the trail we were doing was the Munro Trail. It was a lot of forest and there were some pretty serious elevations, he warned me beforehand. It was all good. I could take a climb. I felt like I could do anything since getting off the dope. The trail began beyond the city and went up behind it. I had started working out a lot more since I had quit, so it wasn’t that hard. The island was so small I could practically see where it started and where it ended. Plus, Keno was cool. He was good company. He was no Abby, but I wanted very different things from her than I wanted from him. He told me he had lived on Lanai all his life and was going to die here, too, as far as he was concerned. It was sort of embarrassing hearing where he had come from. We had had very different lives. I felt like a little Richie Rich asshole who’d been coddled my whole life. He lived in a small place in Lanai City, but he’d done it himself. I knew what it meant to be my father’s son. I knew how much clout my last name

carried. It was part of the reason why I hadn’t followed him into business. Money made misery easier; it didn’t make you happy. Even if you wiped your tears with Ben Franklins, you were still crying. What was that like? Being in the same place all your life? I’d had a passport since I could talk. Besides moving to LA from San Francisco, I had been around the world, most of the time just because. Just to travel. Was it because he couldn’t? Or because he didn’t want to? It seemed so limiting to me. “You’ve never left this island? Are you fucking serious?” I asked him. “I’ve been to Maui, Molokai, Kauai-” “You’ve never gone to the mainland?” “Nope,” he said lightly. “Why?” “Why would I? I live here.” “You’re surrounded by people who’ve traveled here from different places. You never wanted to go somewhere yourself?” “I’ve thought about it, but it’s not that important to me to try leave. I don’t want to leave. There are things I want that I want to get for myself; that’s just not one of them.” “I could never do it. I mean, I came here, didn’t I? I like being able to leave if I want to.” “You have something to run away from,” he said sagely. “Or you’re just not in the right place.” “If you had my life, you’d know why I had to run,” I told him. We trekked in silence for a few minutes.

“Can I ask you something?” Keno said. “Sure, what?” “What’s going on between you and Abby?” “Nothing,” I said truthfully. “You had a lot of questions about who she was dating,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was accusing me, but he was onto me. “I wanted to know,” I said shrugging. “Did you go out?” “No… Well, sort of. It was just a few times, and she was basically just taking me on tours around the island. It wasn’t that deep.” “You like her,” he said looking in front of him. “She was all right,” I tried to say, flippantly. “If she was all right, then what happened?” “Nothing happened.” “Something happened. Otherwise, you’d still be hanging out with her. I know you’re only here because you two aren’t talking anymore,” he said. “It’s not like that,” I started, defensively. “Nate, it’s not a big deal. I know how it goes. What happened between you two?” “I couldn’t do it to her anymore. When the summer ends, I’m going back to LA. She’s staying here.” “I think she knows that, brother.” “It’s not right. I can’t make her believe this can be a real thing and then just up and

leave at the end of August.” “You didn’t want to hurt her?” “Yeah. I mean, it’s shitty leading her on like that. It’s better if she doesn’t have any expectations. Then, I can’t disappoint her.” “I can see why you did it, but, tell me something, are you happier that you did?” he asked. “What?” I frowned. “Are you happy with that decision you made to cut her off?” “No. I liked hanging out with her. She’s a great girl.” “Do you think she’s happy about it?” “Definitely not. I think she hates me for what I said to her.” “Love’s a scary thing, but you can’t be scared of it,” he said. “Whoa, who’s talking about love?” I asked. “I’m just saying,” he said. “Love makes its own decisions. It’s a mystery, it can take you anywhere. Make you do anything.” “I’m not in love with Abby.” “I never said you were,” he said, looking over at me. “So what’s your point?” I asked, angrier than I wanted to sound. “My point is you made that decision for a reason, but if it isn’t making you happy, then maybe it’s not a good enough one.” I thought about it. Love? He had to slow the hell down; we weren’t doing all of that. We had slept together a few times. We weren’t in love. “By the way, if you’re willing to torture yourself and her because you’re afraid to hurt

her, you are in love,” he said. “You’re single. I’m supposed to take your advice why?” I asked. He laughed. “I’m not single because I want to be. I don’t have a choice. You don’t have to be single. You made that choice.” I thought about what he had said the entire way back to the resort after the hike. Maybe he was onto something.

Chapter Twenty-Two Abby This was my fourth summer at the Four Seasons. I loved my job and the position it put me in to meet new people every day. Never in my four years had I thought that my job was boring. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even that now. There was always someone new or something new happening. It was not boring. It was just normal now. The weeks I had gotten to spend close to Nate were behind me now, and if I tried, I could pretend that nothing had happened. It helped that I hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t called the front desk. He must have locked himself up in his suite again. If that was what he had done, then, oh well, that was what he wanted to do with his time. It was callous to say he wasn’t my problem anymore, but I realized around four days in when I had still been feeling like shit, with Makani’s help, that there was a difference between mourning and moping. It had been about two weeks now, and I was feeling better. I’d let myself feel deeply for Nate in the short time that we had been in contact, but that was over now. Other things had begun, and other things were going to keep happening. Simply put, I had to move on. I had stuck my neck out for Nate and put my heart out there. This was something that he didn’t want, and even though that rejection had hurt, all it signaled was the end; it didn’t erase everything that had happened. The summer wasn’t over yet. It was fine if he wasn’t part of it because there were so many other people who were going to be. I wasn’t so distraught that I couldn’t work anymore. I’d been spending most of my

time back at the desk with Makani, but today I was outside, on tour duty again, and this was a little different. Rayleigh and Hank had just gotten married and were here for their honeymoon. In the time it had taken me to show them around the resort, barring the golf course, they had managed to give me an entire rundown of their gorgeous wedding and how it almost hadn’t happened. They had meant to have the wedding and the honeymoon at the Four Seasons, but a mistake booking had meant they thought they were getting married in Hawai’i before they had called to confirm their booking. They were a young couple from Texas; they hadn’t had to tell me because I could hear their accents. I didn’t think I sounded very Texan since moving to Lanai, but when I would hear people who were, I heard my accent slip out a little when I spoke to them. I loved the weddings we had on the island, but honeymoons were the next best thing. It was nice to think you were part of this experience the couple would remember forever. Rayleigh and Hank were following me back up to the resort from the beach, which they had asked me to show them: the end of their tour. They had fallen slightly behind me, holding hands and whispering to each other. “Abby?” Hank called. I stopped walking and let them catch up. “Yeah?” “Hey, you might get this a lot, but I mentioned it to Ray, and she said she sees it, too. Have you ever been on television? You’re awfully familiar.” I felt ice run up my spine, but cleared my throat, giving them my practiced, professional smile. “Maybe someone should put me on television. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who have asked me,” I said jokingly. He laughed, making me relax. “We were just convinced we had to have seen you somewhere.”

“If I was on television, someone still owes me a check,” I said lightly. His wife caught up, and I sent them on their way, returning to the lobby and getting behind the desk. That could have gone horribly left, I thought. I hadn’t had to lie to a guest like that in a while now. It wasn’t something I liked having to talk about, but like my neck, I had to. I guess I always ran the risk of being recognized by someone who might have heard about my father on the mainland and was here on vacation, but I had time and a new name on my side. Most of the time. I got back to work, sitting down next to Makani. She told me she was going to the bathroom and left, heading to the rear, near our changing room. I looked at my computer for a while before glancing up. A tall man with dark hair caught my eye, and I admonished myself for thinking it was Nate. I looked twice and froze. It was Nate. I wasn’t imagining anything. Fuck. I was alone behind the desk; I had to talk to him. My heart started pounding, and my throat dried out. We hadn’t talked since he had told me in as many words that he was done with me. Seeing him walking towards me, I felt the resentment I had tried to bury beneath my work and being busy rearing up. I looked down and steeled myself for the conversation as he approached. This was still my job. I’d tell him what he wanted to know and he could leave. What was so important that he had left his room to say it instead of calling, though? I thought despite myself. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stone,” I said stiffly, giving him a detached smile. “How can I help you?” “Please stop calling me that,” he said, smiling. His complexion was alive and bright. He looked rested and peaceful; he looked great. He was a handsome guy anyway, but he looked healthy like he had managed to stay off the drugs.

I had to stop myself from asking because as it stood between us now, I wasn’t his friend…or anything else for that matter. I was asking him as an employee of the Four Seasons how I could make his stay more comfortable. “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked again. “Actually, yeah,” he said suggestively, raking his eyes over my face and body in a way that made me start to sweat. “I want to see you tonight.” “I’m sorry, the resort forbids personal relationships between the staff and guests,” I said dismissively. “Do I have to find your manager and get him to make you come out with me?” “Is that what you would resort to in order to get me to see you when I clearly don’t want to?” “Come on, Abby. Stop acting like we just met.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m doing my job, Mr. Stone.” “I want to apologize for the past couple weeks. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you. I want to talk.” I allowed myself to look in his eyes. “No.” “Abby,” he pleaded. “I can’t give you that if that is all you’re looking for. I’m working. You know the limits to what I can and can’t give you within those boundaries.” “I know I fucked up. Let me fix this,” he said. I shook my head. “How could you come back to me asking for that after telling me to leave you alone?” “I made a mistake.” “‘I don’t need you anymore,’” I said quietly. “Those were the words you said to me.

You made your mind up, and after that, I made my mind up, too. If there is nothing I can help you with, please leave.” “You don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean it as much as you did. I didn’t hound you after you told me to leave you alone. All I want is the same respect,” I said looking back down at my computer. He was silent for a moment, but he didn’t move. “I’m sorry if what I said to you made you hate me. Don’t shut me out when I’m trying to apologize to you.” I shook my head again. “You shouldn’t have come here to talk to me knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop you. Please leave. This is the last time I’m asking,” I said. I kept my eyes down because I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I heard him hesitate before finally leaving. I sighed. It was ragged and long; I had been holding my breath. Goddammit, Nate, I thought, touching the corners of my eyes to catch the tears before they started falling. “Abby?” I jumped at hearing Makani come back behind the desk. “Are you okay? I heard what you said to him.” “I’m fine,” I said. “Hey, if you need a little time, it’s okay,” she said. I shook my head, sniffing. I didn’t want to go to the bathroom and cry like he and I had broken up. That wasn’t what it was. We hadn’t been together in the first place, so there was no good reason for me to feel like I had lost him. He was never mine. It just sucked. Why did he have to choose today to come and see me? I was finally

feeling normal. He was finally starting to matter less and now, I had to start again from scratch. And then what he said? He wanted to see me again? How dare he. How dare he act like he hadn’t told me to fuck off. No. No way. I couldn’t do it. There was a good reason I didn’t put myself in this position with anybody, and this was it. “I’ll be fine,” I said hollowly to Makani. Still, I felt her watching me the whole day. She didn’t believe me. I didn’t either.

Chapter Twenty-Three Nate Keno might have been kidding about that comment he made the other day on our hike, the one about me hanging out with him because I was on the outs with Abby, and it might have been true at the time, but things had changed since then. He was a cool guy; I wasn’t sure if I was giving him enough credit. There was no other way our paths would have crossed than if I hadn’t come to Lanai. On top of that, if things were different and he lived in LA, I don’t know whether he’d be the sort of person I hung out with. I didn’t have friends. Not real ones, anyway. Your friend wasn’t someone who only had something to say to you when there was something you could offer them. They just liked you. Keno might have been becoming my friend. I felt like Abby was my friend, in a lot of ways. She cared about me. She went out of her way to do stuff for me. She didn’t let me keep hurting myself when I wanted her to. I didn’t want to be her friend, though. Not just her friend. Keno could be my friend. I wanted her to be more than that. How much more? It wasn’t worth asking since she wanted nothing to do with me now. I came to the bar more often now, but not to drink in the morning like a crazy person. It was pretty early, but there were still some people lounging around the pool when I passed by it to get to the bar. I said hey to Keno, seeing him in his usual spot. He asked me what I had going on today. Nothing, as usual. “I was going to head out to the beach. The waves look good today,” he said.

“You want to swim?” “Surf,” he said. “You’re coming with me.” “I don’t know how to surf,” I said. “You’re still coming with me,” he announced, coming around the bar. “You mean right now?” “No time like the present,” he said. “Can you just leave? Aren’t you working?” “Hawai’i is the freest state in the US; you can do whatever you want here,” he said, laughing. Shit. Okay, if he said so. I was down. I hadn’t spent much time at the resort’s beach, but I looked at it from my suite every day. I had seen people surfing. I had never done it a day in my life, but why not? Keno was cool. After giving me a Surf 101 lesson on the beach on our rented boards, we went out on the water. It was a lot harder than he made it look. I watched him more than actually managing to do it myself, but it wasn’t a bad way to spend a morning. He sat on his board and paddled over to me. “I don’t know if this is my sport, man,” I said. “You should learn. Girls love it,” he said, laughing. Since he had brought up girls… “I talked to Abby the other day,” I told him. “That’s great. How’d it go?” “Not good,” I admitted. “She refused to talk to you?”

“No, it wasn’t that. I went to talk to her at her desk. I asked her to go out with me. She gave this bum excuse about not being able to see guests personally. That isn’t true, is it?” “Whether it’s true or not, that was a really convenient time for her to bring it up,” Keno remarked. “I fucked up. I want to see her, and she won’t even give me the time of day.” “You miss her.” “I just want to see her again. It wasn’t fair, what I did to her. And it didn’t even do anything. I still feel like shit.” “I don’t know what you’re waiting for, brother,” Keno said. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you don’t have to do this to yourself.” “I already tried to talk to her. I have to try something else. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” “How long will that take?” he asked. “You said it yourself: you’re leaving, she’s staying here. You only have so many days till you have to get on that plane.” “You want me to go to her house and refuse to leave until she agrees to talk to me?” I asked, getting frustrated. “You remind me of a story I heard once about a man. He was like you, a good guy. He had a good life and he was happy, but he was missing something. He was alone. He wanted a woman, a wife he could spend the rest of his life with. He knew his life was good the way it was, but he couldn’t help thinking and dreaming about the life he could have when he finally found her. “So he started planning for it. He started planning the life he was going to have when

he finally found the woman of his dreams. He planned everything: the home they would build together, the family they would raise, even the conversations they would have together, every day for the rest of their lives. He wanted everything to be perfect when he finally found her, but there was one problem. “He planned for so long, it was all he could think about. He never did all the things he planned to do. He never took time away from his planning to go out and actually find the woman he wanted in the first place. He died with nothing but his big book of plans.” I looked at Keno, pausing because I was sure he was about to keep going. The hell kind of story was that? He died alone in the end anyway? “He didn’t get her in the end?” I asked. “He was focusing on the wrong thing. Instead of going out to get his girl-” “He spent all his time figuring what he would do when he got her,” I said. “What does that have to do with me?” “You’re him, Nate. Or you’re going to be if you let yourself spend all your time thinking about what you could have with Abby, instead of going out and getting her. You’re leaving, yeah, but you know what? You’re here now. You need to act now and stop planning.” “Was that story supposed to make me feel better?” I asked. “No. It’s supposed to warn you. You’re focusing on the wrong thing, brother. You’re thinking about that girl when you could be kissing her.” “I can’t just go up to her without thinking about what to do first.” “Just watch how long you wait,” he said simply. “Watch how long you make her wait, too.” I thought about that while watching him catch a wave. The story had been cool or

whatever, but just telling me to hurry it up before she got over me would have worked just as good. Would have taken a lot less time, too. He was a talker, that guy. He had a lot of stories. He was completely right, though. It sucked and it was a little embarrassing, but he was right. What I wanted was Abby. If I wasn’t careful, I would make it to the end of my vacation without ever getting her. We stayed on the water a little while longer before heading back up to the hotel, me to my suite and Keno back to work. I took a shower when I got there, finding my way over to the piano after. No more planning, I thought. A plan’s useless unless it actually gets you what you want. The music came to me before the words, and finally I was writing. No more planning.

Chapter Twenty-Four Abby I attended every single luau that the resort held during the peak season. I had to for work, of course, but I still would have even if I didn’t have to work. I was still waiting for the events to get old and staid from the number I had been to, but they still hadn’t. The performances were the most important part of the night, but the party atmosphere and the energy were always electric. Being around people who were having a good time was a good time to me. Besides doing the lei greeting, I got to hang out and socialize with the guests, which was always a great time. Some of them would recognize me from the front desk and strike up conversation. That was the thing about talking to people: they didn’t want to be treated like someone you couldn’t talk to; they wanted to be treated like human beings. This was good for me. I felt secure with all the people around me because that meant he would be harder to see, and it would be harder for him to see me. I never wanted to feel that way about anybody, but I wasn’t foolish enough to hang onto something that he had said to my face was not something he could give me. It was good to be hopeful, but some things weren’t worth risking your heart over. I smiled seeing Hank and Rayleigh walking into the luau, their first since they’d checked in. I waved, and Rayleigh waved back, seeing me first. I liked them. There was the fact that they were from Texas, which was something I felt connected us a little. Also, they were on their honeymoon — the time in your life that is literally dedicated to nothing but happiness and fun.

“How are you guys tonight?” I asked them as they came closer. “Great. This is amazing,” Rayleigh gushed. “You guys are early; you can pick some good seats,” Makani told them from next to me. “Abby warned us how packed these get; she’s been such a great host since we got here,” Rayleigh said, looking over to smile at me. I smiled back. “Dinner starts in about fifteen minutes; have a great time, guys,” I said. I put a lei over Abby’s head as Makani gave one to Hank. The stream of people coming in had thinned to a trickle, and none of them had been Nate. Good, I thought. I could breathe tonight. We moved closer to the stage when the performances began, watching from the sidelines. I stood by Makani listening to the host introduce the first act. There were enough seats at the tables, but some people preferred to stand, especially when they weren’t having anything to eat. A small group of guests was standing with us, watching the show. Somebody brushing against my shoulder caught my attention. I looked over. It was a guy, smiling down at me. “Hey,” he said. “I’m Trent.” “Abby,” I said, introducing myself. He was tall and blond, with long wavy hair. He was in a t-shirt and board shorts, not that much older than I was if I had to estimate. “What are you drinking tonight, Abby? It’s on me,” he said. “Nothing tonight. I’m working.” I smiled politely. “You gotta clock out at some point,” he said flirtatiously. He was right. I was going to clock out and go home tonight. I could have taken that opportunity to invite him over so I didn’t have to spend the night alone, but I was good. What the hell had happened the last

time I had gotten too close to a guest? “I’m going to have to pass,” I said apologetically. I could see he was disappointed, but he was nice about it and moved on. I thought vaguely about when I would be ready to get out there again and see people. It wasn’t like it was urgent. I knew I’d feel a huge weight off my shoulders once Nate left, but still, I wasn’t in a hurry. I’d just pick better next time. This experience with him would have been for nothing if I didn’t end up learning something from it. The crowd erupted into applause. I had missed the entire first performance zoning out and talking to that guy. I had to stay present. Nate isn’t in his suite doing this, I told myself. It was over now, and since it was, I had to be over it, too. I joined the clapping, hearing the host announce that there was an extra performer that night. “Did you know this was happening?” Makani asked me. “No,” I said, shaking my head. Luau performers were always booked well in advance because ours weren’t the only ones they performed at. I watched the stage, hearing the audience clap again as Nate walked on with a stool in one hand and a guitar in the other. I felt my heart drop. Oh my God. “Do you need to leave? I can cover for you,” Makani said to me. Yes. I wanted to get out of there. He was the performer? I couldn’t watch this. I didn’t want to stand there and listen to this. I was trying to get over him; his music took me right back to feeling sad and abandoned by him when I heard it. I hadn’t listened to his band since we stopped talking. The part of me that was like those stupid girls in the movies who didn’t know when to let go wanted to stay. He was such a talented musician. If I didn’t get him to myself, couldn’t I have him like this?

“Hi, I’m Nate,” he said. “I came here after my band broke up back in Los Angeles. I didn’t think I’d make music again, but I met someone really special here on Lanai who changed my mind. This song is for her,” he said. Stop it, I thought. He isn’t talking about you. “Abby?” Makani said. “I’m fine,” I said tersely. I hadn’t meant to snap, but I needed to hear this. He began playing, and I held my breath, realizing it was the first time I was hearing him live. He started singing, and my jaw dropped open. He didn’t really sing in Remus; he did a lot of the backing vocals, but mostly played and wrote. I knew what he sounded like, but I’d never experienced his music like this. I’d never imagined this being the experience of hearing him play his music live. His presence on stage had everyone there completely enraptured; I knew it wasn’t just me, but I felt in my gut that he was telling me something. I knew that the two of us had connected during his time here. I knew I wasn’t making that up. What had happened had happened, and it still meant something, even if we had stopped talking. I tried to lock my eyes with his; he was scanning the audience as he played. Maybe he couldn’t see us very well. The stage was lit, but the rest of the luau was probably dark from where he was. But then he saw me. As our eyes locked, I felt like nothing had happened. He hadn’t said horrible things to me, and I hadn’t asked him to leave me alone. He looked away as he strummed the final chords of his song, looking up again as the audience broke into applause. I lost sight of him because of the number of people that were on their feet giving him a standing ovation. I clapped furiously. That was so good. I felt Makani touch my arm.

“You know that was for you, right?” she asked. I shrugged, but I was screaming inside. I wanted to see him. I wanted to tell him how well he had done and that I was sorry. “Where did he go?” I asked her. She pointed over to the side of the stage where Nate was talking to Keno. I saw them look over a couple times before they started heading towards us. Oh my God, he was coming over. What the hell did I tell him? All my initial bravery fizzled away. I didn’t want to run, though. I couldn’t do that again. I grabbed Makani’s hand, so she didn’t even think about bailing and leaving me there. “Abby,” she complained. “I’m not doing this alone,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can’t talk to him,” she said. “Then don’t. You don’t have to say anything. Just stay right there,” I whispered. I watched the men walking over to us. My heart started pounding. Think, Abby, think, I thought. What was I going to say? He is coming over to me, so he has to speak first. The last conversation we’d had had been so awful. I had been upset, and seeing him again, I had felt insecure and exposed. I had just wanted him to leave because that push and pull was too much for me. Did he or didn’t he want me; which was it? I didn’t want to hear him say he didn’t need me anymore again if that was what he decided after I’d been around long enough to bore him once again. I felt deeply for him, but I was scared, too. Right then, fear had won. I didn’t know what would win this time when he spoke to me. “Hey,” he said to both of us. Keno greeted us, too. The tension between the four of us

was thick and heavy. “Hi,” I said shortly. I heard Makani clear her throat at my side. “Nate, that performance was amazing. I had no idea you were so talented,” she said. “Thanks,” he said, with a small smile. “I haven’t played like that in a long time. I was hoping you’d be here to watch,” he said, looking at me. “You did really well,” I said honestly. “I was also hoping you’d be here so we could talk. I’m so sorry, Abby. I was an asshole. I hate myself for saying what I said to you, and I want to make it up to you,” he said. “Nate, I think-” “She’d love to,” Makani said, interjecting. Nate looked from her to me, waiting for me to either say I was going or I wasn’t. I sighed and nodded. How many more times was he going to reach out to me again? I was upset, but that didn’t mean I had to punish him by turning him down even though I felt the same way he did. “You would?” he said hopefully. “I would, but we can’t just pick up again like nothing happened,” I said. “I know. I agree. I feel like I ruined our last date. I want to take you out,” he told me. I bit my lip, remembering the night that everything fell apart. He had told me to get out of his life, and I had. What had been his trigger that night? I still didn’t know. Something I did know was I wasn’t making the same mistake twice. My guard was up nice and high. It wasn’t going down unless I was sure it was safe. “I will go with you, on condition that Makani and Keno can come, too.”

“What?” she said, “I can’t come on a date with you.” “Fine. Keno will be there, too,” Nate said quickly. “Whoa. I didn’t agree to this,” he said, looking at Nate. “I can’t come if it’s just the two of us,” I said. “Makani,” Nate said plaintively, looking at her. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything for me unless it was extremely important.” She sighed looking at him, then at me. “I’m doing this for Abby, not for you,” she said firmly. “I’ll come if Keno does,” she said. Yes, I thought. This was good. They could finally talk, as well. The three of us looked at Keno expectantly. “You owe me, big time,” he said to Nate. Nate clapped him on the back, relieved. “Thanks, man. Tomorrow night?” he asked me. I nodded. We had a date.

Chapter Twenty-Five Nate “I can’t do this, man,” Keno said, stopping beside me. I stopped and turned to look at him. We were walking down the lamp-lit trail to Abby’s house on the beach. “Come on, we talked about this.” “I can’t do it. I can’t talk to her.” “Abby won’t talk to me unless you’re there. I promised her that it would be both of us.” “You promised her. I had nothing to do with this.” “You can’t tell me you don’t want to see Makani,” I said. “I do, but what the hell am I supposed to say to her?” “The truth. Just be honest. That’s all she wants.” “I don’t want to hear the reason why she left,” he said. “What? Why wouldn’t you want to know?” “Why would I do that to myself? It wouldn’t change anything.” “Yes, it would. If you let her tell you, then you can do something about it,” I said. “How are things between you supposed to change if you won’t even talk to her?” “I want to help you, man, but I can’t take her walking away from me twice,” he said. I sighed, shaking my head. “Look at your options. You don’t go in there, you’ll never get her back. That’s done.

Over. If you do, then you can stop wondering what might have happened if you hadn’t.” Keno ran his hands through his hair, obviously stressed. “This might be it. Your last chance. If you do, then it’s on you.” “Why did I let you get me into this?” he asked himself out loud. “I’m not letting you get out of talking to her,” I said. “You only brought me here today because you want Abby back.” “Abby asked for both of you to be there. She didn’t have to. She could have just asked for her friend to be there. She wouldn’t do that unless she was trying to set the two of you up, too.” Keno sighed. “When you were together, did she ever talk about Makani and me?” “Not really, but they’re chicks, they definitely talk about the two of you. She wouldn’t have asked for you to be here unless she wanted you to finally talk to Makani.” “You don’t understand, Nate,” he said. “What is there to understand? You want her? Go get her.” “I was ready to marry that girl. We were talking about a future together. I wanted her to be my wife. One day we’re talking about it, and the next day she’s gone, and she doesn’t even tell me why.” “That sucks. I used to be married, I know what it’s like when you lose someone you’ve loved for a long time,” I said. “But you can get her back now. Just talk to her. Tell her you still love her.” “This is the last time I’m ever doing you a favor,” he said. He didn’t sound angry. I knew he was just nervous. “It’ll be fine. Come on,” I said, leading the way back down the trail to Abby’s place.

She lived past the luau grounds, right on the beach. The house was the only one there, so it was hard to miss. It looked small. A wooden cabin on stilts with a little porch in the back. We climbed up onto the porch, and I knocked at the door, feeling a little nervous myself. Fucking finally we could stop the bullshit and we could just be together, if she wanted us to, that was. Fuck, I hoped she did. I’d missed that girl. I wanted to be with her. It didn’t matter anymore, any of it — the band, LA, my ex. I might as well leave if I wasn’t going to be with her. She opened the door and smiled at us. She looked amazing. Her hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and she was wearing the dress that I had gotten her. “Hey, guys,” she said sweetly. Keno leaned in and hugged her. I didn’t because that was not what I wanted to do to her in that dress. She probably wanted to take it slow, though. She had asked for a double date. I hoped this would be the last one we had if the reason she had wanted one was because she was scared of being alone with me. “Hey, Keno, Makani’s already inside.” He nodded and walked past her into the house. “Abby, you look beautiful,” I said. “Thanks. You look good, too.” “I’m happy you decided to keep the dress.” “I had to; we never got to finish what we started when I put it on last time,” she said. She smirked, and right then, I hated Makani and Keno for being with us tonight. “Come in,” she said, moving aside so I could walk through the door. I had never been to her place before. It wasn’t far from the resort at all. It comforted me a little that she was actually so close to me. The place was small, but looked cozy. Everything sort of blended into one big room with no real walls or anything separating areas of the house. Makani had sat on an

armchair in the living area, and Keno was on the couch. They weren’t saying anything to each other. I held Abby’s arm, pulling her back gently so I could ask her something. “What’s up?” she asked, turning to face me. “Hey, Keno’s been really nervous about tonight. He’s in love with Makani and really wants her back. I told him that that was the reason you asked them both to come,” I whispered. “She’s been talking about him a lot lately, too.” “Was that why you agreed to let me come over?” I asked, suddenly a little insecure. “No. I mean, yes. But it wasn’t the whole reason,” she said, smiling. “You were right about what you said about our last date. I’d really like a do-over. Makani and Keno… They need one, too.” “He was shitting bricks on the way over here thinking about what to say to her.” “Hey, what are you guys doing over there? You asked us to come so you could ignore us?” Makani called from where she was sitting. “We were just grabbing some drinks,” Abby said, taking my arm and pulling us into her small kitchen. She pulled two bottles of beer out of the fridge, followed by a bottle of wine. She asked me to grab some glasses out of a cabinet as she opened the bottle. “Thank you for giving me another chance to do this right, Abby,” I said. She looked up at me, holding the bottle of wine. “Right after I said you could come, I almost called you to cancel,” she said. “Why?” I asked. Don’t let it be because she regrets what we did together, I thought. “I don’t do this, Nate. You’re the first person I’ve been brave enough to give a chance. I just remember feeling what I felt after we stopped talking and thinking I was just

setting myself up again.” “You’re not,” I said quickly. I held both of her hands; they were cold from the bottles. “I hate myself for what I did to you, but I want a chance to make it right. Just let me show you that letting me back in isn’t a mistake. Let me start with tonight.” She looked up at me, biting her lip. “I just need to know one thing,” she said. “What? Anything,” I said, dead serious. What did she want to know, because I wouldn’t hesitate to tell her. She knew things about me that nobody else knew. That stuff about Kirsten that I hadn’t wanted to say before? I’d tell her anything. Everything. She was trusting me again — I wasn’t fucking hiding anymore. “Have you used since the last time we went out together?” she asked. “No. Nothing. I’m one hundred percent clean,” I said. “Twenty-eight days.” “That’s amazing, Nate. I’m so happy for you,” she said excitedly. “It was you, you know. If you hadn’t stopped me that night when I was throwing up, I’d still be using.” “Don’t sell yourself short, Nate. If you really wanted to do it, then you would have.” I shook my head. “No Abby. You-” “What happened with those drinks?” Makani’s voice cut me off as she walked into the kitchen with Keno behind her. She stopped, noticing my hands, still holding Abby’s. “Are we interrupting?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “No, we were just joining you. Want to grab the drinks?” Abby asked. Keno took one beer, and I took the other. Both the girls wanted wine. We walked back into the living area.

Abby sat in the armchair so the three of us took the couch. Makani and Keno sat on either side of me. “What did you guys talk about when we were gone?” Abby asked Makani and Keno. “Mostly just waited for you to get back,” Keno said. “That would have been a perfect time for you two to sneak away somewhere to be alone,” I said to him. “You don’t invite people on a double date to split up,” Makani complained. “This is the first time we’ve all been together and talked like this, isn’t it?” Keno mused. “The three of us have done this many times. Nate’s the newbie,” Makani said. “Am I being jumped into your gang?” I asked, smiling. “You’re from the mainland; you can’t join,” Makani said, teasing me. “So is Abby,” I complained, not really knowing whether that was true or not. I’d never actually asked her where she had been born, I realized. “She’s an honorary islander. You’re a tourist,” she said. “Abby, help me out here,” I said to her, laughing. “I think a nice game will help break the ice between us,” she said smiling. “Truth or dare.” “We can’t play that; we’re adults,” Makani said. “Makani, I dare you to swap seats with Nate,” Abby said to her, smirking, obviously egging her on. “I pick truth,” she said to her friend, crossing her arms.

“Tell us what your first impression was of Nate when you met him,” Keno said out of the blue. She glanced at him before looking at me. “I thought you were cute,” she said, shrugging. That got Keno’s attention. “Are you serious?” he asked her. “You wanted an answer. That was it. Truth or dare?” “Tell me why you left me,” he said to her. This was the most intense I had ever seen him. “You’ve never known what I wanted,” she said spitefully. “Guys, now is not the time,” I said, standing. “Isn’t that why you got us here together? So we would talk?” Keno demanded. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll get yourself kicked out,” I told him. “Makani and I are going outside; come join us when you’re done,” Abby said, standing. She took Makani’s hand, and they left by the back door. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Keno?” I asked angrily. “Have you and Makani been talking?” he asked suspiciously. “Do you fucking hear yourself? Get a grip.” “I told you I couldn’t do this,” he said, slumping back into the sofa. “Just apologize to her — to both of them — and we can have a normal night,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked her that,” he sighed. “I’m just digging the hole deeper and deeper.” “Yeah, you are. Now get up and go talk to her so you can fix this,” I said. He got up, and we went to the back door. I pushed it open, seeing Abby on the porch.

“Where’s Makani?” Keno asked. Abby pointed towards the water. I could see a dark figure that I guessed was her. She looked like she was sitting on the sand right at the water’s edge. “She’s really upset. She was worried about what was going to happen tonight. If you’re going to be jealous and mean, then don’t go over there,” Abby said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up like that.” “Don’t tell us. Tell her.” Keno looked out at Makani for a few seconds before walking down the porch steps and walking out towards the water to her. “Is she going to be okay?” I asked her. “She’ll be fine. I care about both of them a lot. I just hope they can smooth this over once and for all. Come on. They’ll join us when they’re ready.” I followed her back inside and shut the door behind me. She turned and surprised me by holding my face, kissing me. I held her around the waist, running my tongue along her lower lip, then into her mouth when she parted them. “What was that for?” I asked when we separated. “I’m sorry, too. I turned you away when you wanted to make amends, and that was wrong of me,” she said. “You had every right to be upset,” I said. She took one of my hands and held it in both of hers. “Can I ask you something?” “Anything.” “Was that song you performed yesterday about me?” she asked coyly. I smiled. “Why would I do something like that?” I asked. She blushed.

“I just thought… No, it’s dumb,” she said, embarrassed. I chuckled, cupping her face so she’d look up at me. “I wrote it after Keno convinced me that I was being an idiot for not trying to be with you while I was still here. Did you like it?” I asked. She nodded, smiling. I turned my head hearing the door open. Makani and Keno walked in quietly. I saw his hand on her back, which he dropped once they were inside. Something had gone right. “Is everything okay?” Abby asked Makani. “Everything’s great,” she said, smiling. “I see everything’s great here, as well.” “We were waiting for you guys,” Abby said, leading everyone back to the living room. Keno and Makani sat together and I sat on the couch closest to Abby. “By the looks of things, we should have taken our time,” Makani said. “Nate was just telling me about the song he wrote for me,” Abby said, smirking. That got everyone started. The tension completely died, and everyone was laughing and drinking in Abby’s small living room. Keno and Makani got closer and closer as the night wore on, his arm going around her shoulder, or him kissing her when they thought we weren’t looking. At some point, Makani announced she was going to head home. Keno said he would do the same thing, right after her, agreeing that he needed an early night, too. Yeah right, they’d be on top of each other before they even made it back to the city. He winked at me on his way out the door, following Makani out. I nodded, approvingly. I knew he was sealing the deal. Now it was my turn. We were finally alone. I’d been thinking about this for weeks. Abby closed the door, locking it. She turned around to face me. “How much do you bet one of them isn’t going to make it home tonight?” she asked,

smiling. She was happy for her friends. “About the same that I’d bet I’m not making it back to my suite tonight,” I said. She bit her lip and looked down. “Do you want me to leave?” I asked. She shook her head silently. “Are you tired?” she asked me. “Show me where you sleep,” I told her. She walked towards me slowly, taking one of my hands. She pulled me towards her bed, stopping right in front of it. She turned and sat down, facing me. Her legs were crossed, which raised the dress even higher up her legs. “I’m so glad you wore that tonight,” I said appreciatively. “Are you? I don’t know. It’s a little tight,” she said. “Yeah?” “A little uncomfortable, actually,” she said smirking. It fit her like a glove, but she was up to something. I went with it. “Then take it off.” “I want you to take it off for me,” she said seductively. Her eyes were hot, and I knew right then that was my in. I walked over to her. She pulled her legs onto the bed so that she was kneeling and turned her back to me. I flipped her hair over her shoulder and pulled the zipper down her back. I tugged it down over her hips, and she sat on the bed so I could pull it the rest of the way down her legs. She scooted backward up the bed. “Come here,” she whispered. I climbed onto the bed after her. She got up on her knees and pushed me onto my back, straddling me. She slowly went down the front of my shirt, undoing the buttons one at a time. I tried to sit up and touch her, but she pushed me back down, not letting me lead.

It was hot. Different, but still incredibly sexy. She raked her nails down my bare chest and abs when she had gotten my shirt open. I never let girls top me, but Abby with that look on her face was enough for me to change my mind. I watched her pop the button of my jeans and pull the zipper down. She tugged them down low enough for my cock to spring free. Our eyes locked, and it was over. I was hers tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Six Abby I covered the head of his penis with my mouth and sucked. He felt hot and smooth against my tongue. His head fell back on the bed, and he let out a ragged breath. Positive feedback, I guessed. I had never done this with anyone before. I had never really wanted to. It felt like something really personal to do with someone. I wanted to please him; I wanted to own his pleasure. I wrapped my hand around the root and sucked again, trying to get a little more of his length into my mouth. It wasn’t easy; he was big and thick. He tasted like musk and salt. I felt his hand get lost in my hair, fisting a handful. I concentrated on the tip again, using my tongue to lick around it and over the eye. He groaned, and I felt a soft tug at my hair. I jerked my hand up and down and sucked, hollowing my cheeks out. “Stop,” he said hoarsely. I sat up, worried I’d done something wrong. He pulled me up so I was back on his lap and sat up to kiss me deeply. His hands went around my back to snap my bra open. He squeezed my breasts roughly, feeling them in his hands. I shuddered when he pinched my nipples. I had missed this. I broke the kiss and pushed him back down on his back. “Stay down,” I told him. “I want to make you come.” His eyes were dark with lust, and he looked like he was about to come after me. I could see how tight and tense his muscles were from the strain of not getting what he wanted immediately. I slid off the bed, taking my panties off and pulling at his jeans and underwear so we were both naked. I was wet just looking at him. I hadn’t forgotten what he felt like inside

me, but imagining it alone was nothing compared to having him again. I felt starved, like an animal. I ached to feel him touching the deepest part of me. I quickly went to my closet to get a condom before I climbed back onto the bed and straddled him again. His penis was so hard it lay along his stomach. I watched his face as I ripped the wrapper and slowly sheathed his dick in the rubber. The muscle in his jaw was working, and he was throbbing in my hands. I inched forward, raising off of him and positioning his tip right at my opening. I felt powerful and extremely horny, and I wanted this to last as long as it could. I ran his thick head over my entrance and clit, making it slick and wet. I closed my eyes and moaned. He thrust his hips upward, trying to slide inside. “Not so fast,” I teased, smirking. “Please, Abby,” he whispered harshly. I slid down onto him slowly. His head fell back, and he cursed, fisting the covers. I felt myself stretching to accommodate his size. He fit so tight. I leaned forward against him and ground my hips. My hands went to his chest, leaning into him so I could ride him. I wanted to take my time, but that wasn’t going to happen. He pinched my nipples, making me scream. He thrust upwards powerfully to meet my every move. I could feel my orgasm building, burning like a fire at my core. I leaned back, balancing my weight on his thighs so I could bounce up and down on his cock. I moaned, feeling him fill me even deeper. I was so close, but I didn’t want to come before he did. I sped up my movements, hearing his breathing become erratic and quick. His hands dug into my thighs. “Fuck, Abby. I’m going to come,” he said. I rode him wildly, fucking myself on his cock. He groaned, shuddering below me as he came.

The sounds of his pleasure made me hotter than I had known I could get. I felt his thumb roughly rub my engorged clit, and I was finished. I exploded around him, collapsing forward with a scream. My body spasmed with erotic aftershocks as the wave passed over me. I panted, trying to catch my breath as I lay on his chest. He was still inside me. His hand lazily rubbed my back. This felt right, laying in his embrace after giving ourselves to each other. Everything was here and now and powerful, and we could be present without thinking about anything else. When we were like this, I could pretend this could last. I kissed his chest gently before shifting my weight off of him. “Where are you going?” he asked. “I’ll be right back. I just want to clean up,” I told him. He let me go. I walked quickly to the bathroom and rinsed off under the shower, careful not to get my hair wet. I wrapped myself up in a towel, then took it off. I didn’t want to hide from him. After that? I couldn’t. I had only had a handful of sexual experiences, absolutely due to the fact that I had never really acted on any interest in the past before. I didn’t feel like an inexperienced half-virgin when I was with Nate. I felt alive and powerful enough to ride him and take my pleasure from him as much as I gave to him. I liked feeling wanted and sexy. That was how he made me feel. I walked back outside and quickly grabbed a long t-shirt from my closet before climbing back onto the bed where Nate had waited. He was back in his underwear, lying on his back. He smiled at me as I settled next to him. “Was that your plan this whole night?” he asked.

“What if it was?” “Then I didn’t know you as well as I thought, Abby,” he said with a smirk. “I thought you were innocent.” “Oh, no. Far from it,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Maybe I should leave more often if that’s how you welcome me back,” he joked. “Again. What I said that night… I would give anything to take it back,” he said seriously. I sat up, crossing my legs and looking down at him. “Why did you tell me to leave that night?” I asked. He sat up against my bed’s headboard and pulled me into him so I was leaning on his chest. His big, warm hand rested on my hip, playing with the fabric of the t-shirt. “I didn’t want to. I had been planning this amazing night for the two of us. When we were at dinner, I kept getting those phone calls.” “I remember,” I said. “When I went outside to talk, I told you it was someone from LA. That wasn’t the whole truth. It was Kirsten…my ex-wife.” He paused like he wanted to give me time to digest that. I gently stroked his chest, feeling his fine chest hair under my fingers. “We were married for three years before getting divorced earlier this year.” He paused again, taking a deep breath. I felt his chest rise and fall under my face. I knew that he had had a wife. The relationship hadn’t been that public; no wedding special on E! or anything like that, but it wasn’t a secret that Nate Stone had been married. My focus had been more on his music than his personal life, but some details I had been aware of. I kept quiet, though, so he would keep talking. “She and I… We have a pretty bad relationship. There’s no nice way to put it. She was one of the people I was running from when I came here. She hadn’t contacted me in a

while, but the last time that she had, she had been laying into me, telling me I wasn’t worth shit and that the band was better off without me. “This time on the phone, she was all nice, saying she wanted us to get back together when I went back to LA.” I stiffened, lifting my head to look up at him. “Are you still seeing each other?” I asked. “No. We haven’t lived under the same roof for months,” he said. “I don’t want to get back together with her. I told her to fuck off, that I was on a date. She wasn’t happy about that,” he said, scoffing darkly. “What did she say?” “She called me a bastard for leading you on because I’m leaving the island at the end of the summer,” he said. I lay my head back on his chest so I wasn’t looking at him anymore. There it was. The truth that was somehow a little worse than him simply not wanting me anymore because he was done with me. “You aren’t leading me on. I know you have to leave,” I said. “That doesn’t make it better. I really care about you, Abby. I know I’ve hurt you already, but I didn’t want you to believe I could give you something that I couldn’t. I still don’t,” he said. I sighed, touching his chest. “But you came back,” I said. “I couldn’t stay away knowing I still had you close enough to touch,” he said quietly. “Then that’s all that matters,” I whispered. I closed my eyes concentrating on the feel of him under my hands and warming my body. He was here. Here and now, this moment was what mattered.

I didn’t want to keep having this conversation because I already knew he wasn’t mine to keep. I didn’t need to spend the precious moments that we did have basically planning to lose him. I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to be present in these moments because they were what I’d have to hang onto even when he had left. They were mine. I had them even if I wouldn’t always have him.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Nate Abby was really beautiful when she slept. Since getting off the dope, I had gotten a lot better at waking up early. Today, I had woken up in Abby’s bed, at her place, which I realized I liked a hell of a lot more than waking up in my suite. Though, it was more that she was with me and less the place we were, really. I just wanted to be near her. It had been a long ass time. What the fuck had taken me so long to come back to her? I watched her face. Peaceful and smooth. Really pretty. She didn’t have freckles anywhere else besides her nose and cheeks. This was so creepy. I knew that, but I couldn’t stop. I hadn’t had her this close in so long. My eyes ate her up. The slope of her nose, chin and jaw. I touched her there softly; the soft skin where her throat met her neck. There was that scar. I touched it lightly, feeling the tougher, raised skin. She didn’t seem to have any others, at least none as noticeable as that one. It wasn’t ugly or anything; it was just in a place that was hard to ignore. She moved, exhaling deeply. I watched her face scrunch before she stretched her back and her eyes opened. She squinted, looking up at me before cracking a small smile. “Hey,” she said sleepily. “Hi. Did I wake you?” “Mm-hmm. But that’s okay. I need to be up right now, anyway. I could feel you

touching me.” “Sorry,” I said. “I was looking at this,” I said touching her scar again. “Must have been some accident.” She shrugged from her position down on the bed. “Could have been worse. Could have gotten attacked by a shark,” she joked. “It looks like it really hurt,” I said. She sat up. “It happened a long time ago. Do you have any plans today?” she asked. “I was hoping for a repeat performance of last night,” I said, smirking. “That sounds great, but I have to go to work,” she said, getting up. She went to the bathroom then came back out, walking to her closet. I didn’t take my eyes off her. Watching her get into her clothes was just as good as watching her get out of them. She glanced over and noticed me looking, blushing bright pink before turning her head away. “Can’t believe I lasted a whole month,” I said to myself, looking at her. “You found other ways to keep yourself busy, though, didn’t you?” she asked. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re a hot guy in his twenties. You have the pick of the litter.” I frowned. Did she think I had been seeing someone else? “Abby, I haven’t seen anyone but you since I got here.” “It doesn’t matter if you have. I just want you to tell me. Full disclosure. No judgment. You’re on vacation.” “Have you been seeing anybody else?” I asked. She turned to look at me. “No. You’re the first man I’ve been with in over a year. I don’t expect you to treat me any differently because of that. I just want you to be honest with me.” “I am being honest, Abby. I haven’t slept with anyone else since I got to the island.”

“Why?” she asked. “Huh?” “Why not? Why haven’t you slept with anyone else since you came to the island?” “Because half the time I was too strung out to care, and the rest of the time I couldn’t get it up for anyone but you,” I said. She leaned her back against her open closet, looking at me on the bed. “Why did you come back to me, Nate?” she asked. Her eyes looked scared and unsure. What did she think I did when we weren’t together? “I really like you, Abby. I care about you.” “But we barely even know each other. There are so many things you don’t know about me and I about you.” I stood and walked over to her. “I know you helped me through one of the hardest nights of my life and dealt with me when I was a mean, angry asshole strung out on dope. I know you’re kind and good. You love people, and you do things for them because you actually give a fuck. “I know I don’t know when your birthday is or your parents’ names, but I want to know. I’d like to get to know you better, Abby. A lot better.” She smiled a small smile that was a little sad. She leaned up, cupping my face, kissing me lightly on the lips. She closed her closet and walked over to the back door, shooting me one more smile before leaving for work. Was that a yes? It definitely wasn’t a no. Maybe it had been a little long and she was just scared or something. Whatever it was, she had nothing to worry about. I had already made the mistake of pushing her away once, and I was not a big enough idiot to do it again. I grabbed a glass of juice from her fridge and got dressed, wondering what to do that day. It wasn’t like when I could just steal her away from her job and spend the day exploring the island with

her. We had to do that again. I’d probably have a hell of a better time now that I was sober doing it. Her, too, since she wouldn’t have to worry about whether I was feeling sick. I wasn’t dumb enough to think that I was on top of the world now that I was clean. The actual using was gone, but the desire to do it wasn’t. It was still there, but I was stronger than it, finally. Something had finally become a bigger priority for me than using, and that meant I wasn’t a slave to my addiction anymore. Maybe my optimism would taper off eventually, but I was still feeling really good about things. Even better now that Abby and I had made up. I got dressed and left her house, heading up to the resort and back to my suite. I took a shower and had breakfast before calling a private car company Keno told me about. I barely even had to think about where to go now. I found myself drawn to the Garden of the Gods more and more. It was just a place I felt like my problems couldn’t touch me. The first time I went there with Abby was the first time I remember feeling truly unburdened, and I felt it every time I went after. The trip there could be a little easier, but it was always worth it. It was the middle of summer, and it had gotten a little hotter than it had been when I had gotten to the island. I hadn’t gotten any new clothes, but I cared a lot less about people seeing my scars now. I didn’t really care what anyone thought. It didn’t matter. There weren’t a lot of people around when I got there, which was a good thing. I liked walking the perimeter so I could see that weird contrast between the beach, plants, and trees and the bare red soil of the rock garden. It didn’t make sense, how it was so bare, just there in the middle of a regular landscape, but there it was. I never did shit like this when I was back in LA, even though the option was totally there — hiking and taking walks. Going out in nature to be alone. Nope, that was

something I’d picked up when I’d come to Lanai. Huh. That was odd. It was like here in Lanai, I got out a lot more, I was less stressed, and I was taking better care of myself. Weird. It was like I was miserable in LA and hadn’t realized it till I had gotten here. If there was a competition between the two, LA was losing, big time. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Great. Who was I going to ignore now? I pulled it out waiting to see Kirsten’s name since she was on a roll calling me at exactly the right time to ruin everything. It wasn’t though. It was my father. I put the phone to my ear, happy that he had called. “Dad?” “Hi, Nate, you’re up,” he said, a little surprised. “I thought I’d have to try again later.” I laughed. My days had started after noon for a long time. “Yeah. I figured I was losing too much daylight getting up at noon all the time.” “That’s great. You sound like you’re having a good time.” “Great time actually. You actually caught me thinking about how much I don’t want to come back to LA.” “Gotta come back to work some time,” he said. “Yeah,” I said shrugging, wondering what work even really was anymore. “How are you?” “Busy.” “Maybe you should take a break,” I told him. He laughed. “Maybe I should come there. Sounds like it’s doing you good.” “It is. I actually stopped using about a month ago. I feel great.” “That’s great news, son,” he said.

“Yeah. Maybe before I have to come back, I’ll have all the band shit figured out.” “Just take it easy the rest of the time you’re there,” he said. “You’ll figure it out.” “Thanks, Dad,” I said. We talked a little longer before I let him go to get back to his work. He was the one person on the mainland I actually wanted to see again once I had to leave Lanai. Poor guy. He should have gotten a son who liked wearing suits and working in offices. He was a champ, though. I would have probably self-destructed a long time ago if I didn’t have him. That brought the number to two: my dad and Abby. Everyone else could die in a fire; I didn’t give a fuck. They probably knew the most about me after myself. Abby had nursed me through my withdrawal for fuck’s sake; she’d seen everything. I thought about her at work. Was she busy tonight? I didn’t know. I didn’t know a lot of things. I had just been to her house for the first time yesterday. I knew she had a scar on her neck, was a kind and beautiful person, and what her kisses tasted like, but….that was about it. I didn’t even know her middle name. Where was she born? Did she like peanut butter crunchy or smooth? I wanted to know. How had we known each other this long, and I had never thought to ask her any of that shit? That definitely had to change.

Chapter Twenty-Eight Abby You’re kind and good, Abby. I don’t know when your birthday is or your parents’ names, but I want to know. He wanted to know. He cared enough to want to get to know me. I couldn’t believe I was doing this again, but how could I not? I knew this wasn’t permanent, but what in life was? This was what I wanted, and now I knew that it was what he wanted, too. I wanted to spend time and get to know him, as well. We still had some time and we wanted the same thing so…why not? Just this once, why not? I practically skipped to work, I was feeling so good. I walked straight into the back to the changing room and found Makani there. “Hey,” I said. She turned and smiled at me. “Hey. Did you get the notice from Joseph this morning?” she asked me. “What notice?” I asked. I hadn’t been paying the best attention, I realized. “No desk duty today. We’re taking a group out hiking,” she said. “Really? Cool,” I said, shrugging. I walked over to my locker and started changing. “You’re in a good mood today,” she quipped. “I’m always in a good mood.” “I’d say a little better than usual. It couldn’t be because of a certain guy who I left you with last night, could it?” she asked, grinning at me.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I shot back. “Did you make it home last night?” “His place was closer,” she said shrugging. I laughed. “Okay, I want details,” I said. “Well, when we got there, we talked a lot. We really managed to clear the air and talk about what we both still wanted from each other,” she said coyly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, skip to the good part,” I said. She laughed. “It was amazing,” she gushed. “I swear, I didn’t even realize how long it had been until we were back in his bed.” “Has he picked up any new skills since you were last together?” I asked cheekily. “It was new since it had been a while, but it all felt so familiar. Our bodies just fit, you know? That part of the relationship had never been a problem. It felt like that was what I’d been missing.” “Sex?” “Well, yeah, but not just that. Keno. Him as a person. His jokes, his weird stories, his company. The sex was incredible, but I feel like something bigger happened. I think we reconnected. I think we might be ready to give it another shot.” “He’s been ready to give it another shot since you broke up,” I said pointedly. “I’m ready now, too. You were right about me being scared. But I know what it’s like to be without him now, and I hate it. Whatever happens, I know I want to still be with him.” I smiled. Finally, the Cold War was over. “I’m so happy you guys worked it out,” I said. “What about you and Nate?” “We talked,” I said.

“And then?” she urged. “And then…we made up for lost time,” I said shyly. Makani laughed. “I knew he was going to spend the night. How was it?” “Even better than the first time. I was so upset about what happened between us, and now I don’t even care. I don’t care that he’s leaving. I don’t care that he hurt me. I just want to enjoy him while I still can.” “Does he feel the same way?” “He said he wants to spend more time together. Get to know me. This was exactly what I wanted in the first place,” I said. “Enjoy it. Take advantage of the time you have left. Maybe he might start coming back just to see you.” “I don’t know about all that,” I said sighing, “but you’re right. I really want to do this with him.” “Not that he needs it, but he totally has the best friend stamp of approval,” she said. I smiled, thanking her. “Do you know anything about the people we’re taking out today?” I asked her. She didn’t. It wasn’t a group who had arrived together. It was a collection of people who had just booked a hike at the same time. That was cool; I liked hikes. A lot of people didn’t really think hiking when they thought of Hawai’i, but Lanai had some amazing trails. So much of the island was still rugged and wild. The group we had was a mixed bunch, some older and younger people. For the sake of keeping everyone happy and making sure everyone was okay during the hike, we chose a coastal trail instead of an inland one. That way they could enjoy the beach and coastal

cliffs instead of just forest. The Pu’upehe trail went along Hulupoe Beach and up a cliff where we would be able to see Sweetheart Rock. There were a few kids on the hike with us. They ran ahead, exploring the tide pools and hopping along the rocks usually covered with water when the tide was in. In the group were a few people who were around the same age as we were. Rayleigh and Hank were there, too, but they hung around the back of the pack taking a lot of photographs. I walked with Makani. It was a beautiful day, as usual. Desk duty wasn’t bad, but it was nice to get outside sometimes. I lasted no time at all before I started wondering where Nate was and what he was doing. I sort of wished he had some on the hike with us. He seemed pretty athletic; he’d be able to hack it. A guy in a black baseball cap fell into step next to me. I glanced at him and smiled. “Hey,” he said. “Hi. What’s your name?” “Clay. What’s yours?” “Abby. This is Makani,” I told him. “You checked in this past weekend, didn’t you?” “Yeah. You live here on the island?” “Mm-hmm. Where are you visiting from?” “New York.” “What do you think of Lanai?” “I usually stay on Oahu, but I might be coming back here,” he said. “You should,” I said. “I think I will. I’d love to hang out again.”

“Oh, are you a big hiker?” I asked, dodging the obvious flirtation. “I could become one,” he said. Oh boy, I thought. “When do you get off work?” “Depends on why you’re asking.” “Let’s go somewhere for drinks,” he suggested. “Can’t,” I said apologetically motioning to Makani. “Does she want to come, too?” “No, she’s not going anywhere with you,” Makani said. “Are you together or something?” he asked. “Ding, ding, ding,” I said, laughing with Makani. I only used the island wife excuse when guys weren’t taking no for an answer. There was no truth to it. Honestly, I was interested in Nate, and this guy was doing nothing for me. He left me alone, falling back in the group. We got back to the hotel, walking up from the beach. The group started breaking up since we were on the familiar trail up to the hotel. “Abby?” I heard someone call behind me. I stopped. Makani stopped with me. Rayleigh was hurrying up the trail to catch up with me. “Is everything okay?” Makani asked. “She probably just wants to ask me something.” “I’ll wait over here,” she said. Rayleigh caught up to me with Hank. “Oh, my God. I knew you were familiar when we first saw you,” she said, panting. “What are you talking about?” I asked her. “We know who you are. You’re that girl. We heard the story years ago. Your father

was the one who did all those killings in Texas,” Hank said. My jaw dropped. “N-no. You definitely have the wrong person,” I stammered. “No. Randall McCune. His daughter was the only survivor.” My throat felt like it was being squeezed. No, no, no. How the hell did he find out? How did he know? I shook my head frantically, unable to get any words out. “Abby, could you come with me? Excuse us, please, sir. We have to return to the hotel,” I heard Makani say to Hank. I felt her take my arm and quickly pull me away from them. I let her pull me along like a ragdoll. I felt empty, like someone had knocked me over the head and I still hadn’t gotten my bearings back yet. Makani was speaking the entire way up to the main hotel building, but I didn’t hear a thing she said. We passed the desk and went straight into the employee changing room. She pushed me down onto a bench so I could sit. “Abby, Abby?” she said shaking my shoulders. I met her eyes. She looked worried. “Who told them?” I asked. “I don’t know. They must have found out from somewhere. Are you all right?” she asked. I sighed. Was I? No. I wasn’t. He had said his name. I had tried for years to forget that name. It plunged me right back where it had happened. My father. My mother. Her screaming. Him yelling. The knife against my neck. I felt like I was going to be sick. I shot up. “Where is Joseph?” I asked her. “His office. Why?” “I have to go.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “I just need a little time. I’m okay,” I assured her. “Are you sure?” she asked. I nodded. “I’m coming to your house tonight.” “I’ll call you,” I said. “Abby,” she said. “I’m fine. Just a little shook up,” I told her, trying to convince myself at the same time. “If you don’t call, I’m coming over,” she said resolutely. I nodded. She let me go. I knocked loudly on Joseph’s door. He barked for me to come inside. “Mr. Kalo, I-” “Back already?” he asked, cutting me off. “Yes, sir. I know its short notice, but I have to ask for the rest of the day off,” I said hurriedly. “Today isn’t your day off,” he said. “I know, but it’s an emergency. I have to… I can’t…. I would never ask for this unless I had to,” I said desperately. “What’s the matter with you? Are you sick?” he asked. “I’m just not feeling very good after that hike,” I said. I was barely hanging on, I didn’t want to cry in front of my boss, but I was getting very close to doing just that. “I can’t let you go today,” he said. A sob fought its way out of my mouth before I could stop it. I clamped my hand over

my mouth to stop myself, but I was too late. I was already gone. I bent in half, sobbing. I felt like my whole world had just shattered, and everything I had built for myself in Lanai was going to be ruined. “Oh my God,” I heard Joseph say over my sobs. I heard him move and felt his hands on my back. “Just leave. Take the rest of the day off and come back tomorrow,” he said awkwardly. I tried to speak to thank him, but I couldn’t. He patted my back woodenly, gently ushering me outside. I went back to the changing room and washed my face. God. How embarrassing. I quickly left, not bothering to change out of my hiking gear. I just needed a minute. I’d be fine after a couple hours alone.

Chapter Twenty-Nine Nate It was about lunch time when I got back to the resort. Noon: the time I’d usually be getting up. This was nice. You actually got a lot done when you woke up earlier in the day. Who knew? I wanted to see Abby. Her boss and I had an understanding. I’d just ask him to let me steal her away on a tour of the island or something. He’d let her if it was me. I wanted to start now. We’d go out to eat or something. Or even stay in my suite together and order food up. Go to the beach, stay at her house. Anything. I just wanted it to be with her. I got to the main building, making a beeline for the desk before I stopped short. The person there wasn’t a gorgeous, petite blonde. It wasn’t Makani, either. I slowed down walking over to her. “Good afternoon, sir; how are you today?” she asked me, smiling. “Great. Thanks. Where is Abby? She’s usually at this desk. I need to talk to her.” “Abby isn’t working today. I’m sure I’ll be able to assist you with your inquiry.” “Why not? Where is she?” “I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you. She took the rest of the day off. What did you want to ask her? I’m sure I can help you,” she said. “Where is the manager? I need to talk to him,” I said. I watched her face as she seemed to sit there and contemplate whether she was going to do what I had just asked her to do.

“One moment, please,” she said. She picked her phone up and dialed a number. “Are you calling him?” I asked. She nodded, answering the phone. “Tell him Nate Stone wants to talk to him,” I said. “One moment, sir. I’ll be right with you,” she said to me placing her hand on the mouthpiece. “Let me talk to him,” I said again, louder. I was getting irritated. She listened to her boss on the phone for a few seconds before she looked at me. “Mr. Kalo has asked to speak to you,” she said quietly, handing me the receiver. Didn’t I fucking tell her? I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?” “Mr. Stone. How are you?” “Yeah, great. I need to know where Abby is,” I said, impatiently. “Abby requested to take the rest of the day off,” he said “Why? Where did she go?” “She said it was an emergency. She will be back at her station tomorrow morning,” he said. I thanked him and handed the phone back to the desk girl. I walked away, up towards my suite. Emergency. She had had an emergency. What did that even mean? Where the hell would she go? Something in me hoped that when I opened my suite, she’d be up there. That she’d have gotten one of the people from housekeeping or something to let her in and wanted to surprise me. Would she really lie like that to get out of work just to see me? It seemed a little unlikely, that wasn’t her, even if I sort of wished that was something that she would have

done. She loved her work. I got to my suite and threw the door open, walking straight to the bedroom. It was empty. Spotless, but empty. I checked the other rooms, even the deck, looking for her. She wasn’t there. Stay calm, man. Everything is fine. I was probably just looking in the wrong place. I needed to check her house before I started jumping to conclusions. I went back down the stairs and started down the trail Keno and I had used to get to her house the night before. This was the first place I should have come looking for her, I thought. She was there taking care of whatever her emergency was. I got down to the beach and walked up to her back porch, climbing the short flight of stairs. I banged on the door, knocking. “Abby?” I called. Nothing. I knocked again, calling her name louder. Still nothing. I couldn’t even hear anything inside. I walked around the house and tried the door on the other side. Same thing. Nothing. Shit. She was a grown woman, and this was where she lived, but now I was getting worried. Where the hell was she? I started back up towards the hotel. Her boss had said that she had an emergency, but if that was what it was, why had Makani been gone, too? What was going on? I didn’t want to freak out and then find she had just gone to the store or something. Where was Makani? She was her best friend; she had to know something. Keno was her friend, too; maybe he knew something. He was at the bar. I took a detour, heading for the bar instead of the hotel building. I spotted Keno where he usually was. With him was Makani, strangely. She was sitting at the bar across from him. “Nate,” Keno said, noticing me. Makani stopped talking and watched me as I approached, smiling when she saw me. “Looks like Abby and I weren’t the only ones who made up last night,” I said walking

over to them. I saw Makani blush while Keno laughed. “Your girl knows how to put together a good night,” he said. Good night? Yup, he had definitely gotten lucky. “Looks like everyone got what they wanted,” I said. “You were down at the beach?” Makani asked. “No, well, yeah. I actually went to check on Abby.” “Is she all right?” Makani asked. I blinked. “You don’t know?” “Know what? She left earlier. She told me she needed a little time. Was she all right when you talked to her?” “I didn’t. She wasn’t there. I wanted to ask you whether you knew where she could be.” Makani and Keno exchanged glances. “Can’t help you, brother; I haven’t seen her since last night,” said Keno. “Just wait for her. She should be back before nightfall.” “What happened?” I asked her. She bit her lip, looking down for a second. “There was a little…incident in the morning when we were working.” “What?” “It isn’t my place to tell you. She will if she feels like she should. She isn’t in trouble. She’s a strong girl, Nate. Don’t worry about her. Just wait. Let her come back when she’s had time to think.” “Are you serious?” I spat. “Nate, come on. Relax,” Keno said.

“How can you two just stand there when Abby’s missing?” I demanded. “She isn’t missing. She just needs a little time alone. We know her. She’ll come back when she’s ready.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Just tell me if you see her, okay?” I said. They both agreed that they would. I walked back to the hotel. She wasn’t there, I had already checked. Where was I going? My suite? Sure. Why not? I’d be spending the afternoon alone anyway. Might as well play or try to write. I got to my suite and fell on the bed, lying on my back. Great. Now what? I reached for my phone, remembering I didn’t have her cell number. I laughed a little. Why the hell hadn’t I asked her for it? Now I had to wait for her to show up from wherever she had gone to hide. If something had happened at work and she had had to leave, she must have been upset about it. Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to knock her off her game for the rest of the day. It wasn’t an injury or anything. She hadn’t been hurt. Keno and Makani wouldn’t have refused to tell me what the deal was if that was it. I just wished I knew. I wanted to know so that I could be with her wherever she was. If something bad had happened, why hadn’t she told me? What the hell could it even be? I thought we had cleared the air between us, like she could feel like she could tell me things now. Did she still not trust me? No. Fuck this. I couldn’t wait. I had to know where she was. That would have been great if she was in one of the places I fucking knew where to look for her. The island was only so big, but I didn’t have her cell number. Where else was there? What was wrong? I didn’t know how Keno and Makani were just letting it be. Did she do this often? Was that why they were easy breezy about it? She was just so great all the time, happy and optimistic. This wasn’t like her. Something was wrong, and I knew it

would eat at me until I knew what it was. Where the fuck are you, Abby? I thought. Why the hell didn’t she come here? I could have helped her, whatever it was. I wanted to help her. Look at all the shit she had already done for me. It all felt like so long ago, that night she kept me from using; we were right here on the bed. It was the first night we spent together, right after coming back from… Fuck. That was it. I stood up and bolted for the door. I needed to find Keno — I knew where she was. I used the stairs, racing down them and walking quickly out to the bar. Keno was still there, but Makani had gone. “Hey, you’re back,” he said. “Yeah. Listen, I need to ask you a favor,” I said hurriedly. “What is it?” “Can I borrow your car? I need to go somewhere, like, right now.” “Sure, no problem,” he said, reaching into his pocket, handing me a bunch of keys. “Where are you going?” “I can’t explain, but it’s important,” I said. He smiled knowingly. “Just have it back by the time my shift is over. Go get her.”

Chapter Thirty Abby I watched a turtle shuffle slowly out of the water up onto the beach. I had been sitting there for a while, but I’d lost track of time. I wasn’t crying anymore. Now I was just tired. My mind wasn’t racing anymore. I was just upset. Shaken. I hadn’t thought about what I would do if anyone knew who I was in a long time. I mean, I wasn’t even that person anymore. I hadn’t used that name or looked like that in years. It was like being dunked headfirst into really cold water. Part of me thought I should have known that it would happen eventually, and the other half was just really comfortable believing everything had happened in the past and the rest of the world had left it there like I had. I hated it had been that easy to unsettle me. It wasn’t like I was in danger or anything. My father was dying in prison. I wasn’t in contact with anybody who had known me in the past, and if they wanted to track me down, they wouldn’t be able to. I had changed my name, and years had changed my appearance. All that was left was that scar. Was that what had given it away? I wasn’t even sure that that was common knowledge. I had never read any of the articles written about what had happened. Why would I? I had been there. I knew what had happened. I’d probably never forget. It was just upsetting. That was it. I had left Texas. I hadn’t even stepped foot on the

mainland since I had landed on Lanai. As far as I was concerned, Frances McCune didn’t exist anymore. Abby Terrell had taken her place. She had made something of herself and had a place she could call home, far away from the ugly things that had happened. She had friends, people who loved her. People who treated her like a normal girl and not a sideshow freak because of the things that her father had done. I hated that it was still who I was: that monster’s daughter. I hated that as much as I had tried, I wasn’t allowed to just be me anymore. I’d had my life taken from me, and all the years here that I had spent trying to have something that I could call mine because I had built it by myself were all for nothing. He hadn’t killed me, but Randall McCune — my father — had taken my life. I concentrated on the natural sounds around me. The water and the wind. I concentrated on what was real and what I could feel. The things that mattered. It calmed me down, coming here and being able to hear my own thoughts. I was alone, but it wasn’t lonely. It was noisy, but it wasn’t deafening. My own little place I knew I could run when it was me who had made the choice to. Not where I had to hide because my father had made living impossible. I thought about going back, but I wasn’t ready yet. The worst had passed; now I just wanted to regroup before I had to pretend like nothing was wrong again. I knew I could do it. It would just take time, more time to get me back to a place where it didn’t plague me so much anymore. I looked behind me, suddenly hearing a sound. There was someone else on the beach. I smiled sadly realizing who it was. I sat quietly as he approached and sat next to me in his dark jeans and shirt. “How did you know where to find me?” I asked him. “You told me this is where you came to get away,” he said.

“Why did you come after me if you knew that was what I wanted to do?” “Because you were there for me when I needed you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” “Well, you can see,” I said shrugging. “I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” he asked. I looked at him. He was looking at me. “If I fucked up, if I did something last night, I need you to tell me. I’m not smart enough to figure it out on my own,” he said. I raised my eyebrows. “Nate, it wasn’t you. Last night was amazing. This was something else.” “I wish you came to me instead of running away,” he said. “I didn’t run away.” “I was looking everywhere for you. Nobody knew where you were.” “I’m sorry I worried you. I just needed some time to cool off.” “What happened?” he asked gently. I was silent. I carried the secret of what had happened like it was me who had committed the crime and not my father. If I told him, yet another person would know my secret shame. What if he thought it made me fucked up and a monster like my father? What if he knew that if it ever got out, the media would be all over me and that wasn’t what he wanted? What if he just thought I was somehow guilty by association and didn’t want to handle my baggage? “I can’t say,” I whispered. “What could it possibly be? There’s no way it’s worse than what I told you.” “It might be,” I warned. “I don’t care. I want to help you,” he said.

Just do it, I thought. What was the worst thing he could do? Leave? He was going to do that anyway. I took a deep breath. “I was born in Texas,” I started. “It was a small town. Rochester. My father and mother owned a small ranch. I was their only child. I’d work on the ranch every day when I wasn’t in school. Everyone knew us. Everyone really liked us. My dad was a stand-up guy, community leader, church member… That was why it was such a shock when he did what he did.” “What did he do?” he asked. “Do you recognize the name Randall McCune?” I asked. He paused for a second. “It’s a little familiar.” “He killed six people in Texas six years ago. He entered a house where a family of five were sleeping. He killed everyone as they slept. He went back to his house and held his wife and child hostage inside while the police attempted to get everybody out without using excessive force. “He killed his wife, but was apprehended before he killed his child. She was fifteen years old when it happened,” I said, remembering the scene as I narrated it. “Did you know the family?” “I still have the scar from where he almost used the knife he used on Mom to kill me,” I said, my voice cracking. “Oh my God, Abby,” he whispered. I felt hot tears pour down my face. “I had to leave. I had my name changed and was kept in a group home. They let me emancipate myself from my father because of the circumstances, and as soon as I turned eighteen, I was allowed to move out of state. “I came here, and I haven’t looked back since. He went to prison, where he will stay

until he dies. I haven’t contacted him since. “Today, a couple of hotel guests recognized me. They knew my story and who my father was. I’ve been trying to get away from him and what he did since I was still a kid. I thought it had been long enough and I had run far enough, but I guess not.” “I’m so sorry that you went through that,” he said. “I am, too. I couldn’t live the rest of my life known as that monster’s daughter. It just ruffled me, what happened today. I needed a little time to get over it.” “Why didn’t you tell me anything?” he asked. I laughed. “Because I couldn’t have normal baggage like a kid, or kleptomania, or something. Related to a serial killer? That makes me guilty by association. I’d stay away from me if I were you. It might be hereditary.” He laughed lightly. “Nothing your father did is your fault.” “He’s still my father. Whether people think I’m like him or not, they think I’m a freak because of who raised me.” “You’re not a freak. He committed those crimes on his own. You aren’t responsible for any of it. Besides, if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already.” I smiled. He moved closer to me and put his arm around my waist, kissing my temple. “Did you hear about the story?” “I must have, but it happened a while ago,” he said. “So, you’ve forgotten. I’ve tried so hard to do that. I thought I would be safe here. Out of his shadow. Of all the things I could possibly be known for…” I said darkly. “They had no right to say that to you. Even if they did know, they should have kept it to themselves.”

“It was a nightmare during the trial. They made me take the stand with my neck bandaged up. Then afterward, they wouldn’t leave me alone. People were scared of me or wanted to interview me. They wanted to write their articles and human interest pieces. Laugh, point their fingers.” “I’m so sorry, babe,” he whispered. He kissed me again. “None of that can touch you now.” “But they know,” I protested. “They are going to leave at some point and without proof, it’s just a story from two wackos who wanted to start a rumor.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “What if they won’t leave me alone? When he said it, I remembered everything like I was there again.” “I’ll take care of them,” he said. “How?” I asked, turning to look at him. “Let me do this for you, Abby,” he said, not answering my question. “Come on. You can’t spend the whole day here. The sun is going to go down soon.” “Just a little while longer?” I asked. We sat there twenty more minutes before he walked me to the car he came in and drove us back to the hotel. He peeled my clothes off and put me in my bed when we got to my house. He made me tea and sat with me until I fell asleep, talking to me and letting me talk. I wasn’t a freak when I was with him. My past didn’t exist. It had shaken me, what had happened, but I needed this. He’d help me get over it.

Chapter Thirty-One Nate “What’s been your worst experience with a guest here at the hotel?” I asked. “Worst experience? The people who come here are usually pretty tame,” Makani said. She and Abby were behind their desk. It was early, and they had just come in. Abby from my suite and Makani from her place — or Keno’s place, if I had to guess, judging how happy the two of them had been since the night we had met at Abby’s house. She had been Abby’s friend and the other front desk girl to me for most of the summer. I’d only ever been around her with Abby or talked about her with Keno, but since that night at Abby’s, things had changed. The four of us had hung out a few more times, and I had gotten to know Makani. She was such an important person in Abby’s life, it only made sense that I got to know her, too. That was where I was, doing shit because I knew it would be important to Abby. Getting to know her friends, her life, her plans — everything I could get her to tell me. The thing about her dad… It still sort of surprised me whenever I remembered it. I knew there was still so much stuff I wanted to know about her and so much I didn’t know, but some stuff you never expected to hear. Abby had seen some shit. Since she had told me, I had looked the story up, really because I had just wanted to see whether it jogged my memory at all. I got about two articles deep before I stopped searching.

There was a lot of stuff, not just news stories. There were forums and threads discussing it, crime scene pictures, audio of the police negotiations with Abby’s dad when he had her and her mother hostage. Sick shit like conspiracy theories about where Abby was now and what she was doing, the daughter of this monster who had killed a bunch of people. It made me mad. I knew how people were. They weren’t interested in the case and what had happened to Abby because she’d just been a kid when it had happened, and they wanted to hear she was doing okay. They wanted to track her. They wanted to watch her because she was interesting to them now. I had made a rule a long time ago that I would never, ever try to see what people were saying about me and the band. I avoided news and rumors about us because the opinions of thousands of people who knew nothing real about me meant jack shit. It wasn’t a compliment that people wanted to know what you were up to; it was stupid. It was empty because, at the end of the day, they got their shits and giggles at your expense and moved the fuck along. All you got was thousands of people judging you. They were different, Abby’s situation and mine, but there were enough similarities there to make me feel like I could relate. Being recognized had really fucked her up for a couple days. I couldn’t imagine being that kid, having to watch your father murder your mother in front of you, and then try to murder you, too. If she had turned out fucked up somehow, shit, no one would have blamed her. But she hadn’t. She was the sweetest girl I knew, and she didn’t deserve any of that shit happening to her. Any of it. She was doing a lot better now. Makani and I hadn’t really left her alone much. She had made a couple more trips out to Polihua Beach and now seemed like she was back to her regular self again.

“You have to have some stories,” I insisted. “This is a five-star resort. We don’t really get backpackers coming through with drugs and parties,” Abby quipped. “The worst debauchery in the world happens at places like this. What’s worse than a creep with money?” I asked. They laughed. “I don’t really see it,” Makani said, shrugging. “Oh, you know who has the real horror stories? Housekeeping,” Abby said. “Oh yeah, the honeymooners?” Makani said. “What about them?” I asked. “What usually happens on a wedding night?” she said, smirking. “Aolani, our friend who works housekeeping, told me she found the mother lode of sex toys in one couple’s suite. They were everywhere with lube all over the linen, and the furniture was all skewed. They didn’t bother to hide anything. She didn’t know what to do, so she just lined them all up on the bed like pillows,” Abby said. “This is like a real vacation spot, though, you know? Like there aren’t enough strip clubs here to really see how fucked up people can get,” I said. “Discretion is important. You’re kind of paying for it when you pay for the hotel,” Makani said. Didn’t I know it? Everybody who had been in my suite knew I was an addict. They had to know. I hadn’t taken that many steps to hide it. I threw used needles in the trash with everything else. I had left my kit lying out so often, anybody who had really wanted to know what was in there would have been welcome to take a look. I had gotten rid of everything. Even the bag I used to stash it all in, gone.

“Do you get old, married business guys who are here on vacation with women who are obviously not their wives?” I asked. The girls laughed. “Ugh, it’s so upsetting. You should see the guys we run into when we go out in the city. They can’t keep their eyes off your girl here,” Makani said. Abby smiled shyly. Any guy who could had to be blind. “Next time, I should join you guys,” I said. “Why? You’re looking for a little friendly competition?” Abby teased. “There’s no competition, babe; I already won,” I said smirking. Makani laughed, and Abby rolled her eyes, smiling. I heard the door behind their desk open and looked up, seeing the manager walk through it. He looked at me and it seemed like something clicked in his head as he did. He glanced at the girls before walking around the desk to stand near me. “Mr. Stone,” he greeted me. “Everything is well, I hope?” “Everything’s great,” I said. “Do you have anything planned today?” “Nothing really,” I said, looking over at Abby. “There is a luau tonight,” she mentioned. “About that,” Joseph said, pausing. “Something happened. We’re down two performers. That shaves almost twenty minutes off the event run time.” “How did that happen?” Abby asked. “One canceled. The other had double booked. The point is they’re not coming.” “Couldn’t it just run shorter?” Makani asked. “Ideally? Yeah, it could if I had found this out earlier. There is no way we would be

able to get someone booked today for a performance tonight,” he said. “Would you have to cancel the luau?” Abby asked. “I don’t want it to come to that,” he said, looking stressed. Sounded rough. Running a hotel must have been a pretty shitty job, now that I thought about it. Maybe he liked it; there had to be people that did. He hadn’t said anything after that. Had he come to make the announcement, or had he actually wanted us to tell him what to do? I looked at Abby and noticed her looking at me. Makani and Joseph were, too. They all were. I looked between each of their faces and realized what the fuck they wanted. “No.” “Please, Nate,” Abby said. “No. I’m not doing a show.” “Nate, it’s one of the last luaus of the season; we can’t cancel it,” she insisted. “It would be a huge favor,” Joseph said. I looked over at Abby who was looking up at me, making this face I wished she’d stop making. Her eyes were big and blue, and I didn’t stand a chance. “Don’t look at me like that, Abby,” I said. “Please?” she asked coyly. Shit. “This isn’t fair,” I sighed. I looked between the three of them again before nodding. The girls cheered. Joseph exhaled, looking really relieved. “Thank you, Nate. Of course, I don’t expect you to do anything without compensation,” he said. I didn’t care about being compensated. I cared about not doing this shit in the first place because I didn’t fucking want to.

I told him it was fine. He asked me to go with him to talk to the event coordinator about set up and what I would need for the performance. I couldn’t believe I was doing this again. I had done all this before already. When I had gotten myself in the last luau, I had had to come to Joseph and basically beg for a four-minute block to do my thing. That had been different, though. It had been four minutes, and it had been for Abby because I was out of options to get her attention. This was almost twenty minutes. This was an entire set, and they thought I had enough to do it alone. I ended up back at my suite when Joseph was done with me. As good a place as any. I mean, I had to practice now, I had a show. Abby didn’t come back up until her shift was over and the luau was just a couple hours away. During that time, I’d put together a set list, mostly things I had written on the island since the summer had begun and just one or two Remus throwbacks. I wasn’t worried about what I would play; I was worried about playing at all. Once Abby arrived, it was like she was enough of an audience to make me start freaking out about performing. The anxiety had been slowly building the whole day, but we were just a few hours out now, and I had never in my life been this nervous to get on a stage. I had always banked on my music as the one thing I was good at. Not today, though. I was shitting myself. She was sitting on my bed, waiting for me to get ready so we could leave. “Babe?” I asked. “Hmm?” “Do you think Joseph would kick me out if I refused to do the performance?” I asked lightly, looking back at her from the closet.

“He would probably kick a few people out. Are you still nervous?” “I haven’t performed since I was with the band, Abby.” “What about the last time you sang, with the guitar?” “That was different. I wasn’t performing, I was trying to get you back. That was one song, this is a set, and I am alone. I joined a fucking band in the first place so I wouldn’t have to do that.” “You have this, Nate; you’re a musical genius,” she said. “This can’t be my first performance after leaving Remus. I can’t choke the first time I get on a stage. Everyone who told me I was an idiot for leaving is going to be right.” “No, they aren’t,” she said, standing and walking up to me. “You’re a fantastic musician. You don’t have to prove that to anybody because there is no question. All you have to do is go up there and do what you can do with your eyes closed already.” “I can’t do this, Abby,” I sighed. “Yes, you can. If you’re nervous about the crowd, just watch me. Pretend it’s just me out there.” I looked down at her. She really wanted me to do it. Part of me wanted to, as well, but I also didn’t want to deal with fucking up. Oddly, I believed her. I felt comforted by how much faith she had in the fact that I could do it. She believed in me. She was supporting me. So many people had no idea how important support was. It was literally the difference between me doing this shit and not. Having someone on your side who believed in you? That was fucking priceless. “Doing it alone makes it feel like the band’s really gone, you know? Like there was a chance we would get back together, but now that’s gone.”

“Maybe doing this tonight will help you decide whether being with your band is something you want in your life again, after all,” she suggested. I shrugged. She had a point. We left the room together, early because I had to go get ready, and stayed together until I had to go backstage. Everything I saw, heard, and felt blurred into one big cloud of background noise that was buzzing in the back of my head. I wasn’t going first. The lineup had been shuffled around so that I was going second to last. At least I wasn’t closing out the show, I thought. This could have been worse. I hadn’t really gotten many notes or restrictions as far as what they’d let me do. It just had to be acoustic because the backing band couldn’t learn everything they needed in one day in order to back me up, which was fine. I wasn’t nervous enough to have to take a shot of something first, but I was getting there. When it came time for me to take the stage, the audience clapped me on pretty strong. Some of them might have remembered me from the first performance. It was weird being the only one, at least I was doing something familiar: playing. I started easy, with something I had played to death already: the first song I ever wrote for Remus. It was about the only thing I could write about when I was that young: my mom. Being behind the piano was easy for me. My hands knew what to play. I’d sung the words so many times there was no way I’d forget them. The crowd wasn’t lit like the stage, and we weren’t inside, so there were no house lights. I couldn’t see Abby any of the times I looked out into the crowd for her. I knew she was there; it wasn’t that. I just wanted to see her. I wanted to watch her again when I sang the song I had written for her. The crowd went wild when I was finished. I nodded and waved. This was never the reason I had gotten into music, but I wasn’t going to lie, it felt good to get immediate feedback like that from an audience about your music. The nerves had died at some point between the first and second songs, and now I just wanted to see what Abby thought.

I went backstage, walking down the steps. Abby’s beaming face was looking up at me. I smiled seeing her. So that was why I hadn’t seen her in the crowd. “Did you watch the set?” “You were amazing,” she said. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. We were together most of the time, but I didn’t know whether anyone really knew we were together, besides Makani and Keno. A few people came up to say they liked the performance and shake my hand. I hadn’t realized it before, but I had sort of missed performing. I liked this feeling. Not being in a huge stadium, performing for thousands of people, but something like this where everyone could see the stage and if they wanted to, could come talk to you after. I heard someone call my name and saw Joseph walking over to us. “Another fantastic show,” he said, grinning. “Thanks. It’s a great crowd you guys have here,” I said. I didn’t know whether or not I should have taken my arms off of Abby. If it was a problem, I didn’t want to be the reason why she got in trouble. “If you’re ever looking for a job, you’re welcome to perform, whenever you want.” I laughed a little. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Will you really?” Abby asked looking up at me. I winked at her, smiling. The more I thought about it, the more it sounded like a great idea.

Chapter Thirty-Two Abby It was getting hard to name things that I enjoyed more than waking up next to Nate. I had never felt like such a chick in all my life. Nobody had ever made me feel so happy about being close to them. This was different from regular friendship. Nate was someone I was beginning to doubt that I could live without. I was doing my best not to think about the end that was coming, whether or not we wanted it, and it was getting easier. Taking it a day at a time, concentrating on what we were doing and not wondering when it was going to end was the only thing I could do. Stopping this again was completely off the table. I wasn’t going to be the reason why our days together were cut shorter than they had to be. I was going to treat this like what I felt it was: a new relationship that had completely changed my life. I was going to let myself be excited and happy because, damn it, I was. I loved his company. I loved doing things with him, and if I was spending all my time with him wondering when it was that I would have to be without him, then neither of us were going to have a good time. I balanced the tray of food I had brought up from downstairs precariously against one hip as I opened his door. I could have called to have the food brought up, but I still had a job I had to report for daily. Every day I got to spend with Nate was like an unofficial day off. I knew most of the

reason why was because Joseph was so sweet on him, but I was taking full advantage of that. Anything that let me spend as much time with him as possible was a good thing as far as I was concerned. I walked into the suite and took the tray with me to the bedroom instead of leaving it in the dining area. Who didn’t love breakfast in bed? He was still asleep. He had gotten better about getting up earlier now, but I was still up before he was nine times out of ten. He was asleep on his stomach, and I knew underneath the covers he was naked, the way I had been when I had been under there with him. He was so gorgeous, sometimes I found myself staring. How many people wished they had this view every morning? I could have watched him longer, but we had things to do. We were going snorkeling. All this time on the island, and he still hadn’t gone. I pulled the drapes open and got his swimsuit and a t-shirt out, then came back to the bed jumping onto it. I yanked the covers off his sleeping body. “Nate… Nate… Nate?” “Huh?” he grunted, waking up. “Wake up, it’s morning,” I said excitedly. He opened his eyes and squinted up at me. “What time is it?” “Time to eat; I brought you breakfast,” I said, swatting his ass. I crawled over his body to get the tray. “Drink this before it gets cold,” I told him, holding the cup of coffee out to him. He rolled over so he was sitting and took the cup. “Have you eaten already?” he asked me. “Mm-hmm, while you were still asleep,” I teased him. “We’re losing daylight, Stone. We need to get on the water.” “Is snorkeling one of those things you have to do in the morning or else all the fish

are gone or something?” “No. I just wish you liked hanging out with me as much as you liked to hang out here,” I said. “You should just stay here with me then,” he said, putting the cup down and holding my hand, pulling me back onto the bed with him. I giggled, falling into his lap. “If only you were this excited to get out once in a while,” I said, feeling his penis against my hip. “Come on, have something to eat so we can leave.” I kissed him and wriggled off of his lap. He sighed and had his coffee, asking me to eat with him. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said, eating a piece of toast. “It’s incredible. It’s like visiting another planet,” I gushed. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who was this excited about fish before,” he laughed. “It’s not just fish, it’s everything. Turtles, coral, mollusks,” I said. He was smiling, nodding patiently. “They all sound delicious,” he said. I frowned at him, making him laugh. There was just something about the bottom of the ocean. It felt like being inside another universe or being in a beautiful picture or photograph. It was this beauty that seemed like it wasn’t real, even when you were looking at it with your own eyes. He had a shower and finally got dressed. We were lucky because the resort was right on the marine reserve. The water was perfect and clear and always full of life; we didn’t have to go any further than Hulopoe Beach, the one he could see from his suite. On one hand, I was running out of things that I could show him around the island, but on the other, I was getting to be with him when he experienced so many things for the first time.

I loved being the one who got to give him that. It was sort of dumb to think he would never have in his life if it wasn’t for me. This was one vacation out of his whole life, but so much had changed for him already. It felt like this was him starting over, and I was getting to be with him as he did. We were out on the beach, on board the excursion catamaran that was going to take us on a day-long ride around the bay, stopping at various snorkel sites where we could explore the reefs. Some of the other guests were on the trip in the boat, and Nate was relaxed the whole time, talking to them, laughing, and making conversation. This was a new man. Sitting next to him, feeling him hold my hand when I slid it into his, I felt like I was getting the guy he was when he was relaxed, happy, and sober. I loved the change I had seen in him, not because it made me happy per se, but because he laughed so much easier and felt so much freer — like he was getting what he had come to Lanai to get. The water was pretty warm since it was summer. I had worried a little that maybe he would be the type that didn’t like open water or didn’t like swimming, but he wasn’t. The only thing I regretted about choosing snorkeling was that we couldn’t talk at the same time as being under water. It was beautiful, of course, as I had predicted. He stayed close to me the entire time, asking how I liked it and making sure I was having a good time, like I wasn’t the one who had brought him out today. It felt like a date. We had been out on them before, but both times had been a little more private. The dinner we had in the city was just us, he had rented out an entire restaurant, and the time at my house we were with Keno and Makani, two of my closest friends. It felt like we were going public, sort of. It was dumb. I had never done this with

anyone before. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be feeling this giddy and happy with him, but I was, and I didn’t want it to stop. He would hold my hand or put his arm around me, kiss me. I hoped that meant it wasn’t just me who was feeling like this. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I didn’t have a lot of other options to call this besides love. It was only around four in the afternoon when we sailed back to the dock. We had spent the day together, and I still didn’t want it to end. He had held my hand helping me off the catamaran and still hadn’t let go. We walked slowly on the beach, fingers laced together. “Did you want to do anything this evening?” I asked him. “There’s more?” “There’s your suite or my house,” I suggested, inviting him over. “Your place is closer. Did I leave anything behind the last time I was over?” he asked. I smiled to myself. The only reason why he would ask something like that was if he was planning on staying the night. We walked the short stretch to my house and took turns under the shower. He was standing with a towel wrapped around his waist at my small bookshelf, looking at something when I came out of the shower. “Abby?” he said. I was grabbing some clothes out of my closet. “Hmm?” “What the hell?” he said. I turned and saw him holding a CD. His CD. Well, his band’s CD. Their first independent record. He didn’t really sound mad, just surprised. “You didn’t tell me you were a fan.” “You didn’t need to hear that from me. I’m sure people always tell you they listen to your stuff,” I said, pulling a tank top and shorts on. “I would have actually wanted to know. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. I walked

over to him with a pair of his underwear that had gotten left here during one of his visits. “Would that have changed the way that you spoke to me?” “Probably,” he said honestly. “That was why. I didn’t want you to care that I was a fan. You were on vacation. You didn’t need to have to watch your back and be paranoid about what I wanted whenever I would speak to you or if I would try to steal your stuff and sell it on eBay.” “What’s your favorite track?” he asked. I smirked looking up at him. “They were all a little blah. Not really my thing,” I said, dismissively. He laughed, sensing that I was making fun of him. “As long as you like this record more than the second one, you’re good,” he said, sitting on my bed. I joined him. “What’s wrong with the second one?” “Did you listen to it?” he asked. I nodded. “Didn’t it sound a little off to you?” “It sounded different,” I supplied. “That was because it was our first with a major label. What they don’t tell you when you work with them is that they care more about the money than the records they’re making. They make music that they can sell. They produced the hell out of our sound. They rewrote lyrics, chopped up tracks, and changed the music. They did a hack job on my songs.” “That’s why you left?” “One of the reasons. I want to make the stuff that I care about, you know? Yeah, the music industry doesn’t exist unless people are buying music, but shouldn’t you care about

the music you actually make? Make something that you aren’t ashamed to ask people to pay for?” “You don’t have to work in the industry if you don’t like it,” I said. “That’s the thing. I do, at least some parts of it. I love the collaboration, creativity, the people who are really artists, whose music comes from somewhere real… I like that.” “Then make your own music on your own terms,” I suggested. “You’re a talented musician, and you’re passionate. That has to be more than a lot of people already working in the industry even have.” “You really think I could do it?” he asked. I nodded vigorously. He smiled. “I was talking to my dad a while ago, and he was telling me something similar.” “You should take his advice,” I said. “He said I needed to take this time off to think about what I wanted, but I think I’ve known what I wanted all along.” I sighed a little. Time off, he said. That was what this was for him. He was going back at some point. A desperate thought flashed through my head, a frantic what if. What if he could stay? No, Abby, I thought. Get a grip; he had a life before he came here, and it’s waiting for him back in LA. “You want a solo career?” I asked, snapping out of my fantasy. “I want to write my own stuff. If I collaborate, I want to do it with people I trust, who aren’t fucking leeches trying to make as much money as they can on worthless noise.” “You’ve always wanted to make music, haven’t you?” I asked. He smiled like he was remembering something. “My first memories of being alive involve music. Music was the way my mom and I used to bond. It was the thing I felt was mine. All the best times of my life were set to

music. Notes and melodies just made sense to me,” he said. I could hear the passion in his voice. I couldn’t imagine how fulfilling making music was for him, but I was happy there was something that shone so bright in his life. That was why he had to go back to LA. He would be miserable any other way. I would be miserable without him, but some things in life were replaceable. Others weren’t. I fought what I was feeling to be happy for him. “Guess your dad was right then,” I said lightly. “Guess he was.” I made sandwiches for us to eat at dinner, and we ended up turning in fairly early. He was asleep before I was, pressed into my back with his arm around my waist. I laced our fingers together and snuggled harder into him. How much longer would I be able to do that? I had to remind myself every day to focus on the present with Nate, but with the end in sight, it was getting harder and harder to do.

Chapter Thirty-Three Nate My phone was ringing. What fucking time was it? It was so early in the morning. I opened my eyes and saw Abby’s sleeping body beside mine. I turned and looked at the bedside table where my phone was, next to the lamp. I slid out of the bed so I didn’t wake her and went to the bathroom. Today was one of those rare mornings I seemed to be up first. I squinted at the number, but didn’t know whose it was. I put the phone to my ear, closing the bathroom door. “Hello?” I asked, clearing my throat. “Nate Stone?” the person asked. I frowned. “Yeah?” “My name is Wes Barry. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. I’m a producer here in LA.” I narrowed my eyes. “Well, you found me. What do you want?” “I know some of the guys who worked on your last record,” he said. “I was wondering if we could talk.” “What the fuck about?” I asked, running the water and splashing some on my face. I heard Wes Barry laugh over the phone. “Everyone’s talking about you, Nate. You wouldn’t believe the rumors they’re telling about you.”

“If the rumor is that I ran away to Hawai’i to join a cult and I’m never coming back, they’re true.” “I wanted to hear it from you, Nate. Are you ever going back to Remus?” he asked. “Why do you care?” “Because I think the answer is no. And if that is the case, I have an offer for you — if you’re interested, of course.” An offer, huh? “What kind of offer?” I asked. “Your own music, however you want it. I know your sound, and I like it. I know what I heard off your second album with your band and that wasn’t it.” “So what do you want to do about that?” “I want to sell your music. I have a contract here for you I think you’ll really like. Tell me where to send it, and you can have it by tonight.” “I’m not looking at offers right now.” “You’ll want to see this, Nate.” “How many records would I owe you?” “How many do you want to give me?” “Stop bullshitting.” “No bullshit, Nate,” he said. This sounded too good to be true. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake that I had with Remus again with this guy. Even though I hadn’t gotten out of my thing with Remus yet, I was interested in what this guy was saying. This could be my out. I was sure at this point that I was making music in the future — yes, one hundred percent — but it was not going to be with Remus. They could kiss my ass. I was done.

“I hope you didn’t call me to hear a yes from me immediately,” I said. “Of course not. I can send you the contract, and you can tell me what you think. Take your time,” he said. I knew what that meant in music, and it didn’t mean take your time. It meant get back to us before we lose interest and sign someone who’s easier to work with than you. “Awesome, I guess,” I said. “I’ll be in touch,” Wes Barry said before he hung up. I looked at the phone. Now was as good a time as any to start thinking about my next move. It was just sort of unexpected, and it sounded like there might have been a catch. I was just talking about this with Abby, so maybe it was a sign, but I wasn’t dumb enough to go into it headfirst without making sure it wasn’t another sham contract that would trap me into something I didn’t want. I walked back into the bathroom and saw Abby standing with her back to me, getting dressed. “Morning, babe,” I said, walking over and kissing her. “I was wondering where you were. Was that your record company on the phone?” she asked. “No, it was another producer,” I said vaguely. “He made you an offer? I heard, Nate, you can tell me.” “He’s sending me a contract to look at for a deal I can start when I go back to LA.” “That’s great. That is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” she asked. “It’s good news, but I have to look at the contract first. I can’t just sign it.” “But he’s giving you what you want, right? A way to make your own music, exactly

how you want?” “If he really meant what he said, yeah.” She smiled sadly. “Then you’re going to take it. You’re going to start working with him when you go back to LA.” “I might, but that won’t happen for a while, Abby.” “Tomorrow, in a few weeks, does it make a difference?” she asked. “You’re upset,” I said. “I’m happy for you, Nate. This is what you wanted.” “But it’s not what you wanted.” “I want you to be happy,” she said, walking past me into the bathroom. I heard the water running and the sound of her brushing her teeth. It was getting real now. We couldn’t pretend that my life in LA didn’t exist anymore. I didn’t want it to end either, but she was a lot more upset about what was happening than I was. I walked over to the bathroom doorway, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Come with me,” I said. She was patting her face dry with a towel. She turned to look at me. “Come with you where?” “To LA. This doesn’t have to end when I have to go. You can come with me. We can stay together.” “I can’t leave the island, Nate.” “Why not?”

“I’ve built a life here. I have no real family left; the people here are my family. There’s a reason why I came to Lanai and not Oahu or the Big Island. Nobody knows about what happened to me here. They know me as Abby Terrell; they have no idea that I’m that girl from Texas — and I need it that way. I can’t be back in a place where everyone wants something from me because they know about my past.” “We can get a place outside LA, and I can just go for work,” I said. She shook her head. “We have different homes, and that’s okay,” she said. “It’s not over yet; let’s not worry about what we can’t change. I don’t want to spend the rest of the time we have together worrying,” she said. She walked over and kissed me on the cheek before leaving. How long has this been on her mind? I thought. Obviously longer than it had been on mine. I was the one leaving her after all. Why didn’t she want to come with me, though? There was long distance, I guess, but that wouldn’t have been the same. I couldn’t wake up next to her if we were long distance. That wasn’t okay. I didn’t want to give up on what we had because of the offer, but when the hell was something like this going to happen again? I could stay here. That was an option, right? I’d have Abby, but what else? Would the offer still stand? Would they give me a contract even if I didn’t live close enough for it to be convenient? I didn’t want to live here and be traveling back to LA all the time anyway. What the hell would be the point if I stayed here to be with her, but never saw her? I needed to get out of here. I wasn’t figuring anything out on my own. There was only one person I could talk to about this besides Abby. By now, I basically knew that I could count on finding him at the bar when I needed to talk. I’d miss that when I had to leave. I didn’t have any people I could really count on in LA. If anyone was left over from when I was using, I didn’t want to be in contact with them anyway.

Keno waved from the bar as I approached. “Hey, man,” I said, sitting down. “Hey. You haven’t needed a drink from me in a while. What’s up?” he asked. I laughed. “It’s not that bad yet,” I said. “What happened?” “Summer’s almost over,” I said. “You’re upset about that? Is it Abby?” “Of course it’s Abby. It’s like we can’t pretend anymore that I’m not leaving. I think she’s becoming distant since she thinks she’s losing me.” “Can you blame her?” he asked. I sighed, irritated. “I told her I didn’t want to break up.” “What are you going to do? Stay? Are you going to make her do long distance?” “I told her she could come with me.” “You don’t even have to tell me what she said. The fact that you’re here now tells me everything I need to know.” “She doesn’t want to leave Lanai,” I said. “A lot of people who live here never want to leave. I don’t know that much about how she got here, but I know she has nobody on the mainland to go back to.” “She’d have me,” I complained. “That’s not enough, brother; she still wouldn’t be home. Why do you want her to go with you? Why can’t you stay?”

“I got an offer from a producer in LA for a new deal,” I said. “If I take it, I can’t stay here, I have to leave, but I don’t want to leave her behind.” “You gotta choose,” he said gravely. “I don’t want to choose. That’s like asking me which one of my lungs I’d rather lose, left or right. I can’t see a life in LA without music, but I can’t see it without Abby, either.” “I can’t tell you what to choose, but whatever it is, you have to find a way to be happy with it.” I looked at Keno. He was saying the wrong thing to me. He was such a romantic guy; why wasn’t he defending me for staying with Abby? He was right, ultimately, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was still going to lose something, whatever I picked. I told him I had to go and left. I didn’t have to make the decision right now, but the clock was ticking. I knew the offer wasn’t going to stay on the plate for long. What if I just refused to get back to Wes Barry and let him take his offer back? No, you didn’t do that in business. I couldn’t punk out like that. I walked through the front lobby, looking over at the desk to see if Abby was there. She was, but her head was down. What did she want me to do? I felt like that would be the right thing to choose. I thought about going over there when I noticed a group walking towards the desk. They had cameras, but they weren’t tourists. I could spot a herd of reporters from a mile away. I heard the flashbulbs going off and the guys shouting Abby’s name. Oh shit. I rushed over there. Abby looked like a deer in headlights. Makani looked like she was trying to grab her and take her to the back. I could hear them asking her about her father. They weren’t asking; they were yelling. The girls were out from behind the desk, walking towards the door that went to the

back. I got between them and the reporters. “Out of the way, man,” one of them yelled. “Wait a minute, are you Nate Stone?” one guy asked. “You guys looking for a story? I got one for you. I’ve been here all summer making plans to move here permanently,” I said, grasping for the first thing I could think of. The guys exploded, all asking questions at once. I had them. I glanced back at Abby. They were still at the door. I winked at her, and she smiled, letting Makani lead her away. The reporters were all still there. I started talking, anything to get them off of Abby.

Chapter Thirty-Four Abby I never thought I’d see the day that a swarm of men with cameras were flashing lights in my face and yelling at me about my father in Lanai. I honestly thought that I had left it behind me, which was why when it had happened, I froze. I felt like I’d just been plunged six years into the past and a scene that I had stopped recognizing was suddenly in front of me again. But then Nate had shown up and they had left, and I was in shock and Makani had gotten me a glass of water, and then I had cried. I wasn’t upset; I was more shocked and relieved, and confused about what was happening. I didn’t want to think about what I would have said to them if they had stayed around long enough. I was glad that Nate had done what he had done. I was a little worried, though, about what he had told them. This was sort of like his haven away from the craziness of his life, too. I didn’t want him to have lost it because of me and my stupid past. By the end of the day, I had more or less recovered. Joseph had offered me the rest of the day off; that was after he had sat me down to explain to him why he had a flood of reporters in his lobby looking for me. I had told him my story. I’d had everything altered when I’d had my name changed. Because the person I was before my name was Abby Terrell was effectively gone from the face of the earth, it was a little complicated.

He listened to me stone-faced, and then told me that he understood if I wanted to take the rest of the day off and that he would take steps to make sure that that never happened again. I appreciated the thought, but I did know that having the reporters around would have been bad for business, so it wasn’t totally for me. I felt okay enough to finish up work. Makani asked me about three times each hour whether I was sure I was okay, and the answer was consistently yes. The initial shock of it had been bad, but the thing was, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I wasn’t helpless. I loved that Nate had done what he had done, but all it made me worry about what would happen to him now. After work, I went straight to his suite, not sure whether I’d find him there. I knocked at the door, knowing that he’d open it for me if he was in there. I flew into his arms when he opened it. I kissed him deeply, cupping his face in my hands, feeling his prickly stubble against my palms. “Whoa, I was going to ask whether you were okay, but I guess I know the answer to that,” he said. I pressed my forehead to his. “What did you do, Nate?” “What do you mean?” “With the reporters? I wish you had let me handle it,” I said. “I wasn’t going to stand there and let them bully you.” “But what if they come after you now?” I asked. He shrugged. “I have practice. All news becomes old news eventually. They can’t talk about me forever.” I sighed, running my hands down his chest. “Thank you for doing it,” I said. “They weren’t getting away with that,” he said, hugging me tight to his chest.

“I came to get you,” I said. “Why? Where are we going?” “I want to take you out to eat. My treat.” “You don’t have to do that, babe. It was nothing. Really.” “You still have to eat,” I said, smiling up at him. I let him go and got dressed before we left. We walked down the beach past my house, getting to the restaurant through the beach. It was a small place, and we had to wait to get a table, but it served fantastic seafood, and I just wanted to say thank you to him somehow. There was still something that was nagging at me that I needed to know the answer to. I knew how I felt about him, and at this point, it was safe to think that he might have felt a little similar, but even as I was trying to get over the shock of seeing the reporters, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said he wanted to do. “I’m gonna miss these places when I go back to LA,” he said. I glanced up at him from my plate. “When you go back?” I asked. He shrugged. “Not a lot of nice mom and pop places left.” “If you stayed here, you wouldn’t have to miss them,” I said, looking down at my dinner. “Yeah. You could take me to every last one of your cool spots here on the island,” he said. “Did you mean what you said earlier today?” I asked quickly. “When? What about?” “About moving to Lanai. Did you mean it?”

“I don’t know,” he said shrugging. “I knew that I had to say something that would get their attention, and that did it.” “Have you thought about moving here permanently?” “I’ve thought about not going back, but it wouldn’t be as easy as just refusing to leave, you know?” he said. I nodded. Of course, I thought. There was a lot more to consider here than what I was feeling because I wasn’t the one who would be making a huge life-changing decision if he decided to stay here. My mind just kept going back to what he had said that morning about me moving back with him and for this to come up as a possibility the same day just made me feel conflicted. He had come here with the intention of eventually going home. He had people in LA, a home, a life, possibly a new job doing what he really wanted to do. I had those things, too, but here. We had our homes, and they weren’t in the same place. We didn’t really speak that explicitly about the time we would have to part, but everything that had happened today had just bubbled it up to the surface for me, and I didn’t know what to do. “Well, it worked,” I said offhandedly, trying not to give away too much of what I was feeling. “Nate Stone’s still a hot news item even after being AWOL for the whole summer,” he joked. “Are they going to be back?” “Maybe,” he sighed. “I feel like this is my fault. Joseph said he’d make sure they didn’t make their way back onto the resort property again,” I said. “Don’t sweat it. It’ll prep me for going back home probably,” he said. Again. When

could we stop talking about this? It was making me anxious. I didn’t want to think about when he was leaving, but every time he talked about it, I was forced to face reality. I wasn’t trying to delude myself into thinking I would be the reason he gave up on his future, but I could keep imagining that we had more time left than just a few measly weeks. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know anything but the fact that I really, really wanted to be with him, and the thought of him leaving filled me with a dread I’d never experienced. We took a slow walk back to my place after eating. We used the back steps, walking up onto the porch. “You want to sleep here tonight?” he asked. It wasn’t a question of whether we would spend the night together anymore; it was a question of where. I didn’t want to fall asleep without him. “Can we?” I asked. It didn’t make that much of a difference where since in the morning one of us would have to leave inevitably to get ready, or in my case, clock into work. Still, seeing him in my space made his presence in my life feel a little more permanent. It wasn’t much of a win, but I was taking what I could get. It wasn’t that late, and I wasn’t that tired. I looked for a movie we could watch together while he was in the shower. I wanted to do the things that I did alone, but with him. I wanted to catch up on all the things that normal couples got to do together with him before he had to leave. He joined me on the couch fifteen minutes into Love and Other Drugs. He sat next to me, and I lay on my back with my head in his lap. He played with my hair as we watched. If he wasn’t as invested as I was, at least he was watching it with me. Maybe he thought Anne Hathaway was hot.

“I’m picking the next movie; this one is a bummer,” he said. “It’s beautiful,” I complained. “She’s dying; it’s fucking sad as hell.” Yeah, I thought, but in the end, she still allowed herself to enjoy the time that she had with the man she loved. That sounded so unfortunately familiar. “Can I tell you a secret?” I asked him, turning so I was looking right up at him instead of the movie. He looked down at me. “Go on.” “After we stopped talking, Makani and I had a girls’ night and we spent hours watching these movies and talking shit about the girls who fell in love with the male leads.” “Was that my fault?” he asked. “It was my fault for dealing with rejection poorly.” “It was mine for rejecting you,” he said, stroking my hair. He leaned down and kissed me sweetly. “I’m sorry I ruined romantic comedies for you,” he said. I smiled. “Apology accepted,” I said. “You can pick the next one.” I started dozing off halfway through one of the Fast and Furious movies. It was totally his fault, though. We were spooning, and how the hell was I supposed to stay awake in that position? I was drifting off for the tenth time when I felt his lips on my cheek. “Tired?” he asked. I turned onto my back so I could look at him. “Mm-hmm.” He kissed my forehead and shifted from behind me, turning my laptop off and disappearing for a second before returning with a blanket. He lay on the couch, pulling me into him so I was resting on his chest.

“We should go to the bed,” I mumbled sleepily. “You should go back to sleep,” he said, resting one of his hands on my back. Did I sleep better with him, or was everything better with him because I loved being with him so much? If he stays, this doesn’t have to end, I thought. If he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to pursue his music career. I breathed him in deeply because my reality wouldn’t be better than my fantasies for much longer. In a perfect world where we weren’t who we were, he could have stayed. I couldn’t be the reason Nate Stone didn’t get a chance at the music career that he deserved. I couldn’t do that to him. I wouldn’t.

Chapter Thirty-Five Nate “Are you doing anything tonight?” Abby asked me. She was dressed for work, and I was still in bed. Watching her get ready for work every day was something I would miss the shit out when I had to leave. If I was leaving. I was trying not to think that much about it, but had sort of resigned myself to what was happening. It was stupid to pretend that I didn’t have to make a decision. Just because I had to leave didn’t mean we couldn’t make it work somehow. “No. Are you busy tonight?” I asked. We were together more than we were apart at this point. Since Makani and Keno were spending more time together now, I had Abby almost all to myself. It was a little odd that she was asking whether I was busy. As far as I knew, we were spending the night together. “I am, actually. So are you,” she said, sitting next to me on the bed. “We only have one week left.” I closed my eyes. “Don’t remind me.” “I want to do something for you tonight. Something special.” “Movies and room service is already perfect. What do you want to do?” “It’s a surprise. I’m picking you up at seven o’clock sharp.” “Where are we going?” “You still can’t deal with surprises, can you?” she said smiling. “All you need to do is be ready for me to pick you up at seven. Oh. And get yourself a suit.”

“Now you gotta tell me,” I insisted. She smirked and kissed me before walking away. “Seven sharp. Don’t be late,” she said before walking out. I laughed a little as I went back to my suite. This is basically what I had done to her, and she had hated every second of it until the point that we were actually on our date. I needed to get a suit, so I figured that was what we were doing, going on a date. A sit-down dinner some place. That was cool. It didn’t make that much of a difference to me, as long as we were together. I’d eat leftover white rice and pineapple slices with her on her porch as long as we were doing it together. Fuck. Getting on that plane was going to kill me. Sure, I got to remember everything that we had while we had it, but fuck that. I didn’t want a goddamn memory because that meant we’d still be apart. I took a shower and got changed before sitting at the piano. I had gotten the call about the contract on Monday. It was Friday today. Wes Barry had hit me up again for an update, but I had managed to get him to give me a little more time, like a week, before I told him anything. I fed him some bullshit about tying up loose ends with Remus, and he bought it or pretended to buy it. All I wanted was more time. This decision was more than just making music in LA again. It was also breaking up with this girl who I didn’t even know I wanted or needed. I was getting up to grab something to write on when I heard a knock on my door. I went to get it and found Keno was standing there in a shirt and khakis, not his uniform. “Keno?” “You look like you were expecting someone else,” he said. “No, I’m just surprised. Don’t you have work?”

“You need a suit today,” he said. “How do you know that?” I asked. He smirked and shook his head. “You’re getting nothing out of me, brother. Come on, let’s go.” I didn’t like this. I knew I didn’t have to worry about it or anything, but Abby had accomplices now; what the fuck was going on? I bet if I asked Makani what was happening, she’d stonewall me, too. We ended up in his car, taking a short trip to a suit store in the city. I didn’t get a lot of suits since I didn’t have an office job. Guys who made music got away with a lot more. I had a couple in LA, but of course, I hadn’t brought them. Keno joined me after talking to the shop owner a little. They knew each other, just like everyone else on the island. “How are you and Makani doing?” I asked since it had been a little while since we were all together. “Great. It’s weird that you asked that, actually,” he said. “Oh yeah? Why?” “I’m gonna pop the question tonight,” he said. “No way. You’re gonna marry her?” “I’m gonna ask her to marry me. We talked about doing it before we broke up, and I think this time around she’s ready. I’m tired of waiting, you know? I love her. She’s it for me.” “You have a ring?” I asked. “I always have it on me. I’ve been thinking about doing it this whole week. I think tonight’s the night. She’s coming over, and you’re hanging out with Abby, so she won’t be

busy. I’ve talked to her parents already. It’s all set.” “I wish I had some words of advice, but my marriage failed,” I said. He laughed. “From what you’ve told me, you were married to the wrong girl. Are you ever going to do it again?” “Get married?” I didn’t really know, I realized. It hadn’t even been a year since the divorce, but Kirsten and I had dated a little while before we got married. I had needed that time; I had been so busy with the band, so we didn’t even get that much time together. It had been good some of the time, but she had left me. I had been a mess, and I couldn’t blame her for it, but what about that sickness and health bullshit? Whatever. What happened, happened. If we were still married, I never would have met Abby. “Yeah. You and Abby seem-” “Whoa, whoa, whoa — me and Abby?” “Of course. Who else would you marry?” he asked. “It’s been one summer, man. Not even that long. Like, half a summer.” “Sometimes that’s all it takes,” he said. “How long was it before you knew you loved Makani?” “Honestly? I told her I loved her after two months, but I knew I did weeks before. Sometimes you just know, Nate. I’ve seen the way you and Abby are.” “I like her a lot.” “Yeah, you like her so much you asked her to move to LA with you.” “That’s not happening. She doesn’t want to leave the island.” “If you want to stay with her, you’re going to find a way to make it work.”

“I know that. I just feel like she would never ask me for anything. She’d never say to me that she wanted me to stay. She’d tell me to go have a career and live my dream in LA.” “She’s a great girl,” he said. I knew that. I knew that probably better than most people. “I wish she’d tell me what she wanted.” “I think it’s pretty obvious what she wants,” Keno pointed out. “No, like for us. I want her to tell me whether she wants me or not.” “The ball’s in your court if she already told you she isn’t leaving.” “I just don’t know, man.” “You’ll make the right choice,” he said. That was easy for him to say. His girl wasn’t staying here while he moved back to LA for work. I had some time left, but I hated that the end was in sight. I found a suit that fit, and we went back to the resort. Keno went back to work while I hung out in my suite until I had to get ready for whatever Abby and I were going to do. I poured over the contract Wes Barry had sent me for hours till I had to give myself a break. Nothing in there was going to tell me I could have what I wanted and still stay in Lanai. Abby was at my door at seven sharp like she said she’d be. She looked gorgeous in a long, flowy white dress with her hair curled around her shoulders. “Ready?” she asked when I opened the door. “I’m nervous,” I said, joining her. “Are you about to blindfold me or something?” “Maybe later,” she said slyly. I felt that one right in my cock. I tried to guess where we were going, but she wouldn’t answer me. She was holding my hand, taking me

somewhere I wasn’t sure I had been before. The resort was big, and I mainly hung out in my suite or the bar. I never figured that they had a ballroom till Abby was pushing open the double doors and telling me to come inside. It was all decked out like there was an event that was supposed to happen. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought we were there for a party or something. The lights were dimmed, and there was a table at the far end with two covered plates on it. Tiny little Christmas lights were strung around the entire room, making it seem like we weren’t in Hawai’i anymore. “I wanted us to do something special so you’d remember more than my back porch when you went back home,” she said. “Do you like it?” “You did this?” “I asked Makani for some help, and Keno to make sure you got your suit,” she said. Fuck. I didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever done shit like this for me. I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t know why people had taken from me all my life. I didn’t mind doing stuff for people, but it was different when they did it for me. I mean, especially Abby. I was a week away from leaving her, and she was here trying to make sure I was still having a good time. I didn’t know what to do. “I love it, Abby,” I said honestly. “Come on, let’s eat.” She led me to the table and uncovered the plates. It was musubi and loco moco, the first things we ate together when we first started hanging out. I knew I could get Hawai’ian food in LA, but it wouldn’t taste the same without her. “I can’t believe you did all this,” I said, as we ate. “I wanted to thank you.” “For what?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you in my life, Nate. I thought I had an idea about who you were since I listened to your band, but then I met you, and you were so much more interesting and unique than I could have imagined,” she said. “Please, Abby. You helped me stop using,” I said. “You let me see the person behind the music I fell in love with, and I’ll never forget that. Thank you, Nate,” she said. She was smiling, but I could tell she wasn’t one hundred percent tonight. “I’m so lucky I met you,” I said. “Don’t forget me when you’re successful and living the dream in LA,” she said lightly. I laughed. I was hanging onto this till the day I died. We finished our dinner and ended up on the beach, neither of us really wanting the night to end so soon. I was holding her hand and trying to forget that in a few days I wouldn’t be able to. The ocean water quietly crept up the shore, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. We got to her house, and I let her climb up the porch first, standing there in the bright, yellow light with her. I felt like I was walking her home after a date and she was about to say goodnight and go inside alone, which was not what I wanted, not tonight. Not any night. “Would you like to come inside?” she asked. I smirked. “When have I ever said no to that?” She giggled and looked down. She was nervous about something. I felt her take my hand. She was looking up at me, and her eyes were glossy like she was holding back tears. “I’ve never done this with anyone before,” she whispered. “It’s okay,” I said.

“You aren’t even gone, and I miss you already,” she said. A single tear fell down her cheek. “Don’t cry, babe. I’m still here.” “I just want you to be happy,” she said, sniffing. “I want to be selfish and tell you to stay with me, but I can’t stop you from getting what you truly want. I would hate myself if I ever stopped you.” I hugged her and kissed the top of her head. I hated seeing her cry. I knew she’d be sad when we had to split, but watching her was killing me. She pushed against my chest, so she was looking up at me again. Her nose was pink and her cheeks streaked with tears. “I couldn’t let you leave without telling you that I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like this in my life.” “I love you, too,” I said. I cupped her face and kissed her. Her cheeks were wet from her tears. She wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, tasting her. I loved how she tasted. I loved how she felt. I loved being with her, being inside her. I loved everything about her. She was perfect, and for the next week at least, she was mine. I pulled away looking down at her. “Open the door,” I told her. She turned and unlocked the door, pushing it open. I scooped her up into my arms and kicked the door shut, walking over to her bed and dropping her onto the mattress, taking my suit jacket off. Abby sat up on the bed in front of me, undoing my shirt buttons one by one. I started on my pants; this couldn’t happen fast enough. I wanted her. I loved her, and I wanted to show her how much.

Chapter Thirty-Six Abby I love you. That was all I wanted to tell him. I didn’t care whether he said it back or not. I just needed him to know. It didn’t matter that he was leaving because it wouldn’t change that. I wanted to cry when he said it back. Nothing else mattered. Just me and him. He pulled me up off the bed, so he could get me out of my dress. He undid the zipper, and it fell to my feet. He lifted me into his arms again, letting me wrap my legs around him. I tangled my fingers in his hair, kissing him slowly while he lowered me gently onto the bed, climbing on top of me. I ran my fingers through his hair, leaning back into the pillow as he kissed my neck and jaw. I gasped, feeling him suck one of my nipples on his way down my body. I watched him, needing to see him. It would never feel like this with anyone ever again. If I never met another person after him, it wouldn’t make a difference to me. I knew I would never feel more connected to another man the way I felt to him. His stubble tickled my stomach as he kissed down my body, down between my legs. His big hands held my thighs apart as his tongue teased my clitoris. He sucked it between his lips, making me moan and writhe against him. I felt my wetness seep out of me. I felt brazen and exposed as he pleasured me. I knew he would lick every inch of my body if I wanted him to. My eyes fluttered shut, feeling him push two fingers inside me as his tongue continued to assault my clit.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered. His free hand ran up my body, squeezing my breast. I covered it with mine, feeling him push me closer and closer to orgasm with his hand and mouth. I loved how his fingers felt, stretching me wider than I ever could with my own hand. I panted, moving my hips to meet the thrusts of his hand. His tongue was slow and firm. He kept his rhythm steady even though I was squirming. My stomach started to clench, and I felt my climax start to build. His fingers grazed a place deep inside me that pushed me over the edge. I bucked my hips forward, coming. He didn’t stop, licking and fucking me with his fingers till my body had completely stilled. He kissed my inner thigh and sat up on his knees. I took his hand and sucked the two fingers that had been inside me into my mouth, moaning. He watched me with lust-darkened eyes. He held my thighs and pulled me towards him on the bed, running his hands over them. He looked at me like he was trying to burn it in his memory. I noticed his furrowed brow and pained expression. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, touching his face. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You’re beautiful, Abby,” he said. He kissed me sweetly, gently pushing me back down to the mattress. He got off the bed and quickly walked over to my closet where I had some condoms, retrieving one. I watched him slip it on before he climbed back onto the bed and settled between my open legs. His penis was so hard it stood straight up, against his stomach. I was wet and ready for him; I knew he could see how much with my legs spread open the way they were. He ran the head of his dick over my opening, pushing ever so slightly into me with his thick head before pulling back out. It killed me. The friction against my lips tied knots in my stomach. I wanted him to take me. I wanted to feel him stretch me and fuck me deeper than anybody ever had before.

“Please, Nate,” I whispered desperately. Sweat had broken out over my brow, and my voice was quivering. He complied, slowly feeding his hard, thick penis into me. I held my breath as he filled me, feeling him take up space that was already his. He leaned forward over me, thrusting in and out slowly as he kissed my cheek and neck softly. I ran my hand over his shoulders and biceps, hard under his skin from the effort of holding himself up. He was usually a lot more urgent. We would usually fuck first and kiss and cuddle later. It was never really slow and intimate the way it was now. We were both after something different this time. I wanted my body to tell him what I meant when I said I loved him. I wanted him to know that I was laying it all out on the table. Even if he was leaving, he was taking part of me with him. We kissed as he thrust into me, building a steady rhythm. I felt his deep, steady strokes in my entire body. I was soaked, turned on beyond belief by the man on top of me. I moaned as he made love to me. His hands touched my face, my breasts, my hips, leaving hot trails on my sensitive skin. I felt his weight press into me as he angled his hips to thrust deeper, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I felt his powerful back flex under my hand as he slid sensuously in and out of my body. He was so hard and firm, but he handled me so gently. I loved feeling his weight bear down on me while we were so intimately joined. His presence possessed me, on top of me, inside of me, one with me. “I love you,” I whispered. “Say it again,” he choked. “I love you, Nate,” I said breathily. I felt him speed up, shifting off of me to thrust harder. He went faster, stoking the

flame inside of me into an inferno. His vigorous strokes rocked through me harder and harder until I felt myself fall. I came, crying out, feeling myself come to pieces in Nate’s arms. He went harder still, groaning as he climaxed before he slowed to a languorous stroke, and finally became still. He held my face and kissed me hard. “I love you, too,” he said, looking into my eyes. Everything else became a drone in the background. That was all that mattered.

Chapter Thirty-Seven Nate I needed to stop doing this. I bet Abby never sat in bed staring at me sleeping when she got up before I did. A little while ago, it had made me feel like a creep, but now it almost felt necessary. I loved her. I couldn’t believe I had her in my life. I couldn’t believe that the day was coming when I wouldn’t anymore. I still had to figure out what to do. The call hadn’t been made yet, so technically, it wasn’t official that anything was changing. God, I already hated myself for leaving her, and I hadn’t done it yet. I didn’t fucking want to. It was as simple as that. I was healthy, happy, and in love. What the fuck did I still need? I had loved music since I was a kid. I had put everything I had into Remus, writing my best songs, giving up years of my life just to make sure we got somewhere. But then we did, and what the fuck had it been for? Money? Remus was supposed to make me happy. Waking up every day to make music was supposed to make me happy, and all it had done was get me on a plane here trying to escape it all. I couldn’t believe it, but Keno had been right. I was still trying to plan for something I could take because it was right in front of me. I loved this place. I loved this tiny island where nobody knew who I was, and I loved this girl who helped me beat my addiction and was more beautiful inside and out than anyone I’d ever met in my life. I lived in a million-dollar condo in downtown LA, and I’d never been happier than I was right now in a beachfront hut with Abby. I’d spend the rest

of my life in this bed with her. That was it. Why was I still looking? I had found it. I slid out of the bed and pulled my underwear on before walking out onto the porch. Abby had a hell of a view. The morning was clear and sunny, and the beach had just a few people on it. I checked the time; LA was a couple hours ahead of here, but it was still early, sometime before nine. Whatever. He was the one who wanted to hear from me, wasn’t he? I dialed Wes Barry’s number and waited for him to pick up. “Nate, how are you?” he asked cheerfully. I smiled. I was about to ruin his day if he thought I had good news for him. “Great. Listen. About that contract?” I said. “Did you like what you saw?” he asked. Objectively, yeah. It was a good-looking contract. Lots of money, agency, freedom, everything I thought I wanted, which I would take if the trade wasn’t so damn shitty. “It’s a pass, Wes. I can’t take the deal.” He was silent for a beat. “What’s wrong with the contract? We can negotiate if-” “It’s great. Really. I just don’t want it.” “You sure, kid? An opportunity like this doesn’t come along every day,” he warned. A girl like Abby didn’t either. “I’m sure. Thanks again for the offer,” I said, hanging up. The door creaked open behind me, and Abby came out to the porch. She was in a tank top and shorts – with no bra underneath, I couldn’t help notice. “Hey,” I said holding my arm out. She walked into my embrace, hugging me.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” she asked looking up at me. “It is now,” I said smiling. I sat in one of the chairs and she sat on the other. “Who was that?” “Remember the producer who called me offering a contract last week?” I asked. “I remember.” “I called to tell him I was turning down his offer.” “You’re kidding.” “Nope. I told him I didn’t want it.” “What are you going to do instead?” “I guess I’m staying. Know anyone looking for a roommate?” I asked. She beamed at me, crying and laughing and glowing with joy. In half a second, she was out of her seat and on top of me, and both of us were on the floor. She kissed me, pinning me between her and the floor of the porch. I laughed, stroking her hair. Best decision I had ever made. “Are you sure?” she asked, sitting up on my lap. “I’m positive.” “What about your life in LA?” “You’re the most important thing in my life, Abby. Nobody there is going to miss me.” “What about your dad?” she asked. He didn’t live in LA, but she had a point. I needed to tell him. I asked her to grab my phone off the table and called him, putting him on speaker.

“Hello?” he asked, picking up. “Dad? It’s me,” I said, hugging Abby close. “How are you, son? What’s going on?” “I wanted to tell you something. I got an offer to make music in LA solo from this guy, Wes Barry,” I told him. “That’s great news. Did you want a lawyer to look at the contract?” “No need. I turned it down.” “You did? Why? I thought that was what you wanted.” he said. I looked at Abby. “It was, but things changed. I’m not coming back to LA. I’m staying on Lanai.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m finally happy here, Dad. LA was poison. I don’t want to go back. There’s nothing keeping me there.” “I’m going to support your decision, son. Your health should be your first priority. Are you happy there?” “I am. I actually have something else to tell you. I met someone.” “You did? On the island?” he asked. “Yeah. We’ve been seeing each other this summer. She helped me a lot with my addiction. She’s right here; do you want to talk to her?” I asked, looking at Abby. She was biting her lip nervously. I squeezed her leg reassuringly. “Sure, put her on.” “G-good morning, Mr. Stone,” Abby said timidly. “I’m Abby. Nate and I have been seeing each other.”

“Good morning, Abby. I suppose I have you to thank for Nate being in such a good mood lately?” he asked. I laughed as Abby blushed. “Lanai is Hawai’i’s most enticing island, I can’t take credit for that,” she said, making him laugh. “You have a remarkable son, Mr. Stone.” “I think so, too. Don’t tell him I said that,” he joked. “You watch out for him out there. Don’t let him get into trouble.” “Of course, sir. I care deeply about him,” she said, smiling at me. “He needs more people like you in his life. Is he still there?” “I’m here, Dad,” I said, holding Abby close to my chest. “What’s your plan of action?” he asked. “Are you going to work over there? You can still record music and distribute it independently,” he said. “I have a couple options,” I said, smiling at Abby.

Chapter Thirty-Eight Abby “Are you going to tell me how last night turned out?” Makani asked. We had just finished the lei greeting and were waiting for the performances to start. It was the last luau of the season before the post-summer slump. “He loved the dinner,” I started. “Yes, and? Did you tell him?” “I told him. He said it back,” I said, smiling. “Now, see, what took you so long?” she said, scolding me playfully. “I don’t do this sort of thing, Makani. I didn’t even know if what I was feeling was love.” “At least you told him. I’m glad you decided not to let him leave without telling him.” “Leave? Who’s leaving?” I asked. Makani’s eyes widened. “He’s not leaving? You convinced him to stay?” “I didn’t do anything. He just told me this morning that he wasn’t going back. He turned down a deal this producer had for him in LA and said he didn’t have anything to go back to there. He wants to stay here.” “Permanently?” she asked. “I hope so. I talked to his dad this morning.” “What? That’s major. He wouldn’t let you unless he was really serious.”

“I guess,” I said giggling. “I’m just so happy. I didn’t realize how stressed out it was making me, preparing to see him go. I feel like I can just enjoy him now. I can kiss him and not worry that I won’t be able to again, you know?” “I’m really happy for you, Abby. Both of you. I think you guys saved each other this summer.” “Saved?” I scoffed. “You showed up at just the right time. You both had things you needed to get over, and you helped each other out.” I shrugged. I guess you could look at it that way. “Maybe,” I said. “Maybe? I hardly even know you anymore. I’ve never met loved-up Abby before.” I laughed. “I could say the same about you. I finally have both my friends back now,” I said, referring to her and Keno. “About that…” she said. I panicked. “About that what? Did you guys break up again?” “I guess he technically is my ex-boyfriend if he’s my fiancé now,” she said. I squealed, making her laugh. “When were you going to tell me? Where’s the ring?” “I was going to show you today, but Keno took it back because we had to get it resized.” “Oh my God, Makani, congratulations. This is so great,” I said, hugging her. “I guess we both won this summer,” she said. “I’ll say. When’s the wedding?” “This winter. We don’t have to wait. We were talking about doing this already before

the breakup. The only reason we’re having a ceremony is because of our families.” “And me. I’d never forgive you if you eloped,” I teased. “You’re next,” she said, grinning. “Slow down,” I laughed. “We’re not in a hurry.” “He’s moving here now, so you have all the time in the world,” she mused. I smiled. It felt like a dream. Nate had told me what he was doing, and I had heard him tell his father what he was doing, but for some reason, him going to Joseph and telling him that he was interested in a regular performing position at the hotel was what really sealed the deal for me and made it feel real. Even better, was he was performing tonight. This was one of his options. He had creative freedom and would get paid to make music. I didn’t know whether he saw himself doing this when he was thinking about a career in music, but this took away the stress of the cutthroat, money-hungry industry that had screwed him over before. Just him and his music the way that he wanted. I had watched him do this enough times that it shouldn’t have taken my breath away, but it did. I hooted and clapped with the audience when he took the stage. I watched, completely drawn by his presence on stage and his amazing music. I felt happy and smug knowing that the incredible man on stage was coming home with me. They thought they had him, but he was all mine. Makani, Keno, and I were waiting with drinks for Nate when he came off the stage. “How’d I do?” he asked, coming up to the bar where we were waiting. I kissed him, handing him a drink. “Amazing. As usual.” “I heard the good news. You’re one of us now,” Makani said to him.

“I heard yours, too, congratulations,” he said. “How did you know before I did?” I asked. “I told him,” Keno said. “Since you’re both here, I think it goes without saying that you’re both in the wedding party,” Makani said. “How did he ask you? Did he get down on one knee?” I asked her. “You gotta propose on one knee,” Nate said. “I go to the house, and he tells me he’s waiting for me in the garden. I go out there, and it’s completely dark. I can’t see him anywhere. I start going back into the house, and suddenly all these lamps turn on and he’s standing there. He comes up to me and tells me that I’m the love of his life and he wants to spend the rest of his life with me,” Makani said, beaming. Keno stood next to her with his arm around her waist. “Nice. Did she cry?” Nate asked Keno. I swatted him on the chest. What kind of question was that? “Oh, yeah,” Keno said, laughing. “You were trying to make me cry?” Makani asked him. “That’s when you know you knocked it out of the park,” Nate said. “Only happy tears, honey,” Keno said to Makani. “How soon before we can expect kids?” Nate asked. Makani blushed and Keno laughed, hugging her to his side. “Nate, you gotta slow down. At least let us get married first. You know, you remind me of this story I heard-” “No. Don’t. Just don’t,” Makani said, cutting him off.

“You don’t want to hear it?” he asked. “No,” Nate and I said at the same time. Makani kissed his cheek, laughing. He could be a little long winded sometimes; we weren’t trying to stay up all night. We hung out while the luau shut down and said goodbye to Makani and Keno, making our way down to the beach to my place. I smiled making the walk, thinking we’d do this often: take walks on the beach. I had put it all on the line, falling for Nate, and here we were going home together. There was no more doubt. No more fear. No more anxiety. Only us, and the future. “I’m really happy you decided to stay,” I told him. “I am, too.” “I think living here is going to be good for you.” “Being with you is going to be good for me,” he said. “I love you, Nate.” “I love you too, babe.” “Are you excited?” I asked carefully. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine Nate Three Months Later I’d never been to a Hawai’ian wedding before. Keno’s family had wanted something a lot more traditional, while Makani’s family was a little more modern. They came to a compromise that looked like a wedding of about one hundred people at a public park overlooking the ocean. It had only been three months since Keno had proposed. I asked him over and over whether it was happening so fast because she was pregnant, but he kept denying it. It didn’t matter anyway. They were getting married. I was happy for them. After Kirsten, I had to admit, I wasn’t that excited to try doing it again. Maybe it really did come down to whether you were marrying the right person. Keno thought Makani made the sun rise every morning, and hey, I got it. I thought Abby was an actual angel, and I had just been the lucky shmuck she had felt sorry for and decided to give some love to. I had loved Kirsten, but I didn’t remember feeling what I saw between Keno and Makani with her. I didn’t remember feeling for her what I felt for Abby. Maybe that was a sign that I wouldn’t be paying Abby a divorce settlement in the future when it all went to shit, but I didn’t see the need to rush anything. She was still in school, and I was still moving my life from LA to Lanai. I had had to have a few flights back just to arrange everything and make sure I wiped that slate clean. I

was stoked on Lanai. I understood why Abby and Keno loved it so much. It certainly didn’t hurt that I had some actual friends now. I had gone almost twenty-eight years of my life without having ever been a groomsman at someone’s wedding. It was kind of embarrassing when I thought about it. Kirsten and I had had a really small ceremony at my house with like, ten guests. It hadn’t felt anything like this. The people who weren’t family were friends, colleagues, and people who had known Makani and Keno since they were young. There were old teachers, former classmates, people who worked at the market in the city, everyone. I liked it. It was great feeling like you belonged to a community. It was like it was everyone’s big day, not just theirs. Speaking of big day, Keno had been nervous as fuck since we had gotten to the ceremony. He had been asking me how to deal, but I wasn’t sure if he wanted advice from someone who had ended up getting a divorce. I just told him to wait till Makani showed up, then he’d be able to calm down. I was standing at the front of the ceremony waiting for it to begin with him, his brother who was his best man, and one other guy who was his last groomsman. Makani walked down the aisle to the Hawai’ian Wedding Song instead of the bridal march most people knew. Before she did, though, her bridal party walked down the aisle. I watched the other girls walk down the aisle waiting for Abby’s turn. She was maid of honor, so she went in just before Makani. She and Keno were wearing white, but her bridesmaids, Abby included, had these long, flowy dresses that were cotton-candy pink. She took my breath away coming down the aisle. She looked really pretty in the dress, but she had these white flowers in her hair

and I don’t know, maybe it was because we were at a wedding and she was walking down an aisle. It put some crazy ideas in my head. That was my girl. Where the fuck would I be if she hadn’t come to my suite that day to tell me to come to the luau? Definitely not here. I was coming up on six months dope free, we were living together, and I had just gotten more and more requests from producers to work with them. She did that. Even if I had managed to stop using on my own, if we hadn’t met, if she hadn’t refused to give up on me, I would have gone back to LA and probably ended up trying to make it work again with Remus, which would have driven me fucking crazy. I was happy. I had forgotten what it felt like to wake up and want to go back to sleep because everything sucked. I liked where I was and the people I was around. I loved her. She was the brightest and best thing in my life. She had met my dad, and he had felt the same way. She was perfect. The ceremony was really nice. It really said something that the two of them were together again after they had broken up. Not every couple was like that. I thought I deserved a little credit helping them patch things up, but I didn’t tell them. It was their wedding — I could just do it during the toasts. The reception was a huge luau-style party. The feast was ridiculous; eating here had ruined me for other food whenever I had to fly back to the mainland. Abby was picking off my plate at our table. Being part of the wedding party, we were all sitting together. There was an open bar, but we didn’t need booze tonight. “How does it feel to be married?” Abby asked Makani. “Amazing,” she said, smiling.

“Hold on to that. Whenever he pisses you off, just remember women live longer than men do. He’s going out first,” I said. “Not all of us are cynics like you, Nate,” Keno said, laughing. “When he fucks up, just tell me. I’ll sort him out,” I told her. She laughed. “I’ll take that as an invitation to make Abby the same promise,” she said. “Am I still on probation?” I asked, laughing. “You’ve lasted this long without messing up,” Keno said. “It never ends,” Makani said. “We’re sort of a package deal.” She wasn’t kidding. That was sort of what life here was about: that weird closeness you develop when there’s so few of you around. It would take getting used to, but I was getting there. Any day of the week, this beat LA, hands down. The entertainment began, and I went up on stage to perform a song I had written with the wedding band. That was sort of my thing now. I only did things that I cared about for people I cared about. It was a hell of a way to live. I didn’t know why I hadn’t started earlier.

Epilogue Abby Two Years Later Something I always thought would make me love Lanai even more than I already did was being able to see the sun rise over the water instead of setting. The morning sun had just begun illuminating our bedroom. I was awake, just sort of slipping in and out of wakefulness, enjoying the feel of the sun on my naked body and the sound of Nate’s playing infiltrating the rest of the house from the living room. The wall facing the water in our bedroom wasn’t a wall at all. It was all glass, with a sliding door that opened onto a balcony. He had asked for it just for me, knowing how I felt about mornings. We had gone back and forth about the design of the house for months before agreeing on something that was small enough for me to be comfortable in, and grand enough for Nate to feel like he was giving me a gift by having it built. I had been a little sad about leaving my beachside hut near the Four Seasons, but this place was nice, too. We had designed it from the ground up, and Nate had called it my present for our one year anniversary when we had moved in. I had wanted something small and cozy for two people to live in that didn’t feel cold and empty. He had drawn inspiration from a beachfront villa he and his parents would stay in when they would come to Hawai’i when he was a child. The compromise had been a scaled down villa on the eastern coast of the island overlooking the beach. It was secluded, but not isolated. We had our privacy, but the city

was less than twenty minutes away when we really wanted to go. I stretched in the sunlight like a lizard basking on a rock. Nate often played in the morning. His inspiration hit at the strangest times, but I loved when the sun was just creeping up the horizon and his playing infiltrated my fading dreams. I could hear his voice, too; he was singing. He composed and wrote more than he sang, so it was always a treat when he did. It was time to get up. I wasn’t even tired anymore; I was just being lazy. I had graduated a while back, and the summer peak season had just come to an end. I was enjoying my days off after a busy season. I climbed out of bed and walked to our split closet. I pulled on a pair of panties and grabbed one of his worn old t-shirts to go downstairs in. I walked down the stairs, following the music. The closer I got, the clearer I heard the song. I recognized it. It was the one he had written for me his first summer here. He tended to play a lot of the old stuff he had written with Remus, too. He had distanced himself from the band since he had ventured out on his own solo career, but since he had writing credits on so many of the band’s songs, people were constantly finding out about Nate through the band anyway. If the balcony upstairs was for me, the recording studio basement was for him. I had felt he needed it to make up for the fact that we lived so far from Los Angeles where the people he collaborated with lived. Having a studio at home meant he didn’t always have to leave when he needed to record. The times he did have to travel for shows were bad enough, especially when I couldn’t join him. His beautiful grand piano was in the living room. I walked into the room seeing him, but stopped. It was starting to get light outside, but the room was illuminated with soft yellow light from candles on the mantle and coffee table. A sea of blood red rose petals

covered the floor between me and Nate at the piano. The scene was soft and romantic, but we’d already celebrated two years a couple weeks ago. I didn’t know what this was for. “Nate?” I called carefully, walking into the room, feeling petals beneath my feet. The playing stopped, and he looked over his shoulder at me. He didn’t have a shirt on. He was on the bench in just a pair of pajama pants. He smiled seeing me and waved me over. “Morning, babe,” he said, grinning. “Hey,” I said smiling, walking up to the bench. I sat next to him with my back to the piano so I could face him. He kissed me sweetly. “What happened in here?” I asked. “Do you like it?” “It’s beautiful, but I don’t know what we’re celebrating.” “Do I need a reason to do something nice for you?” he asked, smiling. “This is for me?” “Everything I do is for you, Abby,” he said. It had been two years of hearing him say things like that to me, and they still never failed to fill me up with insane pleasure. He was a songwriter; he knew how to say things to make them sound the sweetest, but that wasn’t even where it stopped. I believed him when he said things to me because he was generous with his words, his heart, his body, his money. He gave me everything. “I love it,” I said. “Thank you.” “I love doing things for you; don’t mention it. I should be the one thanking you,” he said. “Me? What for?” I asked. “For all the delicious food you make me, for coming with me on tour, for being my

biggest supporter,” he said making a list. “I do those things because I love you, Nate. You don’t have to thank me.” “I wouldn’t be able to do anything without you, Abby,” he said. “Oh, come on. What were you doing before we met?” “Nothing,” he said seriously. “Nothing good. I wasn’t making music, I was high all the time; I was a junkie.” I sighed. I remembered. The more distance we gained from the time, the more dire it seemed in my remembrance of it. We were both here on the other side of it, in love and stronger than ever, but when we had met, this man that he was today was somewhere obscured behind the pain of a broken dream, a failed marriage, and addiction. It was hard to think sometimes that he was the same person. His left arm was covered in beautiful, dark tattoos instead of track scars now. He was inspired and healthy, and through it all, he was still the creative, beautiful soul I’d been drawn to when we met. “All that happened in the past. You aren’t that person anymore. You got better, and you took your career back.” “I didn’t do shit, Abby. You’re the one who got me here.” “I just didn’t let you ignore me,” I said, smiling. “You treated me like I was someone worth saving,” he said. “I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t driven me crazy the first summer I got here.” I smiled, remembering how upset he would get when I’d wake him up in the morning. “Yes, you would, Nate,” I said. “I’m not the one who beat your addiction — you are.” “If you weren’t there, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. You were it, Abby. You still

are. I’m alive because of you, and you deserve every last one of the years I have left on this earth.” I felt my eyes well up. “You don’t owe me anything, Nate. Here and now with you is enough.” He shook his head. “I don’t want here and now Abby; I want every day.” I watched him stand and round the bench. “Abby,” he said quietly. He took one of my hands and sunk down on one knee. My heart started pounding as I realized what was happening. “Every good thing in my life I can trace back to you. I had nothing when we met, and you gave me everything. I didn’t know what unconditional love felt like before I met you and when I think of the future, you’re the only thing I know I can’t live without. I have a life because of you, and I don’t want to live life without you.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t, my throat was closed, and tears were pouring down my face. I saw him reach into his pajama pants pocket and pull out a ring. “Abby Terrell, I love you, and I don’t want to live a life without you in it. Marry me?” I nodded because I couldn’t speak. He slid the ring on my finger and stood up. I looked at it. It was a beautiful pink stone in a rose-gold band. “I thought…” “You thought I’d never ask you?” “I thought you didn’t want to do it again,” I said. “I didn’t want to do it again with the wrong person,” he said. “You’re the right person, Abby. You’re the only person. Do you want to be my wife?” “Yes,” I said, looking up at him. “Of course. I just want to make you happy.” “You already do, babe,” he said. I smiled. He made me happy, too. Happy, excited,

passionate…full. He was my missing piece to paradise. Now I had everything.

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CONVICTION By Claire Adams This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams

Prologue Ollie I had told her not to, but she went ahead and did it anyway.

“Of course I’m gonna make a cake for my baby on his eighteenth birthday!” my mother said when I protested. She was having trouble sticking the candles into the cake; the latest round of chemo had left her weaker than I’d ever seen, her bones brittle, her skin papery and translucent. “Ma,” I said. “Two candles is fine. Really.” She had that look on her face, though, and I knew she’d press on until all eighteen candles were in place. “Now, Ollie,” she said. “I don’t want you to be too disappointed this year. It’s been hard for me to get around, you know that, so getting you a birthday present was a bit of a challenge.” “You don’t need to get me anything.” My mother coughed, a painful, wet hacking sound. I gritted my teeth so I wouldn’t cringe. Her last round of chemo had been exactly that—her last. At her appointment last week, Dr. Gordon had given her a hug, the look on his face clearly saying he knew this was probably the last time he’d see her. There was no reason to continue the chemo, he’d told us. The cancer, which had started in her lungs, was everywhere. Now it was just a matter of making her as comfortable as we could until she finally decided to let go. Somehow, though, while I’d been at work over at Garrett Wilson’s ranch, she’d summoned enough energy to bake a cake. From a box, but still. She still had to pour, stir, and measure a few ingredients. Cooking and baking had always been her thing, though, and I knew she still felt that anything from a box was subpar. “It looks great, Ma,” I said. She sang happy birthday to me, pausing every couple of seconds to cough. I blew out the candles, knowing the wish I wanted to make wasn’t going to come true.

I didn’t feel like eating cake right then, but I started picking the candles out and putting them on a folded up paper napkin. “So, you’ve had a good birthday?” my mother asked, watching me as I pulled the candles out. “Yeah, Ma. It’s been good.” “You worked on your birthday! I would’ve thought you’d at least have taken the day off.” “Garrett would’ve given it to me if I asked, but I wanted to work.” It occurred to me after I said it that maybe she’d been hoping I would take the day off; this would be my last birthday she’d be around for. “I’ve got most of tomorrow off, though,” I said. “Just have to go over there in the morning. Early, though, and it shouldn’t take too long.” “What about Carolyn? Are you planning to see her tonight?” “Not tonight.” I decided to leave it at that, not wanting to elaborate that the next time I saw Carolyn would be to break up with her. We’d been high school sweethearts, and I thought at one point, I probably really did love her, but the feelings had just faded. It’d be better to break it off with her than to keep stringing her along. She didn’t deserve that. The problem was my mother’s feelings for her hadn’t faded, and if anything, had grown stronger over the months because she liked to imagine the grandchildren she thought we might give her one day. “And I know Darren should be calling any second to wish you happy birthday!” my mother said brightly. “I can’t wait to talk to him and hear all about the big city.” I looked at the stove clock, the glowing green numbers. My mother would be asleep soon. He wouldn’t call, I knew that, but I forced a smile. “He’s just so busy,” she said.

My older brother had fled Colorado the second he turned eighteen, landing in San Francisco, where he promptly came out of the closet and declared himself gay. I cut two slices of cake. She picked at hers, and I ate mine in four big bites, the sugar hurting my teeth and landing in my stomach like a big lump. “This is for you,” my mother said, pushing a rectangular wrapped box toward me. “Oh, Ma, you didn’t need to go out to the store and get me anything.” “It was no trouble at all. Marie and I went together and made a day of it. It was the nicest outing I’ve had in a while. I hope you like it,” she said. I began unwrapping the box. I didn’t even want to think about how long it must have taken her to wrap the thing in the first place. What a pointless waste, wrapping presents. Just to tear the paper off in about two seconds flat. So I went slowly, sliding my thumb underneath the first seam, popping the tape off. I set the paper aside and sat there with the box on my lap for a few seconds, before lifting the lid. There was tissue paper to be moved aside, which revealed a bright pink Scully shirt, embroidered across the torso with a floral design. It was about the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. “Wow,” I said, pulling it out of the box. “Would you look at that.” My mother beamed. “I wasn’t sure about it, but I called Darren and he said that you’d love it. He’s got such good fashion sense.” “He sure does.” I stood up and slid the pink shirt over the black t-shirt I was wearing. The thing fit all right, and my mother smiled in approval. “That looks wonderful!” she said. “Let me take a picture, and we can send it to your brother. I bet he’s going to call any second now.” “No, Ma, you don’t have to take a picture,” I said. “Darren doesn’t need a picture of

me in a pink shirt. I’m sure there’s plenty of guys wearing pink shirts out there, anyway.” “You’ll have to make sure you bring it when you go out and visit him,” she said. A sad look crossed her face. “It’s kind of like I’ll be out there too, since I bought you the shirt… I really wish I had enough time so we could all go out there together…” “Ma…” We hadn’t had the talk yet. Neither of us had admitted to the other that we knew she was going to die soon, that there likely wouldn’t be another Christmas, certainly not another summer, no more of the Fourth of July celebrations that she loved so much. Every time I’d sensed she was going to bring it up, I veered us away from that. Life was not fair, I knew that, but the whole situation with my mother was so far beyond fair I couldn’t really even think about it without becoming enraged. The doctors didn’t confirm it, but I knew her lung cancer was from breathing in all that secondhand smoke from my father, who had died just a few years earlier in a car accident. He was controlling and abusive, and even a blind person could see the immense weight that lifted from my mother’s shoulders once she was free from ever having to deal with him again. She was able to smile and mean it. She didn’t have to account for her whereabouts every second of every day. She was actually enjoying life. And then she got the news she had cancer, it was incurable, and she was going to die. There was nothing anyone could do about it. I didn’t want to have that conversation just yet. There was still time. It was running out, yes, but there was still time. She smiled. “I know,” she said. “We can talk about it another time. No need to be a Debbie Downer on your birthday! I better get to bed; I’m exhausted.” She looked at me once more, evaluating the shirt. “But that shirt sure does look nice on you.” “Thanks, Ma. I love it. I’ll wear it out tonight and show all the guys.” All the guys would give me a gigantic heap of shit for wearing such a thing, but I didn’t care. They’d have a laugh about it, and my mom would go to sleep knowing that I’d gone out in the gift

she’d given me. The Watering Hole was the hangout for all the locals, and because I’d grown up around here and had been working for Garrett Wilson since I was eleven, I was allowed into the bar even though I wasn’t twenty-one yet. And, as expected, there was a whole lot of hootin’ and hollerin’ from the guys when I walked in, wearing that pink shirt. I went over to the bar and the bartender, Lauren, slid me a bottle of beer. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she said with a grin. “Almost legal.” “Where the fuck did that shirt come from?” Alan, one of the guys I worked with on the ranch, asked as he came over and slung an arm around me. “Gift from my mother,” I said. “Told her I’d wear it out tonight and impress you all.” Alan grinned. “Figured something like that would be from your brother. But I guess it takes a real man to be able to wear pink like that out in public.” “How is your mom?” Lauren asked. “Hangin’ in there,” I said. “Tell her we’re thinking of her.” “I will.” I took a sip of the beer, cold and bitter as it went down my throat. Aside from it being my birthday, though, there wasn’t much different about tonight. It was Friday night, so the place was pretty busy, but I recognized almost all the faces—all except for a girl sitting at a table with a couple guys I went to high school with. Her back was to me, but when she turned, I saw her profile, and she wasn’t anyone I recognized. I sat at the bar and listened to Alan tell me about chasing down a few escaped heifers that almost made it into town. My phone was in the front pocket of my jeans, and I felt it

vibrate against my leg. I pulled it out and flipped it open to see who was calling. Carolyn. She’d want to know where I was, and if I told her I was here at the Watering Hole, she’d first give me shit for being at a bar when I wasn’t twenty-one, then she’d come down there and hang out. Carolyn was always after me to do the right thing. She’d want to leave the bar and go drive somewhere, somewhere that it could be just the two of us, and we could talk and she’d slide closer and closer to me and then we’d be kissing, and we’d probably have sex again. It had only happened once so far, just last week, actually, because Carolyn had wanted to wait. Only after did she tell me that she’d decided to do it this time because she knew that we’d eventually get married. Since then, there’d been several more opportunities to do the deed, and she certainly wanted to, but I couldn’t, not knowing that what I really needed to do was break up with her. I closed the phone and slipped it back in my pocket. “Carolyn,” I said. Alan smirked. “You hit that shit yet?” “Shut up,” I said. “’Cause if she was my girl…” “Really, Alan, shut up. You couldn’t fuck your way out of a wet paper bag.” “You gonna meet up with her tonight? She takes one look at that shirt and she’ll be on her back pronto. A shirt like that… That’s what they called a ‘lady killer.’” “Then I better take it off right now and give it to you, since we all know you need all the help you can get in that department.” “Someone buy this man another beer!” Alan shouted. I drank the second beer, ignored another call from Carolyn, and endured more goodnatured shit about my pink shirt. It was nice that everyone wanted to celebrate, but I

wasn’t really in the mood. I hung out for a while, but then decided to call it a night. That way, I could get up nice and early and get over to the ranch and help Garrett repair the fencing and then get back home to spend some time with my mother. Maybe I’d even take her over to the ranch to see the horses; being around them always seemed to lift her spirits. I heard something as I walked to my truck, though, a scuffling and then a girl’s voice saying, “No, stop it.” She wasn’t shouting or anything, and I almost kept walking, but then she said it again, a little more forcefully, but I also heard a note of fear. I turned to my right and saw that it was Isaac Wentworth, one of the guys I’d gone to high school with. He had graduated a few years before me, and we’d actually been in shop class together, but we were never what you’d call friends. He had a twin brother, Evan, and they had their little group of friends that always stuck together. You got the feeling that they were always planning something, scheming, devising some sort of plan to try to take over the world. Now, though, he had that girl pinned up against the truck. There was just enough moonlight for me to see that he’d pulled her shirt up, exposing her stomach and the top of her jeans. Her hands were pushing his away. “Hey,” I said. He ignored me. “Hey,” I said again, louder. Isaac turned his head, the bulk of him blocking the girl from my view. “What?” he said roughly. “What are you doing?” “Something that doesn’t require an audience. We’re fine, Ollie; we don’t need a chaperone.”

“I just want to go home,” the girl said. Isaac laughed. “The hell you do,” he said. “Don’t worry, sweetheart; you’ll get to go home, just not quite yet.” “Leave her alone,” I said. Isaac sneered. “Or what?” “Or nothing. Just get off of her.” He rolled his eyes like he couldn’t believe that I would actually be saying that to him and yanked the girl’s shirt up even higher. She shrieked. “What the fuck are you doing?” I said, yanking him back. “Fuck off,” he said. “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.” He started to turn back but let his gaze linger on me first. “Nice shirt, pussy.” He reached for the girl again, who was cowering against the truck, her face shrouded in the darkness. “I don’t fucking think so, asshole,” I said, and I grabbed him and threw him back. He stumbled a few steps but didn’t fall; when he regained his balance, he ran at me swinging, one fist connecting with my side but I barely even felt it. My own fists were clenched, and every time I swung, I felt my knuckles make contact with his soft flesh. Even where I hit bone, it felt soft, and it seemed it took only seconds for us to go from standing to him flat on his back, me above him, pummeling his face. At first, he tried to get his arms up to hit me, then to just block me, but I couldn’t stop. Who the fuck did he think he was, trying to ruin some girl’s night by doing something she didn’t want him to do? But it wasn’t just for that reason I kept hitting him; all the stress and guilt and anxiety I’d been feeling ever since my mother told me she had cancer, the unfairness of it, that just when she’d finally been freed from my father and was starting to actually enjoy life that she’d find out she was dying… It wasn’t fair.

I kept hitting him because of all of that, and because it also felt good to have a release for the stress, for the anger, for all of that, and by the time I stopped, my arms ached, the girl was gone, and I was alone in the parking lot. I didn’t have to look at Isaac’s bloodied, pulpy face to know that he was dead—that my own two fists had just beaten the very life out of him.

PART ONE Seven Years later

Chapter One Wren It was just like out of a movie. The couch, me reclining on it, facing away from Dr. Michael Carter, who sat in a brown leather wingback chair, one leg crossed over the other, yellow legal pad in his lap, pen scribbling away. Mike, he’d told me to call him during our first visit if that made me feel more comfortable. Nothing was making me feel comfortable lately, which was why I was here in the first place. I’d been dealing with it pretty well, or so I’d thought, but that had now changed. I’d made the first appointment with Dr. Mike—almost a year ago now—under the guise of wanting to get a control of my “serial dating.” I’d gotten into the bad habit of sleeping with guys and never returning their calls, even the ones that I actually did find myself liking. I’d become a “real bitch” as one of the guys had so kindly phrased it after we’d slept together and I then refused to see him again. Worse, I was starting to get a reputation around town, which, as a small business owner, I did not want, but I didn’t seem to know how to stop it. Talking with Dr. Mike was helpful, sort of. I didn’t feel as though I was any closer to

actually untangling the knot that was my problems, but just speaking out loud about them really did seem to help. “So, these dreams,” Dr. Mike was saying. “You’ve been having recurring nightmares.” I stared at a speck on the ceiling. “Yes. But that’s not that strange; I’ve been having those dreams for the past seven years now. I’m used to them.” “What’s changed, then?” The speck moved; it was actually a fly. “Because I found out that person is getting released from prison.” “And how did you find this out?” I hesitated. There was always this awkward moment when I had to admit what I’d been doing all these years. “I called the prison he’s at. I’ve been… I looked him up online. He had a MySpace profile that I found, and he’d started a Facebook one, but then…but then the incident happened and…” I let my voice trail off. I was stalking him online, although it’s difficult to stalk someone in this way when they’re in prison and can’t actually access the internet. I’d learned his name from the newspaper article, which I could recite verbatim: Carmel resident, Isaac Wentworth, 20, was killed last night in an altercation in the parking lot of the Watering Hole. Oliver “Ollie” Boardman, 18, also a resident of Carmel, has been detained, charges pending. An unidentified female was also at the scene, but she left before police arrived. Authorities would like to speak with her, so anyone with information regarding her whereabouts

or who she is, is asked to come forward. No one knew me was the thing. I had seen the article, so yes, I could’ve come forward; I could have driven myself down to the Carmel police station and answered whatever questions they had. But I didn’t. Instead, I stared at that article, reread it so many times that I eventually had it memorized. I didn’t come forward when Oliver plead guilty to voluntary manslaughter, and, because they’d avoided a trial, the district attorney offered him ten to twelve years. And now he was getting out after seven. I told myself that my coming forward wouldn’t have changed anything. It would not give Isaac his life back; it would not make Oliver’s statement any more or less true. “The incident,” Dr. Mike said. “We haven’t really touched upon that much in your sessions. Do you feel ready to talk about it?” Dr. Mike knew the broad details: something had happened about seven years ago, something that had made me mistrustful of pretty much every guy I’d ever been around, and that someone had ended up in prison because of it. I’d been purposefully vague with him, and he’d been completely accepting of my vagueness. There was no way I would’ve been able to stand something like that—I would need to know, right then, the specifics of whatever the hell it was the person was talking about. Not Dr. Mike, though. He’d probed a little, trying to extract more information, but when I wasn’t forthcoming with it, he let it drop, maybe knowing that this day would eventually arrive. Did I feel ready to talk about it? “I think I do,” I said. “Good. Tell me what happened.” “Well…” It had been seven years ago, yet I could remember it as though it had just

happened. I could still feel his weight pressing against me, the terrible helplessness when you realize you are overpowered. “The thing is…nothing happened to me. Because Oliver showed up. If he hadn’t though, I don’t know what would have happened. That is something I think about. A lot.” And that was stupid; I knew it. What was the point in wasting all this energy playing out bad scenarios that could have—but didn’t—happen? People did it all the time, but no good was coming from me thinking about the fact that Isaac Wentworth could have raped me, or beaten me, or killed me if Oliver hadn’t been there. “Something did happen to you, though,” Dr. Mike said. “I just feel so stupid. I still feel so stupid for being so naïve. It was my first weekend in Carmel. I’d gone out to that bar alone, and when Isaac and his group of friends asked if I wanted to sit with them, I actually felt happy because I thought that the locals were including me, that I must’ve looked like I belonged.” The shame still burned red hot when I thought back to how pleased I’d been at the invitation to sit with them. I was so proud of myself! Moving to this town all by myself, going out to a bar alone, getting invited to sit with some guys at their table. How could I not have seen how foolish I was being? “It’s a very natural response to want to be accepted, especially when you’re in a new environment.” I could hear Dr. Mike scribbling something on his yellow legal pad. I wondered what he was writing. Clearly beyond help. The whole thing was obviously her fault. She deserved it. “And Isaac asked if I wanted to go smoke a cigarette. I don’t even smoke, but I said yes. I thought he was cute. So, we went out to the parking lot, and he said he’d left his lighter in his truck, so we walked over there, but he didn’t even bother with the lighter. He just sort of cornered me against his truck and tried to kiss me.” I paused again, not wanting to continue because to admit that a small part of me had, for a split second, felt thrilled

that someone was this interested in me, to admit that would be to suggest that I had invited the whole thing to happen. That I had somehow been sending some sort of subconscious signal that he’d picked up on. Which I knew was bullshit, but at the same time couldn’t help believing, too. “How did that make you feel?” Dr. Mike asked after a few long moments had passed and I hadn’t said anything. “I felt…” There was no point in lying or withholding the truth. I was paying him to listen to this, after all; he wasn’t someone I was trying to impress. There would be no hope of the nightmares ever letting up if I wasn’t honest about it all. “I felt surprised. I couldn’t believe it, and yes, there was a part of me that was excited because he was kissing me. I might have kissed him back. I can’t remember. But then…but then, he started trying to take things further, and I told him to stop.” I had laughed as I said it; the idea that he wouldn’t still not occurring to me yet. That was the sort of thing that happened in movies, or to girls who dressed in short skirts and tight shirts and had too much to drink. It wasn’t supposed to happen to me, not during my first week in my new town, my first night out on my own. “He wouldn’t stop, though. It didn’t seem to matter how many times I said it; I felt like I said it dozens of times, but maybe it was only once or twice. I don’t know.” “Would it make a difference? How many times you said it?” “Wouldn’t it? If I only said it once or twice, maybe he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he didn’t think that I really meant it.” “It shouldn’t matter if you said it once or a hundred times. You shouldn’t need to say it one hundred times. The fact of the matter is: he was doing something to you that you didn’t want him to do.”

That was probably the most opinionated I’d heard Dr. Mike get about anything I’d said so far. He’d given me slippery non-answers in my previous sessions when I detailed the guys I’d been with, wondering aloud if my ability to just turn my emotions off was an ability that I’d always had or if it was a result of the night in the parking lot. It didn’t seem as though Dr. Mike was going to give me any of the answers I was looking for, despite the exorbitant amount of money I was paying him. It was as though he was expecting me to figure out those answers on my own, which didn’t seem like something I was going to be able to do any time soon. After my appointment, I went back to work. I usually scheduled my appointments with Dr. Mike during the lull between breakfast and lunch, so when I returned, the place was mostly empty, and my main waitress, Lena, was re-setting the tables with clean silverware and napkins. It still made me feel giddy sometimes to think that I owned this restaurant. I didn’t have much in the way of accomplishments to my name—no college degree and no husband or children to speak of—but after the previous café had been put up for sale, I used the inheritance money my grandma had left me and bought the place, shut it down for a few months while it was renovated, and re-opened it under a new name: Ollie’s. We did breakfast and lunch, wholesome, hearty food, not the slop you’d get at the diner right off the highway, but not the high-priced, tiny plate fare you’d get at some of the swankier establishments in town. I wanted the place to be welcoming, laid back, but also visually appealing. I’d been a little nervous about the whole thing at first because I didn’t have much restaurant experience aside from a few waitressing jobs, and I didn’t have a degree in business, but I was determined to make this work. I did not consider failure to be an option, even if no one wanted to come in to the restaurant and eat.

“Hey, Wren,” Lena said when she saw me. “Everything go okay at your appointment?” “Pretty good!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I told Lena I’d started seeing Dr. Mike, though I hadn’t specified why. I didn’t need to though; Lena was totally one of those women who was all about self-help, and she herself was “seeing” someone, though it was for the opposite reason of why I was going: Lena couldn’t seem to make any relationship work, or she was choosing the wrong guys, or some combination of the two. I went out back and put my purse in the office, said “hi” to Shaun and the other two cooks, then went back out to the dining room. I needed a coffee. There was a guy sitting at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee of his own, and working on a club sandwich. It was Ryan, one of the out-of-state employees who worked at one of the nearby guest ranches. Last season, he’d had a girlfriend, but one of the very first things he’d said to me when he set foot in the restaurant was that they’d broken up. I had acted nonchalant about this information, though I figured it would only be a matter of time before he and I hooked up. “Wren,” he said. “Was hoping I’d run into you.” “Had an appointment,” I said. “How’s the sandwich?” “Delicious as always. You got plans tonight?” “Yeah, I’ve got a bunch of things I need to take care of.” I didn’t have anything I needed to take care of, but I’d felt odd after I left Dr. Mike’s, and I knew when I was feeling like this, it was better to spend the night alone. “How about this weekend? You ought to come on over to the ranch. There’s going to be a barbecue and a little party of sorts to kick off the start of the season. Saturday night.” I nodded as I poured a giant cup of coffee in my special mug that said This is whiskey

on the side in pretty pink script. It was a joke because I’d never had whiskey in this mug before, or any mug, for that matter; I got tipsy off of a few beers, so I definitely couldn’t handle something like whiskey. “I might be able to make that,” I said. I did love a good barbecue. “That’d be mighty nice,” Ryan said, giving me a look that plenty of guys had given me before. I used to feel dangerously thrilled, but now it didn’t really do anything. It wasn’t exciting; it wasn’t even that much fun. It was just another way to spend an evening.

Chapter Two Ollie There was no reason to expect anyone would be there to pick me up the day I got released from the Reynolds Correctional Facility. Upon leaving, I’d been given the few belongings I’d gone in with, plus bus fare back to wherever the hell it was I wanted to go. I figured I might just get on the bus and go until I got kicked off, which might be all the way across the country—or just across town, depending on what bus I happened to get on. But when I stepped outside, the hot sun beating down on me, and the sky such a bright blue it hurt my eyes, there was that matte black Ford F150 that I’d recognize just about anywhere. Garrett Wilson was in the driver’s seat, and he lifted his hand from the steering wheel to give a little wave as I walked over. “There you are,” he said. I tentatively got into the passenger side. “You look surprised to see me.” “They gave us bus fare.” “Did they now?” Garrett had his beige Stetson on, the same one he always wore, his face deeply tanned and leathery from spending most of his life outside in all sorts of weather. “And where were you going to take a bus to?” I paused. “I don’t know.” “Might as well close that door then, so we can be on our way.” I pulled the door shut, and Garrett put the truck in drive. Reynolds suddenly became nothing more than a

building, getting smaller and smaller in the side view mirror. “Where are we going?” I asked, after a few minutes of silence had passed. It felt strange to be in a vehicle again, to see the landscape rush by in a blur of greens and browns. “Back to the ranch,” Garrett replied, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. “I can take you somewhere else, if you’d like.” It was a nice offer, but he knew I had nowhere else to go. “In fact,” he continued, “I’d like to give you your old job back. Season’s about to start again, and these past years have been busier than ever.” “What?” I said, certain I’d heard him wrong. He wanted me to work on the ranch again? “You heard me,” he said. “You’re one of the best wranglers I’ve ever worked with, and I wasn’t just saying that to make you feel good about yourself. We’ve got seven employees already at the ranch or coming in the next couple weeks, but half of them are working in the kitchen. So, I need one more wrangler. Figured you’d be needing a job.” “You figured that right,” I said. “I do need work.” “Sounds like a win-win situation for everybody, then.” That was one of the things we’d gone over in the pre-release and re-entry program I’d had to go through before getting out: finding employment and how important that was to integrating successfully back into society. Those of us who had work were less likely to be repeat offenders and find ourselves back behind bars. At the time, I just sat there, trying to think of where I was going to work, figuring I’d have to travel to get to some remote ranch where no one had ever heard of me before. But now here Garrett was, offering me my old job back. “Why are you doing this?” I asked him. “Don’t take this the wrong way or nothin’,

but I just don’t understand. Don’t really deserve it, if you want the truth.” Garrett shook his head. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. How long have you worked on my ranch? Since you were about eleven years old, I’d say. Got to know you pretty good in that time. Good enough that I know you’re not a bad kid. I think of you as a son, if you want the truth of it. But I know what can happen to a man if he gets released from prison and doesn’t have any prospects. Nine times outta ten, he finds himself back behind bars in real short order. Don’t want to see that happen to you.” He eyed me, taking in the tattoos that now covered my arms. “That’s quite a bit of artwork you’ve got there.” I looked down at my arms, feeling a pang of regret. At the time, I hadn’t thought about what people on the outside would think of them when I was finally released, because getting out seemed like such a far ways away. When a day feels like an entire year, the possibility of getting out in ten seems like an eternity. “It was dumb of me to do,” I said. “It was just a way to pass the time.” The guy who’d done them, Mark, had been an art student who had gotten drunk one night and drove his truck through a red light, causing a three-car pile-up and killing four people. The tattoos he’d given me were good enough to pass for something done at an actual parlor, of things that I liked: a roping horse, boots, a skull wearing a Stetson. I’d gotten the tattoos without thinking of the future, without considering the implications they might have for potential employment. “A permanent way to pass the time,” Garrett mused. “Well, I guess that’s what they make long sleeves for.” “You really want to give me my old job back?” I asked. “I sure do.” Wilson Ranch was a working ranch, a place for people to vacation at while at the

same time participating in the day-to-day activities of running a cattle ranch. Which meant, unlike some of the other ranches in the area, this place had paying guests. Paying guests that most likely wouldn’t want to be around a man who had been convicted of voluntary manslaughter. “I don’t really see how that could be good for business,” I said. “Don’t worry—we’re not going to put a big announcement on the website,” Garrett said with a wry smile. “Seven years is a long time, Ollie. People forget. People forget after seven minutes. Nobody needs to know about your past unless you decide to tell them.” I felt an ache in my throat and knew if I didn’t watch it, I was going to cry, which was about the last thing I’d want to do in front of Garrett, or anybody for that matter. You certainly didn’t cry in prison. “Well I appreciate it,” I said after a minute. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to show up here today, to be honest.” “You’re not alone, you know,” Garrett said. “It might feel that way, but you aren’t.” He paused. “I can take you to see your mother’s grave, if you’d like.” “That’d be nice.” I stared out the window. My mother had died five months after I’d been sent to Reynolds. She’d come out to see me, but I didn’t go out to the visitation area. At the time, I’d been stalwart in my belief that her last memory of me shouldn’t be in an orange jumpsuit. Our last interaction shouldn’t be in a visitation room. It was all I could think about, at least until she was gone, and I realized how much of an effort it must’ve been for her to get out there, and how I could have at least given her one last hug and told her I loved her and how sorry I was. How all of that superseded her seeing me in prison, but I’d been too selfish to realize it until it was too late. We didn’t talk much the rest of the ride, though I knew Garrett would listen if there was anything I felt like I had to say. It was just so weird to be out, to be a civilian again, to

know that I wasn’t going to wake up in cell fifty-six. Everything looked so familiar, yet so different at the same time. I saw the sign for Wilson Ranch come into view. “You just gotta keep your head down and your nose clean,” Garrett said as he turned down the long, hard-packed dirt driveway that led to the ranch. He drove up to his house, though, the original log cabin that had been built in the 1890s. “You’re going to be fine, Ollie. Why don’t you stay here up here at the main house for tonight at least, and then tomorrow if you want, you can move out to one of the employee cabins. C is open. Saved that one for you.” “Thanks.” “Like I said, some of our employees have arrived already; the rest will be trickling in over the next week or so. They’ve all worked at least one season here before; no one’s totally green. If it feels more comfortable for you to keep to yourself at first, that’s fine. You don’t have to do anything with the guests unless you feel ready for it; Ryan and Jerry will be responsible for the leading the rides and teaching lessons, so you don’t need to worry about it.” “Sounds good.” Before I’d gone to prison, I’d been the head wrangler, even though I was young, and one of the ride leaders, taking guests out on the cattle drive, helping them figure out how to ride if they’d never been on a horse before, and giving them pointers and demonstrations on how to get the cattle from one place to another. But now, just the thought of having to face a group of people I didn’t know seemed overwhelming, an insurmountable challenge. Ryan and Jerry, whoever they were, would have to handle all that. “One more thing,” Garrett was saying. “Two, actually, though they both concern how you’re going to get around. The blue Ford truck’s still running, so you can use that if you

need to go to town. And for around the ranch, Bebop’s still raising hell and in need of a rider who’s not going to put up with his shenanigans.” I smiled. Bebop, the chestnut Quarter Horse I’d started riding when I was fifteen, was fifteen years old himself now, but from the sounds of it, age hadn’t slowed him down any. “I’ll be glad to see him again,” I said. “He’ll be glad to see you, too. So will Marie.” Marie was Garrett’s wife and had been one of my mom’s close friends. It had probably been Marie who’d driven my mother out to Reynolds that one time she came to visit me. I wondered if Garrett knew about that. He parked the truck, and we got out. Everything seemed brighter, though not necessarily in an inspiring way. I wished I had a pair of sunglasses. Some of the guys had talked about what they thought it would be like when they got out, how they’d revel in the freedom to do whatever the hell they wanted, where they wanted. A lot of the guys were like me, outdoorsmen who were not used to spending so much time inside. But now that I was actually out, everything felt like too much. There were too many choices. I could do anything right now, but I felt paralyzed faced with all the options. I reached out and rested my hand on the side of the truck to steady myself. Garrett came around the truck, looking down at something he was holding. “What on earth is that?” I asked. He had a rectangular device in his hand and was tapping away at the screen. “This?” He held it out to me. “This here thing is a smart phone. Not just a phone, but a computer doodad, too. Can do all sorts of things on it.” It was full-color, the picture as clear as a TV. Clearer, even. I handed it back. “That sure is different than I remember cell phones being.”

“This thing is a little computer you can carry in your pocket. Never thought I’d see the day. Well, never thought I’d see the day when I’d be able to operate something like this, but they do a good job making it simple for folks like myself.” “Isn’t that something.” Garrett slid the phone computer thing back into his pocket. “I expect Marie will be back later this afternoon. If you want to get yourself settled in, you can.” He pulled his wallet out and extracted some bills, which he handed to me. I tried to hand it back. “Garrett, I can’t take this, you’ve done enough already—” “This is an advance on your first paycheck,” he said. “This isn’t a handout. But you’ll be needing to get yourself some clothes. Marie looked around a bit to see if there was anything that Jacob or Keith had left behind, but really, you should start fresh in your own duds. You don’t need to be wearing their hand-me-downs.” He patted my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Ollie,” he said. “There’ll be a period of adjustment. Give yourself the time to get used to everything again.” I nodded, feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion filling my chest. When I’d woken up this morning, I hadn’t been sure what today was going to have in store for me, but it was certainly not this. I didn’t even dare dream about something like this. “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.” “Don’t mention it. And if you need anything else, just holler.” “Actually…” I paused. “There is one thing. Could I use the blue Ford?” “Of course. Come on, I’ll get you the key.” I followed him into the house. “There are a few things I need to take care of,” I said, even though Garrett hadn’t asked. “Maybe I’ll get a few pairs of jeans while I’m out, too.” Garrett handed me a keychain with a single key on it. If he thought that I was going to

take the truck out and go find some sort of trouble to get into, he didn’t say a thing. But that’s the kind of guy Garrett was; he’d give you advice if you wanted it, but he wouldn’t try to keep you from doing anything. He’d let you make your own mistakes and hopefully learn from them. “You can just hang onto that key,” he said. “Go take care of whatever it is you need to do, and I’ll see you back here later.” “Okay,” I said. “Thank you.” I walked back outside, thinking about just what it was I needed to do. What I needed to do was something for Jackson because of the deal I’d made with him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, my first week at Reynolds, not knowing how long I’d be in that hell hole. But now that I was out, I wasn’t so sure. I had to keep my word, though. I had promised him. Jackson had made me memorize the address, after he told me what he’d wanted me to do. This was maybe five or six months before I got released, a day after his wife, Paula, had come to visit. I didn’t go down to the visitation room, of course; I’d never stepped foot in there. Jackson’s wife visited him regularly, but after that visit, he’d come to me with a request: When I got out, he wanted me to go look in on her. At first, I thought it was some sort of joke or a test of sorts. Jackson was in his midthirties and had taken me under his wing. I was the youngest guy at Reynolds, and I knew I’d have a target on my back. I knew the sorts of things that could happen to a guy in prison, or I thought I knew, but probably the reality of it was a whole lot worse than anything that I’d be able to imagine. I might have found out firsthand if it hadn’t been for Jackson, who later told me I reminded him a lot of his younger brother. “What… what do you want me to do?” I’d asked. “Check in on her. Take her out to dinner if she wants. A movie. You know how lonely

it can be. Paula’s sister used to live a few miles away, so she had someone to visit with, but she moved to Seattle a few months ago. She’s something of an introvert, my wife, but she still needs companionship, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.” It sounded like a recipe for disaster, if you asked me, but I wasn’t about to tell Jackson that. “And I trust you,” he said. “You’re about the only person I do trust, which is why I’m asking. I could just tell the last time I saw her that she’s struggling.” Which was how I found myself driving over to Jackson’s house to check in on his old lady. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to do once I got there, or if she’d even let me in. Their house was on the outskirts of town, you had to drive a ways past the state highway, past Twinturn Lake, the Rockies looming in the background. The house was onestory and cream-colored with blue shutters. The curtains were drawn on all the windows, the front door sealed shut. A maroon Toyota Camry was parked in the driveway, though it didn’t look like it hadn’t moved in some time. The front lawn was patchy and overgrown. The place looked abandoned. But I checked the number again and knew that this was Jackson’s place, so I got out of the truck and walked up to the front door. I rang the bell twice and knocked once. Maybe she went out for a walk, or maybe a friend had come and picked her up, and they’d gone shopping. Except I knew, from what Jackson had told me, that his wife wasn’t the sort to get picked up by a friend to go shopping. If she was, he probably wouldn’t have had me looking in on her in the first place. The door opened, slowly, only an inch or so. “Who is it?” “Paula, hi,” I said. “My name’s… my name’s Oliver Boardman, I know your—”

“I know who you are,” she said. The door opened a few more inches, enough so I could see what she looked like. She was tall and older than I’d thought; or maybe she just hadn’t aged well. She had an angular face and wide-set eyes, her hair was long and graying. “What are you doing here?” “Jackson… Jackson asked if I’d come check in on you. We knew each other…” I let my voice trail off, questioning whether or not this had really been a smart idea. How much better was it really going to make her feel to have some guy she didn’t even know showing up on her doorstep? “I just… Is there anything you need?” The faintest of smiles crossed her face, something closer to a smirk. She opened the door all the way. “Is that a trick question? Because there’s a whole lot of things I need, but I doubt you could help me with any of it.” “Well, ma’am, I’m supposed to try to.” “Enough with the ma’am. I know my husband told you to come check in on me. Well, here I am.” She eyed me like I had done something wrong. “What were you in for?” There was no point in lying; Jackson had probably told her anyway. “I killed someone.” “Someone you knew?” “No. Well, not really. We weren’t friends or anything. We’d gone to school together, but he was a few grades above me.” “And you killed him.” She looked at me closely then. “I think I remember reading something in the paper about you. It was a while ago. Killed a man with your own bare hands. Crime of passion, one of the articles said. That woman never came forward, either. The one you saved. Strange, isn’t it? You’d think she’d want to come forward and at least thank you.”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to be talking about this; I’d come over here to check in on her, not discuss the details about what had happened with me. “So, you’re doing okay then?” I asked. She cracked a smile. “You suddenly in a rush to get out of here?” “No, ma’am.” “Good. Because I’d like to go out, actually. Jackson might have told you that I have to be in the right sort of mood for visitors, and, as it happens, I’m in that mood right now. Let me get my purse.” She shut the door, leaving me standing there on the doorstep. Go out now? I hadn’t been planning on that; I figured I’d just look in on her, she’d tell me she was fine, and I’d be on my way. At the most, maybe she’d invite me in and I’d sit at the kitchen table, the same table that Jackson used to sit at and eat dinner, and she’d make tea and I’d listen to her talk about whatever it was she might need to talk about. But no—we were going out. She reappeared a moment later, slinging a small black leather pocketbook over her shoulder. “Ready,” she said. She wore a long blue skirt and a gray cardigan, and she looked sort of like a crazy librarian. We got into the truck, and she told me to drive back toward town. “So, how’s it feel?” she asked. “Being a free man.” “Going all right so far.” “I keep imaging the day when Jackson’s a free man, just like you.” I kept my eyes on the road and didn’t say anything. The chances of Jackson ever getting out were zero and zilch. He’d gone to Denver one night, and when he’d come back to his truck, he found two teenagers trying to break into it. He beat the shit out of them both and

then got his antique Winchester out of the truck and shot them as they tried to run away. According to Jackson, it later came out that the kids were on meth, but that didn’t matter. He’d shot and killed two kids who’d been trying to escape. “Did you have somewhere in mind that you wanted to go?” I asked Paula as we approached town. “I did.” I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “Care to share the plan with me?” I finally said. She was looking out the window as though she hadn’t heard me, humming something under her breath. Was she a little crazy? Was this why Jackson had asked me to check up on her? “There,” she said suddenly, pointing. “I want to go there. The food’s great, and the coffee’s even better. And hey—it’s got the same name as you.” The restaurant she had pointed at was called Ollie’s, which must’ve opened up while I’d been in prison. The last I knew, it had been the Red Hen Café, which had okay food and mediocre coffee. “This woman opened the place almost five years ago,” Paula said. “I don’t go out too much, but when I do, I like to come here and get the chicken pot pie.” “That sounds good.” “You should order it.” I wasn’t the least bit hungry. “Maybe I will.” We went inside. I’d only been in the place once or twice when it was the Red Hen, so I only had a vague recollection of it, but the place now seemed completely transformed. The sunlight poured in, and the white walls gleamed. The memories I did have of the Red

Hen were of a dark, shabby sort of place, so this was quite a contrast. The bar had been reconstructed, the chipped Formica replaced with gleaming hardwood. The counter stools were also wooden, and the tables and booths had been redone to match. The place felt both quaint and chic, and I was immediately overcome with the feeling of not belonging. But Paula marched right in, waved to one of the waitresses, and sat herself down at a corner table. I followed and sat across from her. Luckily, there weren’t many people there. “Try the coffee,” Paula said. “Everything here’s good, but the coffee’s excellent.” She peered at the menu. The waitress came over, carrying a coffee pot. She was slightly overweight, had washed out blond hair, and was wearing a shade of lipstick that was a little too bright. “Hi there,” she said with a big smile. “Nice to see you again, Paula. It’s been a while. Nice to see you…” She paused, looking at me. “I don’t think I know you.” “I’m Oliver,” I said. “Pleased to meet you, Oliver. I’m Lena; I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you guys some coffee?” “That’s what we’re here for,” Paula said. Lena’s smile never wavered as she poured us each coffee and then said she’d give us a few minutes with the menu. Paula took a big sip of the coffee, made some strange moaning sound that I guess was supposed to indicate how good it tasted, and then looked up, over my shoulder, scanning the dining room. “The owner’s not here right now,” she said. “This girl named Wren. She’s a looker, but you don’t want to get involved with her.” I drank my coffee. “Okay,” I said, as though getting involved with someone was even an option. It wasn’t, as far as I was concerned. Not now, anyway. Not for a long time. I

couldn’t even begin to start to think of being that settled into my life that I might actually have a girlfriend. “No, I mean it.” Paula leaned across the table toward me. “I know you grew up around here, but you’ve been gone for so long it’s like you’re new in town again. And I might not go out a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m not privy to the sorts of gossip that goes around.” “I’m not that interested in gossip.” “Most men aren’t. Not much of a surprise there. She’s a nice girl and all, Wren, but she gets around, if you know what I mean.” I shrugged. “It’s really not any of my business.” “I’m just letting you know.” I kept expecting to wake up and find myself back at Reynolds, that this whole experience of being released from prison today had just been a dream. I’d open my eyes and be lying there on that cot, staring up at the concrete ceiling I’d become so familiar with over the years. Today would in fact be the day I’d be getting out, but instead of Garrett being there to pick me up, I’d take the bus somewhere. I’d be an anonymous face; I’d probably have to sleep under a bridge somewhere. But that didn’t happen because this, it seemed, was actually reality. I was sitting here with Jackson’s wife, at a restaurant that had the same name as me, owned by a woman who apparently got around. “I need to be getting back,” I said. Paula leaned across the table again and peered into my cup of coffee. “You’re not done yet.” I picked up the cup and swallowed the remainder, and it was still hot enough that is

scorched my mouth and my throat on the way down. “There,” I said. “All finished.” For a second, I thought she was going to refuse; I thought she was going to insist that we stay there and order food, more coffee, talk to everyone who walked into the place. If she did, I’d have to leave her there. Except no, I couldn’t do that, not to Jackson’s wife. Luckily, though, she decided not to do that. Maybe she could see that I was on the verge of losing my shit if we didn’t get out of there, maybe she herself was just ready to go, I didn’t know, but she pulled her wallet out of her pocketbook, left a few bills on the table, and then we left. “I’m sorry,” I said once we were outside. “I wasn’t trying to rush you or anything, but I just needed to get outside. Maybe I should’ve waited a day or two before coming to see you.” That probably would have been the smarter idea. “But I promised Jackson I would.” After I left Paula’s, I drove back to town, trying to find a store to get some clothes. It seemed like most of the stores had changed, or moved, in the past seven years. New shops, new restaurants. I didn’t even recognize the name of the bank. The coffee made me feel jittery, but I parked and wandered into a few stores. I bought a toothbrush and toothpaste at the drug store, and then I went into a clothing store that had the jeans I was looking for. I got a couple pairs, as well as a few work shirts. I needed a new pair of boots. I didn’t have enough money for Luccheses, which was what I used to wear, but the Ariat boots were on sale, and I found a pair in my size. What had happened to those boots? I hadn’t worn them when I went out that night; I’d left them by the front door at my mother’s, where I was always left them so I didn’t track dirt and mud all through the house. Those boots had fit like a glove; this new pair would be far inferior, but it was the best I could do, considering I was buying them with money I hadn’t yet earned.

Chapter Three Wren No way to escape. I’m trapped. It’s that guy, I know it’s him even though I can’t see his face, and he’s got me pinned against the wall. We’re not outside in a parking lot, though, we’re in some sort of container, with slick walls and a slippery floor, and I’m trying to keep my balance, but I can’t. The feeling that I’m about to fall is constant, but the falling part never comes. There is a pervading sense of sickening dread and nothing I can do to escape it. There’s no one coming to save me this time, and I can’t even seem to move my arms or legs. My brain is screaming at my limbs to move, but they won’t so all I can do is stand there and wait for him to— My eyes flew open, heart in my throat, pulse racing. The sheets were a tangled, sweaty mess. The dull gray light seeping in through the closed blinds told me it was early morning, but late enough that I could get up. There was no going back to sleep after those sorts of dreams, anyway. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, though Dr. Mike said it didn’t matter how many times you had a recurring nightmare; it could feel just as scary as the first time you had it. Awake, though, I could steel myself to the outside world. This didn’t mean closing myself off or being rude for no reason; it meant slipping on that irreverent, slightly sarcastic personality that I felt somehow protected me, that kept anyone from getting too

close. At the same time, guys seemed to find it appealing, so there was never any shortage of dates, though I refused to ever let them go past the first one, no matter how good that first date had gone. And if I wanted to, it’d be easy enough to be completely swallowed up by work, to not have time for anything else. I didn’t need to be there first thing in the morning; my line chef, Shaun, was fully capable of opening the place every morning, without requiring my presence, but I liked being there. I’d whip up a few batches of muffins, and they’d be hot and fresh right out of the oven just as the first customers started coming in. It wasn’t like going back to sleep was an option anyway. Even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t—it was better to be tired than to have another one of those nightmares. The tiredness was taking its toll, though. I knew it when Lena gave me a concerned look after the breakfast rush was over. I was wiping down the counter, but she came over and took the rag from me. “You go sit down for a minute,” she said. “What? Why? I’m fine.” “You look exhausted. You look like you’re not even going to be able to make it through lunch. Sit. Let me do this.” Normally, I would’ve insisted that everything was fine and I didn’t need to sit, but I gave in this time. I left the rag and sat on the other side of the counter. “You’ve been having those nightmares again, haven’t you,” Lena said. She reached over and poured me a big cup of coffee. I nodded, even though they’d never actually stopped—they’d been happening all along, I just decided to stop telling her about them. “Maybe you need to get away from this place,” she said. “Not that I want to see you

go, but if something like that ever happened to me, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to stick around in the same town afterward.” “The thought has crossed my mind,” I admitted, though I’d long ago made the decision to stay. I loved Carmel. I’d loved this town ever since middle school, when we’d taken a field trip and stopped at a little café for lunch. The state highway ran right through Carmel, and there were the usual fast food restaurants and chain stores. But as you moved further away from the highway, things took on a much quainter feel, and by the time you reached downtown proper, it was like you had taken a step back in time, with the white clapboard general store, the one-room post office, the gold-gilded movie theater with its faded marquee. I’d wanted to live here ever since then. Perhaps not the grandest of ambitions, but it was what I’d always wanted. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” I told Lena. “It’s not like I’d go back home. I shouldn’t even call it that, really.” She gave me a puzzled look. “I thought you said you got along pretty well with your folks.” “I do. But that doesn’t mean I want to go back there. There’s a reason you’ve never met my parents, you know.” “I have wondered why they never visited.” “They’re afraid. They don’t leave the town if they don’t have to. Honestly, I don’t think they’ve left in over ten years.” Lena widened her eyes. “You’re exaggerating,” she said. I frowned, doing the math mentally in my head. “No, that’s pretty accurate, actually. They’re both just fearful people. They’ve always been that way, but it got even worse after this one time my mom and I went to Denver. I must’ve been … ten, I think. It was around

Christmas, and we were going to see the Nutcracker. It was a big deal, us going into the city. It took us a while to get there, and my mom didn’t like driving long distances. We were even going to spend the night in a hotel. I was so excited. We had to stop for gas just outside of Denver, and I asked my mom if I could go with her and pick out a snack when she went inside to pay for the gas. I was standing in the front of all the candy when this guy came in wearing a mask, holding a gun, shouting for the clerk to empty the register. There was one other person in there besides us and the clerk, and he made us all get down on the floor on our stomachs. People had tracked a bunch of snow and mud and slush in, and I remember how it felt soaking through the front of my dress. My mother was crying the whole time. The guy got the money from the cash register and left, the police came, and no one was hurt. But we turned around and headed right back home.” “Oh my god.” Lena’s hand went to her mouth. “Wren, I had no idea. That’s terrible.” “And that’s why I never told my parents what happened. They don’t even have a computer, so it’s not like they’d ever find out otherwise.” “But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t welcome you back home.” “I know. I know I’m always welcome back there, and that they’d be happy to have me. But I don’t want to live in fear like they do. And I like it here. No, more than like it—I love this place. This is like my home. I’m not going to let one bad experience chase me out. No way.” “Well, I am happy to hear that part, anyway,” Lena said. “I like having you around. I wouldn’t want you to go anywhere.” I didn’t want to go anywhere, either, yet I also hated that this thing had happened to me that I couldn’t seem to forget. I wanted to move past it, I wanted to be free of it, I wanted it to not affect me the way it did.

Chapter Four Ollie It was strange being back on the ranch. How many nights had I lain on my cot, dreaming of this place? It was a hard thing, to be the sort of person that was used to spending most of his time outside to suddenly find yourself allowed an hour a day in a fenced in area. I felt like an animal, but not one of the horses out on the ranch, not even one of the cattle that got herded to the forest pastures every summer; I felt trapped, like something waiting to be slaughtered. But it was hard to sleep. It was too quiet, everything too still. I was alone in this little cabin, when I’d become accustomed to sleeping in the presence of hundreds of guys. In prison, you never allow yourself the deep sort of slumber you did before you went in; now that I was out though, it didn’t seem like that was going to happen either. When I finally did manage to fall asleep, I dreamed I was back there at Reynolds, except the cell was open on all sides, there were no walls, just bars keeping me in. Everyone that I’d ever known was there, outside of the cell though, looking in at me. I had done something awful, I knew it, but I couldn’t recall just what it was. No one would speak to me, not my mother, not Garrett, not Jackson, who was also there, in civilian clothes, looking just as pissed off at me as everyone else was. Finally, someone broke the silence. My mother. “You’re an awful person,” she said, her face contorted in anger. There were murmurs from those around her, everyone nodding their heads in agreement.

“Awful!” someone shouted. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” “You don’t deserve to be out, walking amongst us!” Everyone started screaming then, and I couldn’t make out any one specific thing; it was just this horrible onslaught of noise that there was no escape from. There was nothing else in the cell with me, nothing to hide under or to shield myself with, so all I could do was stand there. I couldn’t turn to face the wall because there were no walls; I was surrounded by angry, seething faces, all people that I knew, that I loved, or at least liked. I woke up, but was unable to shake the feeling. I got dressed and went outside, where it was still dark, the sky to the east just beginning to lighten. The boots were rubbing my heel in a way that was going to leave a spectacular blister, I could tell right away, but I ignored it. They’d take some time to break in, and the pain would be good reminder that I was outside, working, not shut up in a prison. Garrett had told me to take a few days, but I needed to work. I needed to do something, and sleeping sure as hell wasn’t one of those things. I walked down to the barn, the familiarity of the routine immediately coming back to me. It was like muscle memory, really, something that I’d always remember no matter how much time passed. I went past the barn to the first corral, and I whistled, one short high note followed by one low longer one. I didn’t know if it would still work, if he’d hear it, and if he did hear it, if he’d remember, but sure enough, a few seconds after that whistle, I first felt the hoofbeats through the ground, then heard the muted thumps as he approached. “Hey, boy,” I said. Bebop came right over to me and pushed his head hard against me. He nickered, but didn’t push his nose into my hands looking for treats; he knew better than that. He raised his head and looked at me, and I swear, it was like he was glad to see me. It

felt good. In fact, it was the best I’d felt since I got out. I patted his neck and then clucked to him to follow me as I opened the gate and went back to the barn. I didn’t have to bother with the crossties; he stood while I went over his coat with the curry comb, followed by the stiff-bristled dandy brush, then the softer body brush. I brushed out his tail and then used the metal comb on his mane and forelock. I had just grabbed the hoofpick when I heard a voice behind me. “Whoa, what’s going on?” It was a male voice, not hostile, exactly, but it startled me, and I dropped the pick and jumped up. Bebop swished his tail and pinned his ears back, but he didn’t move. Prison imbues you with the fight or flight response, and I felt both urges rise in me simultaneously. I didn’t recognize the guy standing there in the weak morning light. He was probably around my age and dressed similarly to how I was: jeans, boots, work shirt. No doubt he was one of the wranglers that Garrett had hired, but I still couldn’t help but feel threatened. “Getting my horse ready,” I said. “That’s all.” The guy stepped forward. “Oh,” he said. “You must be Oliver. I’m Ryan.” He held out his hand, though the look on his face still remained suspicious. “Garrett said you wouldn’t be starting for a couple days. Wasn’t expecting to find anyone else in the barn at this hour; I’m usually the first one.” He looked at Bebop. “You’re riding that one?” “Yeah. He’s the one I rode before …” I stopped and looked down at my boots. I wasn’t sure how much Garrett had told him about me. “He’s the one I used to ride.” “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He turned and walked back out of the barn to the corral to get his own horse. I cleaned Bebop’s hooves, tacked him up real fast, led him out of the barn, and swung

myself up into the saddle. The sun had just cleared the eastern horizon. The air was brisk, and the sky was just starting to deepen in color from washed-out blue. The smell of horse, of well-worn leather, filled my nose. Bebop moved agilely underneath me, and a smile broke out on my face now that I was back in the saddle. I’d dreamed about this moment for a long time. Sometimes it’d felt like it was never going to happen again, but I’d held onto the hope that eventually the day would come and I’d be back outside, on a horse, free to go in whatever direction I chose. It might’ve been a while since I’d last worked the ranch, but I fell back into the routine of it like I never left. I rode Bebop out to the main pasture and wrangled the horses that guests would be using if they were going to ride that day. Ryan joined me as I was driving the horses back to the corral closest to the barn, and we worked together in silence. We groomed and grained the horses, and I set about refilling water troughs. After the rest of the chores were done, Ryan headed up to the main lodge for breakfast. “You coming along?” he asked. I wasn’t sure exactly how many guests were staying at the ranch right now, but all meals were served family style, and even though employees weren’t expected to eat with the guests, just the thought of having to face them right now seemed like more than I was ready to handle. “No,” I said. “Not that hungry at the moment.” He was already walking off before I finished my sentence. I could see the lodge from where I was standing in front of the barn; I could make out Garrett talking with two people I didn’t recognize. Guests, from the look of it. They turned as Ryan approached, and all four of them stood there chatting. I turned and walked toward my cabin. Inside, I got the keys to the Ford and then got in and drove off.

As I drove, I thought about my brother, Darren, who, as far as I knew, was still living in San Francisco. Or maybe not—he might’ve moved and I’d have no way of knowing. Had he gone to our mother’s funeral? Did he ever come out this way? We weren’t particularly close growing up, but he was the only family I had left. I drove into town and went to the drug store to get Band-Aids for my blisters, as well as some soap and shampoo, too. I was going to just drive back to the ranch, but I ended up going past that restaurant, Ollie’s, and decided I’d stop in. I’d been jumpy when I was there with Paula, but not so much that I couldn’t recognize a good cup of coffee when I tasted one. I stepped inside, the little bell on the door jingling as I did so. The place was more crowded than it had been when Paula and I were there; families were seated in the booths, kids with plates in front of them, piled high with pancakes and tired but content looking parents with their own big mugs of coffee. That must’ve been quite the life, I thought, taking a seat by myself at the bar. Being part of a big family like that. A woman came over right away with a pot of coffee and a smile on her face. “Hi there,” she said. “Coffee?” “Please.” She slid a white mug in front of me and poured the hot coffee. “You want to look at a menu?” She was quite attractive, with blue-green eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. I looked away. It had been a long time since I’d made eye contact with a woman like this. Paula didn’t count. “Just the coffee for now.” “Let me know if you change your mind.” “I will.” She turned to put the coffee back, her thick brown ponytail swaying as she moved.

I didn’t recognize her, or any of the other people in the restaurant. I sipped my coffee and tried to relax. A lot of the people, I noticed, had those same phones that Garrett had. I’d seen some people using them in the drug store, too. Periodically, they’d take them out and look at them, moving their finger across the screen. At one point, even the girl who’d poured my coffee took her phone out and looked at it, before slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans. She saw me looking and smiled, came back over with the pot of coffee. “Let me top you off,” she said. I watched as she poured, trying to think of something to say. It seemed like she was waiting for me to say something, and nothing was coming to mind. “Everybody have those smart phone things?” I asked finally, realizing too late how stupid a question like that made me sound. But if she thought it was odd, she didn’t let it show; instead, she nodded emphatically. “It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it? The way everyone’s glued to their phones these days.” She set the coffee pot back on the burner and then turned back to face me, leaning her forearms on the counter. “I’m guilty of it, too,” she said sheepishly. “Though I try not to do it at work. You’re probably one of the few people who comes in here and sits by themselves at the bar and isn’t staring at their screen the whole time.” It was my turn to look sheepish. “I don’t have one.” “Really?” “Really.” “That’s kind of awesome, actually. I fantasize about getting rid of the thing, sometimes, but I know I’ll never do it. It’s awful, isn’t it? Knowing that you’re pretty

much dependent on this thing that half the time you don’t even like, but not being able to get rid of it. I can’t even imagine my life without it, though I do realize how ridiculous that makes me sound.” She shrugged. “Most people feel that way, though—they just won’t admit it.” She winked, giving me a little smile with just one side of her mouth. It really did feel like she was flirting. “That’s good you can admit it,” I said lamely. “So, do you just have one of those flip phones? The old school ones? Those are so much more durable. I used to have one; you could drop that thing off the roof, and it wouldn’t break.” I almost said, “Yeah, that’s the kind of phone I have.” It was, actually, the kind of phone I used to have, but I didn’t know what happened to that, either. It probably got turned off because the bill wasn’t getting paid after my mother died. “I don’t have a phone,” I said. I didn’t want to lie. Even if it was to try to impress her, there was no point in lying, just as there was no point in trying to impress her, because it wasn’t going to go anywhere. She smiled with her whole mouth this time, and I noticed she had a tiny mole on the side of her face, near the corner of her mouth. “I almost don’t believe you, but that’s really refreshing to hear,” she said. “You’re about the only person in here who could make a claim like that.” She looked at me more closely, and I thought for sure she was going to ask why I didn’t have a phone, and if I was going to stick with my no lying policy, I’d have to tell her truth of it. “So, are you staying at Wilson Ranch?” I shook my head. “No, ma’am.” She burst out laughing. “No need for the ‘ma’ams’! Shit, that makes me feel old. I just assumed since I didn’t recognize you. I’m Wren.” She wiped her hands off on her apron and then held one out for me to shake, which I did, hoping my own palm didn’t feel

too sweaty. “Well, I’m not a guest there or anything,” I said. “But I guess I am staying there. I work there,” I said. “At the ranch.” “You do? I thought I knew everyone who worked for Garrett. What’s your name?” Her gaze was both tantalizing and unbearable. It had just been so long since I’d been around a woman, and I felt like I just didn’t know how to do it. Not that I was supposed to be doing anything right now anyway, other than answering her question. I forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look as unnatural as it felt. “Funny you should ask,” I said. She pursed her lips together in a little smile. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Her tone almost sounded flirtatious. Though maybe I was just imagining that. There was a menu at the spot next to me, so I slid it over and pointed to the front, where Ollie’s was written in black script. “That’s it right there,” I said. “Well, Oliver, but growing up around here, everyone called me Ollie.” “Isn’t that something,” she said. “Quite the coincidence—” Her smile froze suddenly, though, and she gave me the oddest look. Had that been a completely messed up way for me to introduce myself? Should I have just told her my name was Oliver, instead of trying to make it sound like this restaurant and I had some sort of connection? “Oliver Boardman,” I said quickly, wanting to say something to fill the silence, though those words tumbled out of my mouth before I could retract them. Why the hell did I tell her my last name? It wasn’t as though that was going to improve things. “Nice to meet you,” she said. Her eyes darted from my face then off to the side. She backed up a few steps. “I’ve got to go check on something in the kitchen, excuse me.”

She disappeared before I could say anything else. I sat there and stared into my coffee cup. I should’ve known; it had been going a little too well.

Chapter Five Wren How had I not recognized him? I stood there in the kitchen, taking deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart. I hadn’t recognized him. Oliver Boardman had walked into my restaurant, my restaurant that I had named after him, for fuck’s sake, and I hadn’t recognized him. I had, in fact, stood there talking with him for a good five minutes about phones, and I didn’t have a goddamn clue. Shaun looked over at me from the line. Pancakes sizzled on the griddle in front of him. “You okay?” “Fine!” I said, a little too brightly. Obviously, I was not fine. I couldn’t just stand there like this though; I hurried through the kitchen to my little office. I shut the door and tried to take a few more deep breaths. I hadn’t recognized him. That was more startling to me than the fact that he had walked in here to begin with. But he looked so much different than the pictures I’d seen of him online, and I’d barely even gotten a glimpse of his face that night in the parking lot with Isaac. No, the man sitting at the bar out there, nursing the cup of coffee, he wasn’t the energetic, fresh-faced boy in the online pictures I’d seen. He was older now, with a few days’ worth of scruff on his face, tattoos covering his arms, and a haunted look in his eyes. Finally, my heartbeat slowed enough that it wasn’t pounding my ears. I counted to ten

in my head and then turned and walked back through the kitchen. I shouldn’t have left so abruptly like that. I’d apologize. And then I’d thank him. I had always wanted to thank him for helping me the way he had. I at least owed him that much. But his seat was empty when I pushed through the swinging doors back into the dining area. There was his coffee mug, still half-full with coffee, and a rumpled five-dollar bill. A five-dollar bill for a dollar cup of coffee. I walked out from behind the bar and went over to the big plate glass window. Out in the parking lot, none of the cars or trucks were occupied; he was gone. I knew where he worked though. And I had a feeling that I’d see him again soon. It was hard to stay focused for the rest of the day. I couldn’t partake in the usual banter my customers had grown accustomed to, and more than a few of them asked me if I was doing all right. “I might be coming down with something,” I finally said, because I wasn’t going to tell the truth, and telling them everything was okay didn’t seem to fly. “Maybe you should go home,” Lena suggested. “It’s pretty slow this morning; we can handle it. You should get some rest.” She looked genuinely concerned, and I felt bad. Lena was the sort of person who made you wonder how it was possible that someone could be so nice, and I didn’t want to worry her with my fake ailment. If anyone were to understand about this whole situation, it’d be her, but I also knew she wasn’t very good at keeping secrets. “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I’ll go get you a container of chicken noodle soup to go,” she said. I took the hot soup and the two sourdough rolls she’d put in a brown paper sack. I

stood outside for a minute, looking down the street one way, then the other. He wouldn’t still be out here, I knew that, but I looked anyway. A quarter of a mile down the road to my left was the Watering Hole. I wondered if he thought about that night when he had to drive by. I went home, debating whether or not I should call Dr. Mike for an emergency appointment, even though it wasn’t an emergency, per se. I decided not to, though, because I saw that Allison’s car was in her driveway. I took my soup and went over there. “Knock knock,” I said as I walked through the front door. “I come bearing soup.” Allison was my neighbor, and because of this, had inadvertently become a close friend. We didn’t even bother to ring the doorbell or knock when we went to each other’s homes. She was a few years older than I was, and she was married and had two children. The fact of this seemed to startle her, as though some days she woke up surprised to find that she had all these responsibilities. But her husband, Nigel, was handsome and clearly loved her, and her children, though they were certainly energetic, were sweet and usually well-behaved. At least it seemed that way to me. And so, Allison and I forged a friendship based at least in part on a mutual desire for the other’s life. I’d be thirty in two years and hadn’t been on so much as a second date; Allison, at times, wished she was in her twenties again and single. “In the living room,” she called out as I stepped into the foyer. “And how’d you know I was starving?” I made my way into the living room, where Allison was sitting on the couch, her laptop open in her lap. She closed it and put it on the cushion next to her. “I didn’t bring a spoon,” I said. “Oh! But I do have rolls.” “I don’t need a spoon.” She popped the lid off the container and took a big gulp, as though she hadn’t eaten in days. “I’m about go out of my fucking mind,” she said. “This

end-of-the-year PTO shit is madness. I don’t know why I sign up for this.” “Because you’re a good mommy,” I said. “And because you want to take an active interest in your children’s education.” She rolled her eyes. “Are you quoting directly from the PTO website? Because I wrote that, you know.” “I know you did. It’s quite good.” She took another big sip. “This soup is so good.” “You want the rolls?” I pulled the bag out of my purse. “Here you go.” “Thanks.” She opened the bag and pulled one out. “Wait a sec—what are you doing home right now? Is everything okay with you? You’re looking a little stressed. Or tired, maybe.” “Which everyone knows is just a kind way of saying I look like shit.” “For some people, yes. For you, it’d take more than a couple sleepless nights to look like crap. I mean, I have permanent bags under my eyes. But never mind that. What’s going on? Why aren’t you sleeping?” “I never said I wasn’t sleeping.” “Well, if you’re overtired because you’re up all night having great sex, then I don’t feel bad for you in the least.” “It’s not that. I’ve been sleeping, but not that great.” The appeal of a good night’s sleep was certainly mitigated when there was also the prospect of having those godawful nightmares. “Why? What’s up?” “Someone came into the restaurant today,” I said.

“I take it this was a ‘someone’ you weren’t expecting to see?” “Well, not exactly.” I hadn’t told Allison anything about my past, or at least not about that situation. “Do you know Oliver Boardman?” She frowned. “The name sort of rings a bell… Oh, yeah, he was the kid who killed some guy in the parking lot at the Watering Hole. Right?” I nodded. “He worked at Wilson Ranch. Nigel and Jacob Wilson used to be pretty good friends.” “Well, he got out of prison.” “You know him?” “Yeah.” Now was the time for me to tell Allison how I knew him, but the words were suddenly stuck in my throat. “I’m going to go get a drink of water,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I went out to the kitchen and got a glass and filled it from the tap. Children’s artwork was affixed to the refrigerator. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have a husband and children to take care of. I knew Allison felt like it was a rut, like she was drowning in the responsibility of it all, but there was definitely a certain appeal. I went back out to the living room. “How do you know him?” Allison asked as I sat back down. “Wasn’t he in prison before you moved here? It was like seven or eight years ago, I think.” “Seven,” I said. I swallowed. My palms felt sweaty, and a wave of nervousness wafted through me. It was like I was standing on a stage or something, about to give a speech in front of a huge crowd. Dr. Mike was the only one I’d ever told this to before, and he had a professional obligation to keep whatever I told him to himself. “It was actually right around the time I moved here.” I took another gulp of water and looked at

Allison. “I’m going to tell you something, but I need you to promise me that you’re not going to tell anyone else, okay? Not even Nigel.” She leaned forward. “I assure you, I am not one of those women who are incapable of keeping a secret from their husband. I promise I won’t say a word.” “I’m the reason that he went to prison. He basically saved me that night. He came across me and that guy in the parking lot.” Allison’s eyes widened. “So, you’re the unidentified woman! I remember all that now. Everyone was wondering who she was, and then we figured she must’ve been someone who was out here on vacation or something. But it was you? Holy shit. Wow.” “But you can’t tell anyone.” “And Ollie doesn’t know?” I shook my head. “He doesn’t know. And—” “Wait a second—that’s why your restaurant is called Ollie’s? You named it after him?” “Yeah, I did. I know it sounds totally weird.” “No, it’s actually kind of sweet. Except that he doesn’t know about it. Wow, Wren, I had no idea.” “Cooking was the only thing that could keep my mind off of everything that had happened,” I said, thinking back to the first few years I’d been in Carmel. I’d had various jobs, but I’d spend all my free time cooking. There was something soothing about being in the kitchen, stirring, mixing, measuring. Sometimes I’d follow a recipe, sometimes I’d make it up. I wasn’t doing it for anyone else except for me, but word got out that the stuff I made was good. I’d donate cookies or muffins to the bake sale, or bring stews and soups to neighbors in the winter. And when I got the call from my mother that my grandmother

had died and she’d left me a small inheritance, I knew I wanted to put the money into opening my own restaurant. And I knew exactly what I wanted to call it. “Well that’s just crazy,” Allison said. “I mean, wow. How’d it go?” “It went fine until I realized who it was, and then I kind of freaked out and ran into the kitchen, and by the time I came back, he was gone.” “This isn’t that big of a town. I’m sure you’ll see him again.” “He’s working at Wilson Ranch.” “Then you’ll definitely see him again. This is kind of like something out of a movie!” Allison had an excited look on her face, one I was used to seeing when I’d tell her about the latest guy I’d gone out with. “I want to come down there the next time he’s there.” “Will you stop it? He’s not some sideshow freak or something that you can just come down and gawk at.” “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just… I’m just curious, is all. My life is so fucking boring and predictable. I need some excitement!” I didn’t lead the most exciting life by any stretch of the imagination, but I had the feeling that since Ollie had come around, things were about to get a lot more interesting, though whether that was going to be in a good way or not, I still wasn’t sure. I decided that I did need a professional opinion. I’d gone home after talking with Allison and tried to distract myself with cleaning, then with trying out a new recipe, and finally with taking a nap, but when all of those things failed miserably, I called Dr. Mike. “I’m not trying to be dramatic,” I said, “but I need to see you. There’s some things I need to talk about, and I don’t think I can wait until my next appointment.”

“Are you having suicidal ideations?” “Huh?” “Do you want to hurt yourself?” “No.” “Do you feel like you you’re going to hurt someone else?” “Hurt someone? No! Why—” “Then you could actually wait until our next appointment.” I paused. “Well, yes, you’re right, I mean, I’m not going to spontaneously combust or something if I have to wait, but…” “As it so happens, I did have a client cancel. I was going to leave early, but if you’d like to take that slot, you can. It was for four o’clock.” “I’ll be there at four,” I said. “I’ll be there five minutes early, in fact.” “Four is fine. I’ll see you then.” I felt a sort of calm descend upon me once I was lying on that couch. Neither of us had even said anything yet, aside from the usual formalities of hello. “So,” Dr. Mike said. “Tell me why you had to come in today.” “He came into the restaurant,” I said. “He came into my restaurant, that I had named after him, and I didn’t recognize him.” “Do you think you should have recognized him?” he asked. “Of course I should have! I mean, shouldn’t I have?” “Seven years is a long time.” Dr. Mike had an infuriating way of never actually

answering my questions, with say, a validating response. I wanted to hear him say, Yes, you absolutely should have recognized him! Or No, there’s no way you could be expected to recognize him. But he wouldn’t give me anything like that. He wanted me to come up with the answer on my own. “He didn’t recognize me, either.” “Is that what you were hoping for? For one of you to recognize the other?” “I don’t know.” I stared at the ceiling. There were no flecks to affix my gaze to this time. I really didn’t know what I’d been expecting. Would I feel better if he’d recognized me? If I had recognized him? It was quite possible I’d feel worse. What if he hated me? What if he blamed me for the fact that he’d just spent the past seven years of his life in prison? If I hadn’t gone out that night, if I hadn’t been foolish enough to sit with those guys and then go out with one of them by myself into the parking lot, then Oliver Boardman would not have spent any time in prison. “This whole thing is my fault.” Dr. Mike sighed. We’d been through this before—me being to blame for the whole thing. “I thought we’d moved past this,” he said. “The victim is never to blame.” “But I realized when I saw him that I’m not the only victim. And am I even a victim? Because nothing bad actually happened to me. He’s the victim. He lost seven years of his life because of me. And now he’s out of prison and he looks so…he looks so… I don’t know, exactly. Not scared, but—out of place, I guess. And it’s all because of me. I want to make it up to him, somehow.” “You can’t change the past, Wren.” “I know that. And I’m not trying to; I’m trying to do something about the current situation. Should I give him free meals for the rest of his life?”

“Wren.” Was I imagining it, or did Dr. Mike sound annoyed? “I knew he’d get out of prison eventually. And I always thought that I’d want to see him, just to make sure that he was okay. But now that he’s come in, and I’ve seen him, he doesn’t actually look okay.” “What do you mean? Did he tell you this?” “No, he didn’t tell me. And honestly, to anyone else, he’d probably seem fine. But there’s… I don’t know, I can just sense some sort of sadness, I guess. Or guilt. Or sadness and guilt coming from him.” “And who’s to say you’re not projecting your own feelings on to him?” I thought about this. The whole idea of projection was really irritating because it seemed impossible to know if it was really happening or not. But I didn’t think it was just projection. “I don’t think it’s just that,” I said. “But you don’t know.” “Does anyone really know anything?” Dr. Mike sighed. I knew he was probably regretting telling me that I could come in. In a way, I was regretting coming in too, because I realized the only way I could feel better about this was if I saw Ollie again. And that wasn’t going to happen sitting here in this office. I stood up. “I just remembered I’ve got somewhere to be.” Dr. Mike raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands together. “Is that the truth?” “No,” I said. “It’s not. But don’t worry—I’ll pay you for the full session.” He started to say something else, but I left the office before he could finish. I drove to my

restaurant, which had been closed for at least an hour now. I unlocked the door and went inside, enjoying the quiet. Really, the whole reason this place even existed was because of Ollie. I needed to make these past seven years up to him, somehow. I just wasn’t quite sure how to go about doing that yet.

Chapter Six Ollie I’d finished with the morning chores and had just turned Bebop back out to pasture when I heard Garrett calling my name. I turned as Bebop moseyed off to graze. “He’s glad you’re back,” Garrett said. “Saw you out there earlier. Could never tell you’d spent the last seven years not on a horse.” “It feels good to be back in the saddle,” I said. “Feels good to just be outside again.” “I bet. And I appreciate all the hard work you’ve done, just in the short time you’ve been back. But I got a little side project for you to work on, if you’re interested. Follow me.” I followed him toward the barn, expecting it to be some sort of repair project, maybe new roofing, something that would keep me away from the guests. I was trying not to be paranoid, but every time someone looked at me, I felt as though they knew exactly who I was, where I’d been, what I’d done. But Garrett kept on going past the barn, the one of the corrals out back. It was a smaller paddock, and there was only one horse within its confines, a tall, rangy roan that immediately gave us a suspicious look as we approached. “No one’s had much luck with this fella,” Garrett said. “Thought maybe you could see what you’d be able to do with him. His name’s Ditto.” “Good-lookin’ horse,” I said.

“He is. He’s a smart one, too, and has a great conformation, which is why I don’t want to give up on him just yet. But he’s unseated every rider that’s been on him so far, and he doesn’t trust anybody.” “I’ll see what I can do,” I said. Garrett nodded. “Good. And hey, why don’t you come on up to the house later for supper? Marie would like that. She’s making pot roast.” “All right,” I said. I looked back at the horse, which had moved as far away from us as he possibly could. “I can do that.” I went back up to the barn and cleaned tack for a few hours, and then I decided to drive into town and stop back into that place—Ollie’s—again. I kind of got a kick out of it, having the same name as me and all. And I’d been thinking about that girl, Wren. I wasn’t sure why, other than she was the first woman I’d really had contact with since I’d gotten out, and now it was like she had imprinted on me or something. I felt a little nervous walking in, but then there she was, pouring coffee for some guy in a wide-brimmed Stetson, and she looked up right as I walked in. “Well, hello again,” she said. She sounded genuine, as though she were actually pleased to see me, or, at the very least, not displeased. “Hey,” I said. She gestured to one of the empty seats at the bar and was filling a coffee mug without me even having to ask. “It’s on the house this time.” “Yeah? Why’s that?” My tone sounded accusatory even though I was really just curious. Was it supposed to be this hard to talk to other people? “Last time you were here you left a five-dollar bill for a one-dollar cup of coffee.”

She smiled. “That’s a generous tip and all, but you barely got any service at all, so that’s why this one’s on the house. I didn’t even offer you the half and half before.” She slid a little silver pitcher with a lid on it to me. “I take it black. Thanks, though.” I was about to ask to look at a menu when the guy with the Stetson looked over. “Ollie Boardman,” he said. It was Keith Wilson, one of Garrett’s sons. He’d gained a lot of weight since I’d last seen him, the fabric of his shirt stretched to the max to contain his bulk. It was weird seeing him in a hat like that; he’d never been that interested in anything to do with the ranch. “Thought I recognized that voice of yours. So, how’s life out of prison treating you?” This wasn’t a friendly conversation; he was speaking loud enough for everyone in the whole restaurant to hear. I could feel gazes turning toward me. Wren stared right at me, and I couldn’t read the expression on her face. “It’s fine,” I mumbled. “You kill a man with your own two hands, and you’re out in what—seven years? I’ll be damned.” He slapped the counter and spun around on the stool to address the people sitting at the tables. “Isn’t that something?” I ducked my head and wished I could disappear into that cup of coffee. Like I could just shrink myself down and dive into the hot black liquid and disappear. I felt a little seed of anger plant itself right inside my chest. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to give it power, because I was afraid of what might happen if I did. I could tell by the expressions on the people’s faces that they weren’t sure if he was joking around or not. They glanced over at me, wondering if someone who looked like I did really had it in me to kill someone. Aside from the tattoos covering my arms, I thought that I looked like any other guy who might’ve stepped in there.

“Were you gonna order anything else, or are you ready for the check?” Wren asked Keith loudly. She didn’t wait for his response before slapping the check down in front of him. He gave her a look like he was about to say something, but then he reconsidered and leaned forward to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw down some bills, hitched his pants up, and then walked out. I waited a minute, hoping he’d get into his truck and leave. “I should go,” I said, standing up. “No way.” Wren reached out and touched my forearm; I jumped as though she’d shocked me. She gave me a quizzical look. “There’s no need for you to leave. Don’t let a guy like that run you out.” I hesitated, but then sat back down. It seemed that the other diners had gone back to eating; maybe they thought that Keith was making the whole thing up. “He’s not lying,” I said, keeping my voice low. The other people’s conversations were loud enough that I didn’t think they’d be able to hear me. I wasn’t sure why I was even telling her this, other than I felt like I had to. “What he said is true.” It was hard to read the expression on her face. She just held my gaze for several seconds. “I know,” she said finally. So people did know. But maybe it was a good thing, that way, it wouldn’t be such a shock. “It’s really just something that I want to move on from,” I said. “I’d really just like to forget about the whole thing.” “I hear you,” she said. “There’s plenty in my own life I’d just like to forget about, too.” There was something in her voice, something about the way she said it, that made

me think she might be able to understand if I told her everything. I should have known that Keith was around for a reason; when I walked up to the main house for supper that night, he was there, and so was his older brother, Jacob. I could tell by the expression on his face when I walked in that Jacob wasn’t any fonder of me than Keith was, but he was at least going to do what he could to disguise it. He shook my hand and smiled coolly. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t put on a ton of weight, and he’d aged rather well. Of course, last I’d heard, he was working as some paper pusher at some bank in Denver, not toiling outside under the hot sun. Marie was there too, and at least she seemed glad to see me. She was Jacob and Keith’s stepmother; Garrett’s wife had died when Keith was two, and he’d married Marie a few years later. Jacob and Keith had always been cordial to her, but they had never seen her as their real mother, even though she’d been there for most of their lives. She and Garrett had never had any children of their own; I didn’t know if that was by choice or circumstance. “We’re so glad to have you back working here,” Marie said, giving me a hug. “How has it been going so far?” I saw Jacob and Keith exchange looks. “It’s been good,” I said. “I really appreciate what you and Garrett have done for me so far.” She stepped back from the hug but still held onto my upper arms. “I promised your mom I’d watch out for you,” she said. “Though you do look like you’re doing quite all right for yourself.” “He’s twenty-five, Marie,” Keith said. “A grown man, in other words. I don’t think he

needs you to look out for him.” “You hush,” she said. “Let’s sit down and eat while the food’s still hot.” We sat down, Garrett at the head of the table and Marie to his right. Jacob sat at the foot, and I sat next to Marie, across from Keith. “So, you’re working here now,” Keith said as he scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Isn’t that something.” “We needed one more wrangler, and Ollie needed a job,” Garrett said, giving Keith a level look. “Simple as that. Besides, I didn’t see you rushing to help out.” Both Keith and Jacob had always hated ranch work, and neither had ever made any attempt to pretend otherwise. I doubted either of them had even been on a horse in the past decade. “Just because I’m not interested in working here doesn’t mean there aren’t other people you could’ve hired,” Keith said. I looked down at my plate. “This is not the sort of conversation we’re going to be having right now.” Garrett looked to Keith and then Jacob. “Do the two of you understand me? Last time I checked, I was the owner of this place, and the two of you didn’t want anything to do with it. Ollie’s put in more hours working here than the two of you combined. I don’t want to hear any more about it.” “It’s financial suicide,” Jacob burst out. “What do you think is going to happen if word gets out that you’ve got a convicted murderer here working for you? You think that people are going to be flocking to come here for vacation?” Keith laughed, slapping his knee. “Oh, yeah, I can just see it now: ‘Come on, honey, let’s fly the whole family out to the ranch in Colorado where that guy who killed someone

with his own two hands works.’” Marie put her fork down. “That’ll be enough of that,” she said. I stared at my plate, feeling a mixture of shame and anger. Part of it was that I actually agreed with both of them; if word did get out that I was working here, it certainly wasn’t crazy to think that people would choose to stay away. “Word doesn’t need to get out,” Garrett said. “We don’t need to advertise it. If someone asks, we can tell them, but if it doesn’t come up, then we can just leave it that way.” He gave Jacob and Keith a hard look. “What’s the matter with the two of you, anyway? I don’t see either of you chomping at the bit to get to work here. We’ve known Ollie more than half his life. He’s like family.” “He might as well be your cousin,” Marie said, “for as close as his mom and I were, so I expect you two to be kind to him.” “It’s nothing personal,” Jacob said. “Ollie?” He waited until I looked up at him to continue. The expression on his face was earnest, as though he really did care that I heard what he had to say. “It’s not personal. My brother and I are concerned about the ranch is all, and how it is going to reflect that you’re working here.” “So, it is personal, then,” Marie said. “How can you sit there and say it’s not, when you’re telling him you think he’s going to be bad for business?” I kept eating, trying to block out the conversation. If Jackson were here, he’d tell me to just get the fuck up and leave. Or knock their heads together. Jackson was like that, an extremist, not the middle-of-the-road sort of guy. But I felt frozen in my seat. If I got up and left, Jacob and Keith would think I was a pussy; if I stayed and started shit with either of them, that would just prove their point that I probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“We’re going to end this conversation right now,” Garrett said. “This isn’t the sort of talk I want at the dinner table in the first place, never mind that it isn’t any of your business anyway. And I’m talking to you, Jacob and Keith. If I want your advice about how to run this ranch, I’ll ask, but seeing as neither of you has ever, in the nearly thirty years you’ve been on this earth, shown any interest in this place whatsoever, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” He stabbed at the piece of pot roast on his plate. For a few minutes, there was only the sound of forks scraping on plates, food being chewed, and Keith sniffling, like he had a cold or bad allergies. I kept my head down and ate, figuring the sooner I finished, the sooner I’d be able to get out of there. The thing about it was, I knew that Jacob and Keith were right. People didn’t want to take their vacations at the same place as some guy who’d killed someone. Garrett was doing me a favor by giving me a job, but maybe it would’ve been better if I’d just gotten on that bus and gone somewhere new. Had a fresh start, be somewhere that no one would recognize me. I didn’t want to start trouble for anyone. I was starting to think it might be better if I just left town.

Chapter Seven Wren Twice now I’d seen Ollie and hadn’t said anything to him about who I was. How exactly does one bring that sort of thing up, anyway? “Have a few beers and then tell him,” Allison said. It was dark; she’d come over after getting the kids to bed, and we were sitting on my deck, drinking wine. “Shit, I wish I had a cigarette.” “I’m not going to have a few beers and tell him,” I said. “Then don’t tell him. But don’t you think that’s something he might want to know?” “He said himself he just wants to forget about the whole thing.” Allison considered this. “I guess you could do that.” “The weird thing is, I find myself thinking about him. A lot.” “I don’t think it’s that weird. You have this connection with this guy who’s suddenly shown back up. I’d probably be thinking about him a lot, too.” “I think it’d just be better if I didn’t bring it up. You know, that way we can both move on. Maybe that’s what needed to happen for me to finally get over this. He had to come back to town, I needed to see that he was okay, now I can stop having these awful nightmares and not drown my guilt in men.” “What—settle down and get married?” Allison said. “Don’t. Coming from someone who made the dire mistake of doing just that—don’t.”

“I’m not exactly young anymore,” I said. “Thirty isn’t that far off. What if I want to have kids?” “Don’t!” she said again. “Being a mother is the most thankless job in the world. And my kids aren’t even that bad, I know that. If they were really little assholes, the way some kids are, I don’t think I could handle it.” “Having a restaurant is kind of like having a child. Or being married. One of those things,” I said, trying to remember exactly how my mother had phrased it when I told her I was opening Ollie’s. “But we’re not here to talk about me getting married or having kids, which are two prospects I don’t see happening any time in the near or distant future.” “I think you should tell him,” Allison said. “But if you don’t, I understand.” “I think it’d be better if I didn’t. Because then just seeing me is going to remind him of everything, and I don’t want that. I’m just going to be nice to him, be a friend if he wants one. He looked so… I don’t know, so lost when he first came in.” “Well, you certainly owe him,” Allison said. “You should at least sleep with him.” I scowled. “I’m not going to sleep with him.” I’d been unable to get it off my mind, though. Not sleeping with him, but how I could make it up to him, without it seeming too obvious. I’d seen how Keith Wilson had treated him, and I doubted that Keith would be the only one to act like that. Ollie deserved a friend. That was what I’d do, I decided. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t tell Ollie who I was because it would just be a reminder. I would be as kind as I could to Oliver Boardman because I owed him at least that much.

PART TWO

Chapter Eight Ollie “The thing is,” Ryan was saying, “when a horse gets like that, there really isn’t much hope for it.” We were leaning on the corral fence, watching Ditto watch us with great trepidation. “I’d told Garrett I’d give it a shot, but the horse just doesn’t trust anyone. Which is a shame because he sure is a nice-looking animal.” I’d seen much worse, as far as horses distrusting humans, but I didn’t say anything. Ryan seemed the sort of guy that didn’t do well with someone opposing what he thought, and I didn’t feel like starting any shit with him. Ryan had decent enough horsemanship, but he wasn’t quite the yahoo that he believed himself to be. Not that it mattered. I was doing just what Garrett had suggested that day he picked me up—keeping my head down and my nose clean. The season still wasn’t in full swing yet, so there were only a handful of guests staying at the ranch right now, but if they asked me a question, I answered the best I could and then hurried off. Before, I would’ve stuck around and chatted. “You goin’ to the barbecue tonight?” Ryan asked. “I’m not sure,” I said. “Why? What else do you have going on?” His tone was almost accusatory.

“I don’t have anything else going on.” “Then why in hell wouldn’t you go? I know this is your first season working here and everything, so let me give you a little piece of advice: Garrett likes his employees to be sociable. That’s why they’re putting on this barbecue to begin with, sort of as a way to start the season off right.” If Ryan wanted to think this was my first season here, I’d let him. “I’ll try to make it,” I said. He nodded. “Good. Don’t be afraid to be sociable. Don’t be afraid to open up and let people know who you are. You got a girlfriend?” “No.” “Didn’t think so. Don’t take offense to that or nothin’. You just seem like the sort who keeps to himself.” “Simpler that way.” “Don’t I know it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m single right now, but that’s only ‘cause I managed to break it off with my girlfriend last year. She was talking marriage and all that, and I just wasn’t ready for that sort of thing. At least not with her. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to play the field, see what’s out there. You should invite someone to the barbecue! I did.” How in hell did this conversation go from training horses to inviting girls to barbecues? “It’s a little short notice,” I said. “Probably not going to find a girl to invite in the next five hours or so.” Ryan turned from the fence and patted me on the shoulder. “If you want to, you will,” he said. He felt bad for me, I realized. “Look,” he said, the expression on his face relaxing a little, “I know you’re not from around here, so it can be a little hard to integrate at first.”

“How do you know I’m not from around here?” “I can just tell, I’m good like that. But I’m not from around here, either. I grew up on a horse farm in Upstate New York. Dressage and jumpers, mostly, which I have about zero interest in. Spent half my childhood begging my parents to get me a Quarter Horse instead of that ridiculous little Welsh pony they wanted me to ride. Took fifty bucks out of my dad’s wallet and bought this western saddle I saw in the window at one of the antique shops in town and would ride the Welsh pony with that, even though it sure as hell didn’t fit right. I’ve been spending summers working various ranches for five years now. Someday, I’d like to have my own. A place like this though, a real working ranch, not just some dude ranch.” He patted me on the shoulder again. “But I can tell you, when I first came out here, there was a little adjusting to be done. It wasn’t all smooth-sailing. Which is why I’m encouraging you to find a lady and come on down to the barbecue tonight. You don’t have to slink around here like an abused dog that’s afraid it’s about to get its ass kicked. Don’t be afraid to be social. You must have some skills, otherwise Garrett wouldn’t be putting you in charge of this horse here.” I knew he was just trying to help out, in his own way, so I smiled and nodded. “I’ll give it a shot,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was referring to. I’d let him think what he wanted of it. “Good man,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”He didn’t finish the sentence but pushed back from the railing and walked off. Ditto jerked his head up at the movement and stamped his hooves, but he didn’t try anything. I watched him for a few more minutes, and then I decided to go back to my cabin. The blisters on my heels were almost completely gone, but there was one that was still a bit raw, and the Band-Aid I’d put on this morning had fallen off and had worked its way up under the arch of my foot.

There was someone sitting on the porch of my little cabin as I approached, a woman, I could tell, though I didn’t recognize her. Not at first, but as I got closer, close enough that it would be too late to turn around and walk away, I realized who it was. Carolyn. “Ollie,” she said, standing up. I watched the expression on her face as she took in what I looked like now, seven years since the last time she’d seen me. I never had gotten around to breaking up with her. She’d come to Reynolds several times that first year I was incarcerated, but I hadn’t come out to see anyone. Eventually, she stopped trying to see me. She walked over and stopped right in front of me, just a few inches separating us. I took a step back without thinking about it. “My sister said she saw you getting coffee the other day. I almost didn’t believe her. I didn’t figure that you’d be coming back here.” Carolyn looked a little older, but she still looked good. In high school, she’d been one of the popular girls, the girl that the other girls wanted to be like, to be friends with. Her hair was cut shorter now, and there were fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but the years had been kind to her. “Yeah,” I said. “That was me. And I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming back here either, but where else would I have gone?” “Becca said you were with an older woman.” “Just a friend.” I’d have to get back over there to see Paula at some point. “How have you been?” “Been all right.” She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and the sunlight glinted off the gold band she wore on her left ring finger. “You married?” I asked. She shook her head. “No. Well, yes, but that’s going to be ending soon.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” “Don’t be—it’s better this way. We gave it our best. It’s ending amicably. Although it seems like most people say that, whether it’s really that way or not.” She smiled sheepishly. “You’re not even going to believe who I’m about to be divorced from.” “Who?” “Jeff Salter.” I smiled, maybe the first real smile since I’d gotten out. During high school, Jeff had been one of the “computer kids”—not a nerd, but almost. Despite his father being a sheep rancher, Jeff rarely ever went outside and was mostly glued to a computer monitor. “I know, I know, have your laugh,” she said. “He’s actually done quite well for himself in the tech industry. We lived out in San Jose for a while but moved back here last year. Hey, you know, I’ve run into your brother a few times.” “You have?” I asked, surprised. “Yeah. We’d go up to San Francisco a lot, and even though it’s a city, I swear, it’s like a small town too, the way you’d run into the same people. Anyway, we’d gone up to Twin Peaks—the view is amazing—and I saw this guy with a group of his friends; they were riding bikes but had stopped to take a break. And I knew he looked familiar. I asked Jeff and he said it was Darren. So, I went over and said hi. He asked me how you were doing, but of course I didn’t have anything to tell him.” She looked up at the sky, blinking, and I realized she was trying not to cry. She sniffed. “I told myself I wasn’t going to get upset,” she said, still looking up. “I told myself I was just going to come over here and see if it was really you, make sure you were all right, and then leave. My sister didn’t even think I should do that, but I had to.” “I appreciate it,” I said softly. If she was trying to make me feel bad, she was doing a

hell of a good job. “Why wouldn’t you see me?” she asked. “All those times I drove out there to the prison. I’d sit at one of the tables in the visitor’s room and wait for you, so sure that this time, you’d come out. You’d see me. But you never did. So I had to move on, you know? I had to. I didn’t know what you were thinking. I didn’t know what you wanted.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t see anyone; it wasn’t just you.” “But didn’t you miss me?” Had I missed her? I remembered lying there at night, not wanting to go to sleep, unable to stop the onslaught of memories about my old life, sometimes the most mundane shit: brushing my teeth, pouring a cup of coffee at my mom’s counter, driving over to Carolyn’s to pick her up. Of course, I thought about the other stuff, too: kissing her, the smell of her hair after she’d just shampooed it, the fact that I was going to break up with her but hadn’t gotten the chance, because I killed someone before I was able to. “I did,” I said. “But I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I thought it’d be better that way.” “Better for you, maybe.” She was looking at me again, and it seemed like she wasn’t going to cry anymore. It seemed like maybe she was going to close this distance between the two of us real quick and give me a good slap across the face, which I deserved, and if she’d done it, I would’ve just stood there and taken it. “I am sorry I hurt you,” I said. “That wasn’t my intention.” “I know it wasn’t. But it did all the same.” She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She started to say something but then stopped. “What?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nothing. Well, we don’t have to talk about it right now. Another

time, maybe. Like I said, I didn’t come over here to make you feel bad.” “I know you didn’t. And it’s good to see you.” She smiled a little then, and there was something comforting about being around her, maybe because she was familiar, maybe because I knew she was someone that my mother had been so fond of. The silence stretched, with neither of us saying anything, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was, in fact, easy to remember why I had liked— okay, loved—Carolyn in the first place: she was kind and gentle and just easy to be around. “Hey!” I turned at the sound of the voice, knowing who it was before I saw his face, and I wished that I’d invited Carolyn inside instead of standing out here where anyone could see us. It was Ryan, who had been heading toward his own cabin, but when he saw me and Carolyn standing there, he veered over. Nothing I could do to stop him. “Hey there,” he said, big smile on his face. He held out his hand to Carolyn. “I’m Ryan.” “Carolyn,” she said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “Now, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to make sure that Ollie here had invited you to the ranch barbecue tonight.” Ryan laughed. “It’s funny—Ollie and I were just talking earlier about him having someone to invite, and he said he didn’t think he’d find anybody in time. But here you are! So, it’s perfect. I was trying to tell him when you’re new to some place, you’ve just got to put yourself out there and try to be friendly. I didn’t think he was really listening to what I was saying, but I guess I was wrong!” He clapped me on the shoulder, his grin getting wider, as though he’d just done me a big favor. “I’ll let you two get back to your conversation.”

“He’s rather… forthcoming,” Carolyn said once he was out of earshot. “Yeah, he is.” “‘New to this area?’” “I didn’t get into the details with him about my past. Just easier to let him think I was new on the scene. In a way, I guess I kind of am.” “How is it being…being back?” “Good. Strange. In some ways, it feels like everything’s changed, and in others, it feels like nothing has.” “You seem like you’re doing all right. Although you were never an easy one to read.” I knew that last comment was not a compliment. “I wasn’t expecting to be back here, but it’s a good thing. I don’t really know what else I’d be doing if I wasn’t.” “So, there’s a barbecue tonight?” “That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Looks like you’re invited now, too.” “Only if you want me to go. I don’t want to go if it’s going to make you uncomfortable. Though any excuse to get out of the house is good. Jeff and I are still living together. Separate bedrooms,” she added quickly. I thought about it for a few seconds. I didn’t even want to go to this barbecue to begin with, but I wasn’t about to tell Carolyn she shouldn’t go, especially since Ryan had made it sound like I was looking for someone to invite. I figured I owed her at least that much.

Chapter Nine Wren Ryan had said he’d come pick me up for the barbecue once he was finished with the evening chores. It didn’t dawn on me until then that it was at Wilson Ranch, and it was quite likely I’d run into Ollie there. I suddenly felt strange about the whole thing. I texted Allison to ask her if she thought it was weird that I was feeling this way, but instead of responding to my message, she came over. “Kids are having a sleepover at my in-laws’,” she said. “Nigel and I are supposed to be having a romantic date night, but what I really feel like doing is lounging on the couch with a couple pints of ice cream. Is this really who I’ve turned into?” “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe I should just skip out on this barbecue thing, and you can come over here and we can eat ice cream and have a Game of Thrones marathon.” “I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I bailed on Nigel for a girls’ night. So what were you trying to say in your text? You weren’t really making sense. You’re going to a barbecue?” “Yeah. With that guy Ryan.” “The one that has the hots for you?” “That’s the one.” “What’s the problem?” “The problem is that he works at Wilson Ranch, which is where Ollie works. So, if I

go to this barbecue, I’m probably going to see Ollie there, and I just feel… I don’t know, I just feel weird about it, I guess. Which I realize is stupid. I’m probably just overthinking it or…” I let my voice trail off because what I was saying wasn’t even making sense to me at this point. “I’m not attracted to him,” I said. “Ollie.” Allison smirked. “Sure you aren’t.” “I’m not! I just feel like I have this connection with him. The problem being that he doesn’t know about it. He doesn’t know who I am!” “He could if you told him.” “I know, but I still don’t think should. It just seems like it’d be better if I didn’t say anything, like it would be a reminder of something he didn’t want to be reminded of.” “Then don’t say anything.” “Should I wear this?” I gestured to the jeans and tank top I had on. “Change the shirt. Something a little… I don’t know. Not so plain.” I went over, dug through my drawers, and came up with a short-sleeved pale pink top, made of soft cotton, with a V-neck. “Cute,” Allison said. “And maybe wear those black ballet flats with it.” I slipped my feet into the shoes and then twisted my hair back into a messy bun, which was my go-to hairstyle for any occasion that I wanted to look slightly dressed up for but didn’t want to appear as though I’d spent too much time prepping. “All right,” I said, holding my arms out and turning in a circle. “How do I look?” “You look hot,” Allison said with a grin. “I’d fuck you. If I was into that sort of thing.”

Allison left a few minutes before Ryan showed up in one of the Wilson Ranch pickup trucks. “Lookin’ good,” he said with a whistle when I came out. “You sure do clean up nice.” “Thanks,” I said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” “So, you been out to the ranch before?” he asked as we drove off. “No. But I know of the place.” I knew Garrett Wilson because he’d stop in and get a coffee sometimes, or occasionally he and his wife would come out there for lunch. I’d always liked him, but knowing that he had given Ollie his old job back made me like him even more. There were actually quite a few people there when we arrived, more than I’d been expecting. It felt like a festive atmosphere, and I hopped out of the truck, excited. “I brought some brownies,” I said, placing the foil-wrapped tray onto one of the picnic tables that was laden with all types of salad: pasta, potato, mixed greens with an array of sliced vegetables. There was a fire going in the pit, and Garrett was strumming his guitar while he talked with a few people I didn’t recognize. “I was hoping you’d bring brownies,” Marie said. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve tried to duplicate this recipe, and I never even come close!” She peeled a corner of the foil back and pulled one out. “Nothing like a woman who knows how to cook,” Ryan said as he walked over. He slung an arm around my shoulders. I felt myself stiffen. I waited a second and then pivoted from underneath his arm, making it look like I was reaching for a bottle of seltzer water. “Guess it’s good I know how to cook since I own a restaurant,” I said, twisting the cap off the bottle of water.

“It’s funny—your restaurant has got the same name as our newest employee,” Ryan said. He craned his neck around. “Met him yet? Where is he? I was telling him he should show up to the barbecue tonight.” I saw Ollie sitting near the fire, next to a woman I thought I might have seen once or twice around town before, but wasn’t totally sure. Had she come into the restaurant before? “There he is,” Ryan said. “Oh, good, that woman he was talking to earlier actually did come. I suggested that, too.” I looked at Ryan. “What are you, Cupid or something?” He grinned. “Something like that. I could show you later.” “Oh!” Marie exclaimed, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “I just remembered about something I need to go get in the kitchen. If you’ll excuse me!” She hurried off, brownie in hand. “I think you just scared off your boss’s wife,” I said. “Nothing to be scared of.” He was inching closer and closer. I took a big step back. “I’m going to go mingle!” I said. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Luckily, there were enough people there that I could go off and start chatting and not have to worry about Ryan needling his way into the conversation. I talked with Susan and Tom, who were on vacation from Rhode Island. I told them they should come by the restaurant at some point during their stay and then wondered if that was solicitation or something. Maybe, but Garrett probably wouldn’t mind. I got a plate and filled it with barbecue chicken wings, pasta salad, potato salad, and a marinated veggie skewer. I drank a lemonade and talked with Marie; when Garrett broke out the guitar and started playing what sounded like the best of Pete Seeger, I sang along when I knew the words. All the

while, I tried to avoid having to sit near Ryan, and I kept my eye on Ollie, who seemed to alternate between looking settled and like he might be enjoying himself, to looking completely out of place and like he’d rather be anywhere else. The woman he was with didn’t seem to leave his side, or at least not whenever I looked their way. At one point, when they were sitting by the fire, she had her head resting against his shoulder. I went up to the table with all the food to get another brownie (the recipe was always a hit, but this batch had come out particularly excellent), and when I turned, I saw that Ollie was by himself. I moseyed on over, hoping that I didn’t have bits of brownie stuck to my teeth. “Hey,” he said, looking surprised to see me. “Hi there,” I said. “How’s it going?” “Doing all right. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” A slightly pained look crossed his face. “Not that it’s a bad thing or anything, I just meant…” He looked down at his boots and then back up at me, an apologetic smile on his face. “I mean, nice to see you.” “You too.” I could tell he was nervous, or uncomfortable, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was making him feel that way, or he was just feeling that way in general. It must’ve been strange to go from being in prison to being free. “You try the brownies?” “Not yet. I’m not that hungry.” “Well, they’re really good… I made them.” There was a pitch in my voice that I hadn’t heard before. To him, it probably sounded like I was talking normally, but I could hear the eagerness, my desire for him to like me, for our conversation to gel. I had never felt this way with a guy before. “Guess I’ll have to give them a try then,” he said. He was about to say something else when the woman he was with reappeared.

“Hello,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Carolyn.” We shook, and I told her my name. “Oh,” she said. “You own Ollie’s, don’t you? My sister goes there sometimes.” “That’d be me.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Interesting choice of name.” She put her arm around Ollie’s waist. “I mean, it’s a good one, for sure.” Then the three of us just stood there, and it was about as awkward as you could get. I could see, over Carolyn’s shoulder, Ryan approaching, and I figured I better disengage from this conversation before he came over and suggested we all go out on a double date together. “Well, nice to meet you!” I said to Carolyn. “Have a good night, you guys.” Eventually though, I had to talk to Ryan, and as the night wore on and the numbers dwindled, it was basically near impossible to keep dodging him. Ollie and Carolyn had left some time ago, and one by one, the others said good-night. I was always the last man standing at any party or gathering, except it looked like Ryan was going to give me a run for my money. Marie and Garrett were the last two, and once the fire had burned out, they said good-night too and headed up to the main house. So. That just left Ryan and me. “Are you avoiding me?” he asked. “Of course not. I just saw some people that I wanted to talk to, is all. The food was really good.” “I see you’ve met our newest employee,” he said. “To be honest, I’m surprised he even showed up.”

“Really? Why’s that?” Ryan shrugged. “He seems like the sort of person who keeps to himself. Doesn’t really seem like he’s very sociable. Kind of strange that Garrett hired him in the first place.” “Do you even know him that well?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. There was a defensive edge in my voice. Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Can’t say that I do, though I have a feeling if I tried, he wouldn’t make it that easy. Though he did look comfortable enough chatting it up with you.” It pleased me to hear that, though I wasn’t quite sure that was true. “He’s not friendly like you are,” Ryan said. He put his arm around me again and tried to pull me closer to him. I could smell beer on his breath. “It’s getting pretty late,” I said. “I think I probably better be getting back home. Got to be up early tomorrow.” “You looked so good tonight,” he said, nuzzling his face into my hair, like some sort of dog nosing through the underbrush, hot on the trail of something. “At one point, I looked over and saw the way the light from the bonfire was illuminating your face, and I just thought to myself, ‘My god, she is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.’” His lips were on my earlobe. I laughed and tried to push him away. “I didn’t realize you could be so poetic,” I said. “But no, I don’t want to—” “There’s a lot of things I can be, if you let me—” “I really have to go,” I interrupted. “Please, stop.” But his grip wasn’t letting up, and he’d started kissing my neck, where I’m rather ticklish. It was mostly his arm, though, and the fact that he wouldn’t let me go. I elbowed

him in the ribcage, hard, and when he flinched, I reached up and grabbed his arm and yanked him off of me. I stood up from the bench and watched him as he clutched his side and winced. “What the fuck?!” he shouted. “I know you heard me to tell you to stop,” I said. “Yet you seemed to keep going. Me telling you to stop wasn’t a suggestion—I meant it.” He straightened, his face a mixture of anger and pain. “Don’t even think about trying anything,” I said. “I took two years of Krav Maga.” “Two years of what?” “An Israeli martial art.” And I had. I’d made the hour-and-a-half drive to the nearest city, Boulder, every Sunday morning, to take a two-hour class that taught me how to defend myself. After that night in the Watering Hole parking lot, I’d resolved to learn what I needed to so I could ensure something like that would never happen again. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, it’s not like I was going to rape you,” he snapped. “You’re a crazy bitch.” “You know, it’s hard for me to differentiate between rapists and non-rapists when the person in question doesn’t seem to have a firm grasp on the meaning of stop. Or no.” He stared at me. I didn’t feel afraid so much as annoyed that this was the way the night was ending. I’d rather enjoyed myself, up until this point. “So, as I was saying, I’m going to go. And no, you don’t need to walk me to my car, thanks.” I didn’t wait for a response; I turned and strode off. It was only then that I remembered I didn’t have a car to walk to because he’d picked me up. Shit. I kept walking, though. It was too far to hoof it all the way back to my place, but it

was getting late, so I didn’t know if I should call Allison or not. I could see in the distance that there was a light still on in one of the rooms at the main house. Marie would probably give me a ride, and I could sweeten the deal by promising her a pan of brownies. I started walking up there but then heard someone say my name. I turned in the direction of the voice. It was Ollie, silhouetted by the pale moonlight. He sounded surprised to see me. “I didn’t know you were still here,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” “You didn’t,” I said. “I was just… I was going up to the main house to see if Marie was still awake. I forgot that I didn’t have my car here.” “You need a ride home?” “Errr, yeah, actually. If you wouldn’t mind.” “’Course I wouldn’t. Come on, the truck’s over here.” We walked side-by-side across the soft grass. “Thanks for doing this,” I said. “I really appreciate it. I hope I’m not getting in the way of anything you had to do.” “Nah,” he said. “I was just going to take a little walk. Helps me sleep better at night if I take a walk first.” My fingertips brushed his as we walked along, and he yanked his hand back as though I’d just shocked him. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not trying to hold your hand or anything. I’m not drunk; I can walk perfectly fine.” He chuckled. “You’re funny, you know that?” “I’ve been told that before.”

We walked along in amicable silence for a dozen or so strides. “You friends with Ryan?” he asked. “Uh, yeah, kind of.” I paused. “So, what about you? Is Carolyn your girlfriend? She seemed nice.” “Carolyn?” He coughed. “We went out in high school for a while. But she’s not my girlfriend now.” “Oh,” I said. “We never really ended things properly though,” he continued. “So, it’s kind of a gray area. It shouldn’t be, since so much time has passed, but … I don’t know. Relationships can be complicated.” He sounded increasingly uncomfortable, and I felt bad that I’d asked. “She was there mostly because Ryan had seen me talking with her, and he invited her to come.” “Yeah,” I said. “That’s basically why I came too, because of Ryan. Though obviously things didn’t go quite according to plan. He was the one who gave me a ride here. I should have taken my own car, though.” “What—did he forget to bring you back home or something?” “Something like that.” I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and heard the sound of something large moving. “What was that?” “Just a horse,” Ollie said. “Ditto, I think. In the corral over there. Garrett asked me to work with him, get him ride-ready. I guess he’s been giving people a lot of trouble.” “What’s wrong with him?”

Ollie shrugged. “Who knows? Was probably mistreated at some point, which is a shame because he’s got a lot of potential.” “I always wanted to know how to ride a horse,” I said. “Yeah? How come you didn’t?” “My parents wouldn’t let me take lessons. They thought it was too dangerous.” “Well, it’s never too late to learn. Come by the ranch some time. I can take you out. Garrett’s got all kinds of good horses to start a beginner on.” “Really? You wouldn’t mind?” “Not at all. Here’s my truck.” He was mostly quiet during the ride back to my place, but I didn’t mind. I liked just being near him, and I sensed that he appreciated me not trying to fill the silence with chatter. “This is me right here,” I said as he approached my house, feeling a bit disappointed that we’d gotten back here so soon. “Well.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. I’d never had a problem before, being forward with a guy, so long as I felt like I was the one in control. That meant there’d been countless front seats I’d leaned across, initiating the kiss. And I wanted to kiss Ollie right now more than I’d ever wanted to kiss anyone, but for some reason, I couldn’t do it. Something kept me there on my side of the truck, and I heard myself saying good night and then fumbling with the door handle. I thanked him for the ride home, and he said no problem, it was his pleasure. It was probably just my imagination, but I thought that he looked disappointed I hadn’t tried to kiss him. It’s a warm, bright morning, and I’m out for a run. The sun is beaming down on me, and my legs feel strong, like they could carry me for another twenty miles without tiring.

I’m breathing heavy, but it’s not painful. Everything about this feels good. Up ahead, I see a truck with a horse trailer pulled over on the side of the road, a guy has gotten out. He’s wearing jeans and a black and white button-down shirt, like the one Ryan was wearing, but I can’t see his face, it’s like it’s been blurred out the way they do sometimes in TV interviews where they want to keep the person anonymous. I know I shouldn’t stop, but I feel myself slowing, first to a jog, then to a walk, despite my mind screaming at my body to keep going. The blurred face says, “Get into the horse trailer.” Before I can say no, he lunges and grabs me. Those legs of mine that had felt so strong and capable just a few seconds ago now kick feebly, doing nothing at all as the guy drags me into the back of horse trailer. He throws me down onto the rubber surface, and I get shavings on my hands, in my hair. “I don’t want to! Stop it!” I screech. I’m on my hands and knees, trying to scramble away, even though there’s a solid metal wall in front of me. Nowhere to go. He grabs the waist of my pants and yanks back, causing me to tip forward and fall flat on my face, arms splayed. It feels like the wind was knocked out of me, and those lungs that were operating so efficiently before are now struggling to draw in a breath. “Please stop,” I gasp, knowing that anything I say is pointless. He’s still behind me, and I feel rough nylon rope wrap around my neck, feel him pull it tight, first slowly then with a jerk that makes my eyes bulge and my mouth hang open, even though no sound is coming out. Black spots swarm in my field of vision, and my hands instinctively go to my neck, but the rope is so tight it feels like it’s cutting into my skin. Noises sound distant, far away, but I can hear him laughing. The pressure inside my head is so much it feels like it’s about to explode. My tongue’s lolling out of my mouth, and my limbs are twitching, and he’s right there behind me, breath hot in my ear. “How’s all that Krav Maga training working out for you now?” he asks, and that’s

the last thing I hear as everything else falls away. “It scared the shit out of me,” I said to Dr. Mike. I shuddered; just having to talk about it brought back that feeling of being strangled, of not having any control whatsoever. “I’ve had some pretty bad nightmares, but never one where the person actually killed me.” “It can be very unsettling,” Dr. Mike said. “But it’s understandable why you had such a dream.” “It is?” “Well, you just got finished telling me about that experience with Ryan.” “Yeah, but it wasn’t like I was actually in danger then.” “Who’s to say you weren’t? Based on what you’ve said, you told him ‘no,’ and he didn’t want to take that as an answer.” “Right, but I put an end to that pretty quickly.” “And that’s good. Your self-defense training paid off. Your dream, though, reflects an underlying fear of what might have happened if that training hadn’t worked. There’s no foolproof method for anything, so it’s natural there’s going to be some doubt and fear.” “So, that’s what you think it means?” “No one can say for sure, but yes, I think it’s a fair assumption.” “The thing is—aside from that, the night went really well. I had a lot of fun. I talked to some new people. I also talked with Ollie, and then he gave me a ride home. And I wanted to kiss him so badly, but I didn’t. I exercised restraint!” Dr. Mike and I had spent many sessions discussing the merits of “exercising restraint.” “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I might be giving myself too much credit. I really did want to kiss him, but it was like there was some other force that was keeping me from doing it. So, I don’t know if it was really me exercising restraint, or that other force.” “What other force might that be?” “I have no idea! I just know that I’ve never felt that before, so it seems kind of unlikely that it’s something coming from me.” “Perhaps you were merely picking up on the signal that he didn’t want to kiss you.” “Huh?” I pushed myself up from my reclining position and looked at Dr. Mike, who was sitting there, one leg crossed over the other, yellow legal pad in his lap. “Why did you say that?” “I brought that up as a reason for this ‘other force,’ as you so put it. The other force you were feeling—which you just said you didn’t think was coming from you—could perhaps be the fact that he didn’t want to kiss you.” “Whoa whoa whoa,” I said. “Fact? How do you know that’s a fact? You weren’t there. Now it’s a fact all of a sudden? That he didn’t want to kiss me?” “I find your defensive reaction to all this quite interesting,” Dr. Mike said mildly. “And no, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know if he wanted to kiss you or not—” “So, maybe don’t refer to it as fact…” “—But sometimes when we pick up on signals from other people, we are able to correctly interpret them and modify our own behaviors as a result. This could have been one such scenario.” “But that would mean he didn’t want to kiss me.”

“Correct. Which you seem to be having a hard time accepting.” “I just… I mean… I think I’m a pretty good judge of those things, and I have a very strong feeling that had I leaned over and kissed him, he most definitely would have kissed me back. I’m almost one hundred percent sure of it, in fact.” Dr. Mike nodded and scribbled something on his notepad. “Perhaps,” he said.

Chapter Ten Ollie The thing about most horses was that you didn’t know their history unless, of course, you raised them yourself. No one had a clue about what had or hadn’t happened in Ditto’s life so far, but it had obviously been something not that great because he clearly trusted no one. I’d gone down to the corral every day since Garrett had told me about him, sometimes multiple times a day. At first, he’d just pin his ears back and go to the other end of the corral, where he’d stand and we’d sort of have a stare down. But he’d started to get used to me a little, or at least being a bit more accepting of my presence, because now when I went down there, he completely ignored me. Today, there was a wind kicking up, and all the horses were in high spirits, Ditto included. A gust whipped through, and he took off at a gallop, letting a few bucks out as he careened around his confines. As I watched him, I thought of what a good roping horse he’d make. I stayed there a while longer while he kicked up his heels, and then I went and got into my truck and drove into town. I didn’t have anywhere particular I needed to be, but I told myself I should get a coffee. Really though, I was hoping to see Wren. I hadn’t seen her since Saturday night at the barbecue, but I’d certainly been thinking about her plenty. It’d been nice talking, that night I’d given her a ride home. I tried not to think about it, but it was hard because I’d felt comfortable around her, like she was easy to talk to, and she wasn’t judging me. Of course, she didn’t know what I’d done, so maybe that was why she wasn’t judging me, but it was still nice either way.

I didn’t see her when I walked in, but right as I was taking my seat at the counter, she pushed the two swinging doors open and appeared, carrying two plates. “Hey there!” she said. “Let me drop this food off, and I’ll be right over.” “Just came in for a coffee,” I said when returned. “How’s it going?” “Going pretty good.” I watched as she poured the coffee and the way the corners of her mouth curved into a smile. “Nice to see you.” “And remember how we talked about riding horses? I was thinking maybe you could come by, and I’d give you a lesson. If you were still interested.” “Why, I’d love that!” she said. “Lena, I’m going to be a cowgirl after all!” she called across the room to one of the waitresses. “When should I come over?” “Does tomorrow work?” “Sure does! Oooh, I’m excited!” She grinned, and I found myself grinning back at her, her enthusiasm contagious. There was something alluring about her, not just the fact that she had a pretty face, but something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. After I had my coffee, I said good-bye to Wren. I had another matter to take care of, and I checked my pocket to make sure the little slip of paper was in there. Carolyn had left me her phone number, but when I went to use a pay phone, I couldn’t find one. The one phone booth I could remember, near the library, was still there, but the phone had been removed. Ripped out, maybe. It looked pretty rough, and it didn’t look like it was going to be fixed it any time soon. An older guy was coming out of the library and stopped when he saw me standing there, looking at the phone booth. “Gonna be standing there a while, sonny, if you’re waiting for that thing to ever work again,” he said. “You forget to charge your phone or

something?” “No, I don’t—” “’Cause my wife, she’s always forgetting to charge the damn thing, until I did some research and got her one of these portable chargers; it’s good for up to three full phone charges. Except you have to remember to charge that. But it’s been a good investment. I recommend you get one.” “I don’t have a phone,” I said. “Why in hell not? Even I have one. Granted, it’s not one of those fancy pants ones, but it works.” “I used to have one. But there were still phone booths.” “What—you been living under a rock all these years? Get with the times,” he chided. “I’d let you use mine, but I can’t seem to find it. It can’t seem to stay in my pockets, I’m always misplacing it, and unfortunately, they don’t make something that can be any help with that.” “A fanny pack?” I said jokingly. He didn’t say anything right away, but then his eyebrows shot up and he grinned. “Now that’s a bright idea! My wife was trying to get me to carry some sort of satchel or something ridiculous like that.” He patted my upper arm. “You have a good one, now! Maybe go out and get yourself a phone.” I stood there for a minute after he’d walked off, and then decided to go back into Ollie’s. Wren was right there, leaning on the counter, chatting with one of the customers. “Back so soon?” she asked. “Yeah,” I said. “I went to use the pay phone, but it’s not there anymore.” The customer she was talking to, a heavyset woman with short, curly hair, swiveled

on the stool and looked at me. “That’s been out of service for years now!” she said. “There’s no point in them leaving that thing up there, but they do.” She squinted at me. “You trying to use it or something?” “I was.” “Your phone died?” “I don’t actually have one.” I looked at Wren. “Could I use the one here?” “Of course you can, but maybe we should go get you a phone. There’s a place a few blocks down. Come on, I’ll go with you.” She untied her apron and tossed it under the counter. “I’ll be back in a little bit,” she said to one of the waitresses. She smiled at the curly-haired woman. “See you later, Renee.” “Bye,” Renee said. “Have fun phone shopping,” she said to me. “You can just leave like that?” I asked Wren as we stepped outside. “Sure, I can.” She shrugged. “I’m the boss, right?” “Good point.” “I wouldn’t leave like that if we were in the weeds or anything, but it’s slow. And you need to get a phone.” I smiled. “I thought you said you liked that I didn’t have one.” “I think I said it was refreshing—which it is—but it’d be nice to have a way to get in touch with you.” “You know, there is a phone in my cabin, but I don’t know the number. Actually, I’m not even sure that it works.” “You don’t strike me as the type who’s in his cabin too often. I’m not saying you

should turn into one of those people that’s glued to their phone, but having a way to be in touch is good. And what if you’re out riding, and you get bucked off and need to call for help?” “Guess I better not get bucked off.” We came to an intersection and stopped on the curb, waiting for the light to change. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about this, but I felt a surge of happiness go through me. Here I was, on this nice day, standing next to an attractive woman under the clear blue sky, the sun shining down on it all. At that moment in time, I felt like I was about the luckiest man alive. I looked at Wren, who was watching the traffic light, and took in her profile—the way she had a handful of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, her long eyelashes. She must’ve felt me looking because she turned and smiled, and she had one of those smiles that went all the way up to her eyes. “Phone shopping can often be a painful experience,” she said, “but let’s see if we can make it as quick and painless as possible. Luckily, I know the manager here; he comes in most mornings for his muffin and coffee. He knows I’ll have no qualms withholding either —or both!—if he tries to give us the runaround.” The light changed, and we started to walk across the intersection. “You can do that?” I asked. “Refuse service like that?” “Of course I can. Here’s his place right here.” The manager, Steve, seemed more than happy to see Wren, and when she told him I was getting a new phone, he seemed more than happy for me, too. He started showing me a number of different phones, all of them that same sleek, rectangular shape that seemed like they’d break if you even looked at them the wrong way.

“No flip phones?” I asked. “That’s the kind I used to have.” “We’ve got one,” Steve said, casting a doubtful glance at the one flip phone they had. “But really… that technology’s so dated. Get yourself a phone like this, and you’ve got the world at your fingertips. If you’re afraid of it breaking, I recommend this one, which has a shatterproof screen and is waterproof, to boot.” It seemed like way more phone than I’d ever need, but I figured I might as well get with the times. The world at my fingertips? That didn’t sound so bad. We spent another fifteen minutes in there, getting everything set up, deciding on what plan I should pick, and getting a quick tutorial. “If you run into any problems, just ask Wren about it, she’s a whiz,” Steve said. He looked at Wren. “You going to have the morning glory muffins tomorrow?” “Since you asked so nicely, I think we will,” she said. He grinned. “Makes getting up in the morning so much easier when you know you got a good cup of coffee and a muffin. You two have a good day, now.” “See?” Wren said when we stepped outside. “That was pretty painless, wasn’t it?” “It was,” I said. “And now you have a new phone. What’s your number, by the way? I’ll call you, and then you’ll have mine.” I had to read the number Steve had written down for me on the receipt. She typed it into her phone. “I appreciate you helping me out like this,” I said. “Any time,” she said. I walked her back to the restaurant. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll give you a call tomorrow before I head over for my riding lesson!” She gave me one more smile and then went inside. I stood there for a minute, smiling after her, then I turned and went over to my truck. I called Carolyn and asked her if she was busy. She said no. “Where are you?” “I’m down at Ollie’s, actually. Was just getting a cup of coffee.” “Why don’t I come meet you there? I was out running errands; I can be there in five minutes.” “Okay, sure,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.” I fiddled with the phone while I waited for Carolyn, getting used to swiping the screen to navigate. When she arrived, she parked next to me. “Looks like someone got a new phone,” she said. “Yeah. Still trying to figure it out.” “They make them pretty user-friendly nowadays. Are you hungry? Want to go get something to eat?” I slipped the phone into my pocket. “I was thinking maybe we could take a little walk.” “A walk? Sure.” We took a right out of the parking lot and started walking, in the opposite direction from the phone store. Carolyn was awful close to me, and I could tell she wanted to reach out and hold my hand. I took a deep breath. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” I began.

“Oh? What’s that?” “Well… There’s no real good way to put this,” I said. “It’s something that I should have told you, and I’m sorry that I never did.” “Told me what?” “I was going to break up with you.” There was no nice way to phrase it, after all these years. “I’m sorry. I’d been thinking about it for a while and then…” My voice trailed off. “And then everything happened the way it did.” Her mouth was open like she was going to say something, but no words were coming out. Her brow furrowed, and a line appeared across her forehead. She blinked. “A while?” she finally said. “You were wanting to break up with me for ‘a while’?” “Maybe not a while. Not months and months, or anything. But—” “Before or after we slept together?” “What?” “When we slept together—were you thinking of breaking up with me then?” “I… I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “God, I’m an idiot,” she said. “I’d been feeling like shit about the divorce, and then I heard you were back around, and after the barbecue that night I thought it was really a sign that I was doing the right thing, and that maybe you and I would pick up where we left off. Because we were meant to be. I actually thought that when I got home from the barbecue that night. But I’m an idiot. I really am, aren’t I? And not just because of the other night, either. All those times I came down to the prison, hoping you’d come out and see me. Writing you all those letters you never responded to. You should have come out to see me, you know. Because I actually had something to tell you, too. Did you even read the letters I sent?”

I looked down at my boots. “No.” A few people had written while I’d been in, and I hadn’t read or responded to any of them. How could I explain it? I couldn’t, other than I was ashamed about what had happened, and any contact with the outside world just seemed to serve a reminder of what a shitty person I was. Because not only had I killed someone, I had also caused all these other people considerable pain. Carolyn folded her arms across her chest and sniffed. “I didn’t think so,” she said. “Because if you had, I figured you would’ve at least said something when I saw you the first time.” “Said something about what?” “If you’d read the letters, you’d know. Or if you’d come out to see me, even just once, you would’ve known. But you didn’t. So, maybe we should just keep it that way. It’d probably be better.” Her face was twisted in anger, red splotches rising on her cheeks. There were tears in her eyes. “Carolyn,” I said. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m not trying to hurt you, and I realize now that I should have—” “I was pregnant!” she screamed. “I was pregnant and I didn’t know what to do and you were in prison and wouldn’t give me the time of day!” “You were?” I asked dumbly. “Wait, but—” “You didn’t have a condom, remember? No, you probably don’t remember.” “Of course I remember.” “Then you’d recall that you didn’t wear a condom, and I wasn’t on the pill or anything.” “I pulled out, though, I didn’t—”

“Were you not paying attention in health class, Oliver? Don’t be stupid. Do you think I’m lying to you?” “No, of course not.” “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell anyone. All I wanted was to be able to talk to you about it, and you wouldn’t even acknowledge me. So, I got an abortion.” “I’m so sorry, Carolyn.” And I was. I’d had no idea about any of that, and I hated the idea of her having to deal with that all by herself. But even if I had met with her when she’d come to see me, or if I’d read one of the letters, she’d still have had to deal with it on her own. “I wanted to talk to you about it. I wanted to know what you wanted to do,” she said. “Of course, at the time, I was thinking we were still together. I thought you still loved me.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Would you like to know why I’m getting divorced? Because I can’t have children. Because Jeff wants a family, and I can’t give it to him.” “I didn’t think you were supposed to divorce someone just because you couldn’t have kids together.” I realized what a foolish thing this was to say only after the words had left my mouth, and a look of enraged disbelief settled on her face. “What the hell would you know about it?” she asked coldly. “You, who doesn’t even have the decency to respond to your girlfriend after you go to prison. And no, it’s not, but our marriage couldn’t withstand the fucking years of IVF treatments and heartache that I’ve had to endure. I can’t bear waking up each morning next to someone who thinks that I’m a failure.” “You’re not a failure, Carolyn. And since… since you already got pregnant once, couldn’t that mean the issue is with him?” I knew I should really just keep my mouth shut,

that I should stand there and take whatever it was that she wanted to dish out, because I truly did deserve it. But I also hated that look of pain on her face. I hated that it was me who had caused it. “Oh, that’s exactly it!” she exclaimed, clapping her palm to her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it? Why didn’t any of the fertility specialists, who we gave tens of thousands of our dollars to, realize this? That’s completely amazing that after a five-minute conversation you’ve been able to figure out exactly what the problem is.” She shook her head. “You’re such an asshole, Ollie, do you know that? You’re such a fucking asshole. Why am I here taking this fucking walk with you right now, anyway?” I looked back down at the ground again. But she wouldn’t relent. “Really, Ollie, why are we out here? Why did you call me and have me meet you here and take me for a walk? Why?” “I’m sorry,” I said. I raised my head and met her gaze. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. That I was sorry.” “You could’ve just done that over the phone. Or sent a postcard. Or a singing fucking telegram. But the real reason you’re out here is for you. You don’t give a shit how I feel about it—you’re out here because you feel guilty, and you’re trying to somehow mitigate it. Well, guess what? I don’t accept your fucking apology. You don’t get to get off that easily. You broke my fucking heart, and you didn’t even have the decency to do it to my face. And now, all these years later, you’re just trying to make amends to make YOU feel better.” She snarled these last words, and I had the feeling if I’d said anything else, she probably would’ve clawed my eyes out. She turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving me standing there, wondering if she was right, if the real reason I was doing this was just to make myself feel better.

Chapter Eleven Wren “Now, I am a total beginner,” I said to Ollie. “Probably more so than most. I mean, I know that’s the front end and that’s the rear end, but that’s about it. Oh, and to hold your palm flat when you feed them, but I learned that the hard way.” I’d been seven years old, and we’d gone to the county fair, and I made the mistake of holding a slice of apple with my two fingers and trying to feed it to a Shetland pony that I thought was adorable until he chomped down on my fingers along with the apple. “Well, I’d say you’re off to a pretty good start, at least,” Ollie said. He gave the horse, Sweetpea, a pat on the neck. I’d watched as he tacked her up, putting on a woven blanket on her first, then the heavy saddle, which he easily hoisted up as though it were nothing. He told me the part that secured the saddle to her back was called a cinch, though in English riding it was called a girth. “So, this isn’t English riding?” I’d asked. “Nah,” he said. “If it were, the saddle would be a lot smaller, this horn wouldn’t be here—” he patted the front of the saddle where there something that looked to me like a handle or grip of sorts, “—and when you held the reins, you’d be using two hands, not one. I’ve only ridden English a few times, and I personally think it’s easier to learn to ride western. More comfortable, that’s for sure.” He did have a helmet for me to wear, though. I’d been expecting to don a cowboy hat, maybe a pair of fringed chaps, but the only thing he made sure was that I was wearing

boots with a heel and that I had the helmet secured on correctly. “Now, I don’t expect Sweetpea to spook at anything,” he said. “But for at least the first couple rides, I recommend that everyone wear a helmet.” “That’s fine,” I said, knowing I probably looked like a fool in this one, but did that really matter? I was about to get on a horse for the first time, and then I’d really be looking foolish. “So, this here’s the stirrup.” He touched one of the bell-shaped wooden things attached to a leather strap, connected to the saddle. “You always mount and dismount a horse from the left-hand side. Sweetpea could care less which side you did, but some horses get freaked out if you try from the right.” “I’ll try to remember that. How come the left? I’d think it’d be the right.” “It’s tradition, really. Back in the day, when people rode horses into battle, they’d wear their swords on their left, so they had to get on from that side.” “Huh,” I said. “Interesting.” “You’ll stand sideways against Sweetpea like this, put your foot in the stirrup, and then swing yourself up and bring your other leg over her side.” “Um, sure.” I copied how he’d just been standing, grabbing the horn of the saddle, sliding my left foot into the stirrup. “You can hop once or twice to get momentum,” he said. I took two little hops and then tried to jettison myself up into the saddle. I didn’t have nearly enough oomph, though, and for one humiliating second I thought I was going to land right back on the ground in an undignified heap, possibly spraining my ankle in the process. But then I felt Ollie’s hand, right on my lower back—actually, an inch or two lower and it would’ve been my ass—pushing me up, then steadying me, and finally I was

seated there in the saddle. For all the jostling that had just happened, Sweetpea stood there perfectly still. I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. “Good.” Ollie patted my knee. “Now, get right foot into that stirrup, and remember to keep your heels down.” He handed me the reins. “When you ride western, you hold both reins in your right hand. So, when you want the horse to turn, you press the reins to the side of her neck. If you wanted her to go right, for example, you’d move your hand to the right, so the left rein is pressing against the side of her neck, like this.” His hand covered mine, and he pushed it gently to the side, the rein pressing against the side of Sweetpea’s neck. She swiveled her head to the right and started to swing her rear around, taking a few steps. “To get her to stop, just pull back. You don’t have to do it too hard, especially with her.” He made a clucking noise with his tongue. “Now, why don’t you just let her walk. You can cluck at her, or gently squeeze her sides with your legs. She’s got a real smooth gait, so all you really need to do is sit back and get used to the feel.” Sweetpea seemed to have a better idea about all of this than I did. I’d exerted only the tiniest bit of pressure on her sides, and she was already moving out toward the fence. And maybe her gait was smooth as melted chocolate, I didn’t know, but as she took that first step, I lurched forward and grabbed the horn, the front of the saddle, her neck, anything my hands could find. I could only imagine what a trainwreck I must’ve looked like, but Ollie wasn’t laughing at me. Not out loud, at least. It was such a strange sensation, to be atop this animal that was just ambling along. It was different than driving a car or riding a bike, because you were in control. The car or bike did not have a mind of its own. The car or bike was not going to decide to, say, take off at breakneck speed and not slow down until it felt like it. Sweetpea did not seem as

though she’d be up for anything even remotely close to that, but still, I was overcome with the urge to be safely back on the ground. Stop it, I chided. Don’t be afraid of doing this. Children do this. “Just try to relax,” Ollie called, as Sweetpea walked a slow circle around the corral. “Sit up a little straighter, if you can, drop your hands a bit. Yeah, like that. Good.” I’d been hunched over, as if that might offer me some more stability. When I straightened up, though, it felt as though I was sitting deeper in the saddle, my legs more firmly around Sweetpea’s sides. I tried to relax and let my body move with her movements. “You can grab her mane, too,” he said. “I can? I’d be afraid to—I don’t want to pull it too hard.” “You can yank on it as much as you want, and she won’t feel a thing—horses don’t have nerve-endings in their manes.” “Really? I didn’t know that.” I reached down and grabbed a handful of mane and gave it a little tug. Sweetpea didn’t react at all. I tugged a little harder, and still, no response. “Wow,” I said. “That’s really interesting.” I thought back to my childhood, when my own hair had been waist-length, and the crying and screaming that would often end an otherwise perfectly fine day when my mother insisted that we comb the knots out of my hair. No nerve endings certainly would’ve been useful then. I think I got a little used to it, as we walked circles around the corral. I could only imagine how riveting this was for Ollie, but he didn’t look bored, and every so often he’d call out with a suggestion, or, once or twice, a bit of praise. I was good, it seemed, at remembering to keep my heels down. I wasn’t sure how many circles Sweetpea and I walked, but my ass and the inside of

my thighs started to feel chafed. Ollie had me stop her, and then I was able to dismount, remembering to do so from the left side. My legs felt wobbly. “Not bad, Wren,” he said. “Thanks. Certainly not cowgirl caliber, but I’m working on it. Show me what you can do.” He almost looked embarrassed. “Maybe another time,” he said. “Please?” I thought he was going to refuse, but then he nodded and took the reins. He easily swung up into the saddle in one graceful, fluid motion. He clucked at Sweetpea, and she immediately perked up and started walking at a brisk pace, ears pricked forward. She started to jog, then lope, all the while he sat easily in the saddle, like this whole thing was second nature. She sped up a little, then slid to a sudden stop, practically sitting down. Then she turned in a circle, keeping her rear legs in place and moving only her front. He made it look so easy. He rode her back over to the fence. “Sweetpea here used to compete in reining events,” he said. “She’s still got it in her.” He patted her neck, and she bobbed her head. “That was great!” I said. “Makes me wish I could do something like that.” “You can,” Ollie said as he hopped down from the saddle. “Just takes practice.” “I don’t know. I felt pretty uncoordinated up there. You looked so… It just looked so natural for you.” “Well, I’ve been doing it a long time. It’s like cooking for you, I bet. It’s something you’ve done for a while, and you’re accustomed to it. You should see me in the kitchen— it’s a complete disaster.” “Maybe I should give you some cooking lessons some time,” I said. “Cooking has

actually been very therapeutic for me. Sort of like meditating, except not nearly as boring. I tried meditating before, and I didn’t have much luck with it at all.” “You know, I wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two in the kitchen. I might have to take you up on that.” “I’d be more than happy to show you. You can’t be any worse in the kitchen than I just was right now on a horse.” “You really weren’t that bad.” He smiled at me. God, he was handsome. And before I could stop the words coming from my mouth, I was asking him if he wanted to go down to the swimming hole a few miles away, right before you got into town. I was thinking we could do that and maybe get a bite to eat at the restaurant on the way back. “It’s hot enough today to go for a swim,” he said. “I haven’t been swimming in a while.” “Well, let’s do it then.” “I should probably be back by four or so. Got evening chores to do, and then Garrett told me he wanted me to go up to the house tonight, have a talk.” I nodded. “Hmm. Sounds serious,” I said, mostly joking. “I’ll make sure you get back on time.”

Chapter Twelve Ollie It had been a hell of a long time since I’d last been swimming. Not that I hadn’t thought about it, though, especially on those hot days, trapped inside Reynolds, the air thick and pungent with the smell of body odor and piss and spoiled milk. What I wouldn’t have given for the chance to come out to one of these swimming holes where you could stand on a boulder and jump into the cold water, so clear you could see the fish swimming twenty feet below. We drove over in Wren’s Jeep Wrangler, which didn’t have the roof or the doors on. It was a bit unnerving to be sitting there as she sped down the road and to see the asphalt zooming by. “I don’t know about that,” I said, edging my right leg over to the left a little more. Wren was sitting slightly slouched, one hand casually placed on the steering wheel, looking a hell of a lot more at home behind the wheel of the Jeep than she just did up on Sweetpea. “You don’t like it?” she asked. I tried to keep my eyes on the road in front of us, as it seemed somehow better when looking through the windshield. “It’s just kind of weird, I guess. A little freaky, going this fast with the road right there.” “It’s no different than driving around in your truck.”

“I know, it’s just my truck has a door, so I don’t feel like I’m about to fall out.” She smiled. “You’re not the first person to say that, but I think that’s pretty interesting, considering I’m sure you probably wouldn’t think twice about going this fast on a horse, and that’s a whole lot scarier, and there’s no seatbelt, and I, for one, would sure as hell fall off.” Her smile widened. “Or are you saying my driving scares you?” I laughed. “No. Not yet, anyway.” Surprisingly, there were no other cars parked on the soft shoulder of the road when we pulled up. “Looks like we might have the place to ourselves,” Wren said. “Although sometimes people walk in.” She grabbed a few towels from the back seat. We walked in about an eighth of a mile from where we parked. I felt good, excited at the prospect of getting to swim. Except when we got there, there was a slight problem. “I forgot a bathing suit,” I said. “Well, really, I don’t have one.” “That’s okay,” she said, unbuttoning her jeans. “I don’t have one on either; I was just going to go in my underwear.” She pushed the jeans down, revealing slender but well-muscled legs. Her underwear was pink with black stripes and looked like it very well could pass for a bathing suit. “That’s the thing though … I don’t have underwear on. Or boxers or anything.” “Free-balling it?” she asked with a grin. “Errr, yeah.” She shrugged. “Then I guess you’re just going to have to take your pants off.” “I’m not doing that.”

“Why not? There’s no one else here.” “Yeah, but people could show up at any time.” “We’ll leave the towels right here on this rock, so if anyone else shows up, you can just swim over and so long as you get up here fast, you’ll be able to wrap the towel around you before anyone even notices.” “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” “It’s just too nice of a day not to go for a swim.” She had a point. “Do you usually not wear underwear, or was today just laundry day?” she asked. “I usually don’t.” I’d stopped wearing underwear in high school because I hated the feeling of all that fabric down there; briefs were too constricting, but boxer shorts were too baggy and wouldn’t be comfortable when I was riding. Wren looked around. She pulled her shirt off. Her torso was as toned and slender as her legs, and her breasts… Well, I had to look away. She looked too damn good. “In I go!” she said after she’d thrown her shirt over her shoulder. She took a running leap off the rock and dove into the clear water. It did look incredibly refreshing. She resurfaced and bobbed there, watching me. “Come on!” I thought of all the guys back at Reynolds, who not only would give their right arm just for the chance to dive into this water, but who would also give their right nut, too, to have a girl like Wren calling for them to jump in after her. “All right, you’ve convinced me,” I said. I pulled my shirt off and shucked off my pants, then jumped in, feet first.

The cold water swallowed me up, and I let myself plummet before I stopped and started swimming for the surface. I opened my eyes and could see the blurred beams of sunlight shooting through the water. When I broke the surface, Wren was right there. “Hi,” she said. Then she splashed a big wave of water at me and dove away before I could return the favor. I dove after her, but she was fast, and it had been a long time since I’d swam; there was no way I’d be able to catch her. So, I flipped over onto my back and let my arms and legs splay out to the sides and I floated, staring up at the big blue sky. A few seconds later, I could sense that she was right next to me again, and when I turned my head slightly, I saw that she, too, was floating on her back. “Isn’t this nice?” she said. “Much better than riding a horse.” “I don’t know about that, but it is nice. And you did great, by the way. On the horse.” “I find that hard to believe, but thanks.” “This is nice, though,” I said. “I thought about it a lot when I was in—” I stopped, because I hadn’t talked to her about this yet, but it seemed like something maybe I should mention, if we were going to be hanging out. Which was I wasn’t expecting to do, but was hoping might happen again. “You may know already,” I said. “This being a small town and all. Maybe you heard a thing or two about who I am, where I’ve been. If you haven’t, I guess it’d probably be good if you heard it from me first. I was in prison, for seven years. I killed a man.” The water was up around the sides of my face, nearly touching the corners of my mouth, so my ears were submerged and my voice sounded muffled, disembodied, almost like it was someone else talking. Could she even hear me? I turned my head and looked at her. “I did hear something about that,” she said.

“Well, it’s true.” “Funny. Most of that gossip usually isn’t.” “That doesn’t bother you?” “Are you asking if I’m fearing for my life right now?” “No, I just… I don’t know. I think some people might have second thoughts about hanging out with someone who’d been to prison.” “No one’s perfect,” she said. I thought she was going to continue, but she didn’t. She seemed content to leave it at that, and, if she was, then I guess I could be, too. I made it back in time for the evening chores, and once the horses had been watered and grained, I made my way up to the main house. I was curious as to what Garrett wanted to talk about, though that curiosity waned when I saw that Jacob and Keith were there too. We all sat the dining room table, and I could tell by the expression on Keith and Jacob’s faces that they didn’t know why they were here, either. We all looked expectantly at Garrett. “Now, there’s a reason I wanted us all to get together again,” Garrett said. He threw a stern look in Keith and Jacob’s direction. “And it’s not because the last meal we had together went so well.” I sat there, wracking my brain as to why Garrett had invited us all up here again. Last time had been so excruciating, I about wished I was back at Reynolds. “We want to first start by saying that we’re not trying to create any conflict here,” Marie said. Garrett nodded. “That’s right. And this is probably a ways off, anyway, but it’s the

sort of thing that everyone will need some time to think about.” “I’m not so sure I like the sound of this,” Keith said. Jacob remained silent, though he kept looking over at me as though I had some knowledge about whatever it was Garrett was going to say. “Well, why don’t you have a listen first, and then you can decide how you feel about it,” Garrett said. He cleared his throat. “Marie and I aren’t getting any younger,” he began. “And while we both love what we do here, we’re getting to the point in life where we’d also like to go out into the world and see what else is out there.” “You’re selling the ranch,” Keith said, visibly perking up. “That’s understandable.” “No.” Garrett shook his head. “We’re not selling the ranch, at least not right now. We’ve looked into buying a condo in Florida, though, and I think we’ve found one we’re going to purchase.” “Florida?” Jacob wrinkled his nose. “Are you serious?” “I have an aunt who lives in Naples,” Marie said. “I spent a lot of time there in my childhood, and I always hoped to go back. Not year-round, of course.” “So, you’re making Dad move,” Keith said, sounding like the petulant teenager he must’ve been. I looked down at the worn wooden tabletop and let my eyes fall shut. I took slow, deep breaths, and imagined that I was falling through an endless black hole. I’d started doing this at Reynolds, sometimes to simply pass the time, others to block out the chaos. The talking at the table continued around me, and though I could hear it, I was simultaneously able to tune it out and not truly hear what they were saying. There was a lot of back and forth. And then one sentence jerked me out of fall. “If he’d like, Ollie is going to take things over.”

My eyes flew open. “What?” I said. Keith snorted. “What were you doing—falling asleep over there? For Christ’s sake.” “We’d like you to run things for us,” Garrett said. “With the idea that you’d eventually take over the place—” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jacob shouted. “Yeah, this has to be a joke, right?” Keith chimed in. They were both glaring at me as though I’d orchestrated the whole thing. “What?” I repeated. “You’re telling us that you’re just going to hand over the reins to some ex-con to run the place for you? Do I need to tell you what a horrible idea that is?” Jacob said. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And you can tell me it’s a horrible idea all you want, but it’s not up to you to decide, I’m afraid.” Garrett looked at me. “I know this probably seems like a lot. And it’s something Marie and I would like you to think about— you don’t have to give us an answer yet.” “You want me to run this place for you guys?” I asked, still not believing what he was saying. “It’s clear to anyone who sees you that you’re in your natural element here,” Garrett said. “Now, if you told me you didn’t want to because you wanted to move to the city and live the metropolitan life, I might not agree with it, but it’s your choice, and of course I wouldn’t stop you. But if you’re happy being on a ranch, then why not take things over for me here? Believe it or not, out of all my employees, you’ve worked here the longest.” “Minus the seven years he was imprisoned, of course,” Jacob said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m just having a hard time believing any of this. Are you suffering from some sort of early-onset dementia, Dad? Is that what this

is? Do you even realize what you’re saying?” “I realize exactly what I’m saying,” Garrett snapped, a hard edge in his voice. “Which is why we had all three of you here at the same time—so I could assure you that this decision was made while I was sound of mind. Also to give the two of you some time to digest the idea because I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy pill for either of you to swallow.” “But what if he doesn’t want to do it?” Keith asked. I might as well have not even been in the room. “Then what?” “Then we’ll address that if we have to. As much as I’d like to say this ranch is going to stay in the family and be something that gets passed down through the generations, it’s difficult to promise that when the two of you show so little interest.” “And we’re not just going to be gone forever,” Marie said. “We want to scale back, is all. I’m personally getting tired of the snow, the long winters. But we need someone to look after the ranch, and then maybe we’ll come back for part of the summer, because I really can’t bear the thought of not seeing some of our regular guests ever again.” “That’s all well and good,” Jacob said, “except for the part where you’re leaving it in the hands of…you.” He looked at me now, looked at me as though I were no better than a pile of manure that happened to be in his way. I knew what they wanted—they wanted to hear that Garrett and Marie were going to fly south for the winter and leave the ranch for them to do what they’d like with, whether that be sell to developers or sell to someone else who’d be interested in keeping the guest ranch going. They’d take their cut of the money and be done with it. “It sounds like your mind’s made up, so I don’t really see why you brought us here,” Keith said, standing up from the table. “You want us to give us your blessing? It’s a bad idea, if you ask me. Anyway, I’m going to hit the road. Let me know if you change your

mind about the whole thing.” Jacob stood, too. “You’re making a big mistake, Dad,” he said, before he followed his brother out of the room. And then it was just the three of us sitting there. “They left before I could offer pie,” Marie said. “I know no one’s had their supper yet, but I’ve got that nice peach pie just sitting out there on the counter. I’m going to go slice it.” While she was out in the kitchen, Garrett gave me a smile. “I didn’t mean for that to come as a big shock,” he said. “It might’ve been better to pull you aside and give you some warning, but it’s been something I’ve been thinking about for some time now.” “You were thinking about this while I was in prison?” “Sure was. I figured if it was something you might be interested in, you’d accept my offer when I said you could have your old job back.” I bit my lip. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me, Garrett.” “I told you, you’re like a son to me. Some days, you feel more like a son than those two.” He jerked his head back toward the doorway Keith and Jacob had disappeared through. “Those two have never had any interest in anything to do with this place, unless they thought it was me talking about selling and then the only thing they’d want to know is how much they were gonna get. They don’t have an appreciation for the land, for the animals, for the hard work it takes to run a place like this. And that’s okay—this sort of life isn’t for everyone. But it’s in your blood, I’ve always known that, and if what I just said is something you’d be interested in, I’d be more than happy to let you take this place over. Now, Marie and I would still own it, and should the time come to sell, we’d make sure you got a cut, but I don’t want to shut it down. Also, I can’t keep doing what I’m doing, much as I hate to admit it. Age is the one thing none of us can escape.”

It seemed too good to be true, and because of that, I was wary. Not that I didn’t trust Garrett, or believe he only had the best intentions. But I certainly hadn’t been expecting any of this once I got released, and the fact that it was happening was still hard to believe. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said. “And you know there’s no way in hell I’m going to move to the city and live some urban life. But…I just don’t know if me taking this place over is such a good idea.” “And why’s that?” “Because…” Because a part of me felt like everything that Keith and Jacob were saying was true. That someone who had killed a man, who’d just gotten out of prison, shouldn’t be running a guest ranch, didn’t deserve anything even close to that. I had not expected a good life once I got out, not in the least. I imagined I’d have to get a job at a gas station, maybe the overnight shift at the twenty-four-hour place right off the highway, except I’d heard horror stories about how difficult it was to get hired anywhere if you were a felon. “Because I don’t deserve it,” I finally said. “People all make mistakes.” Garrett glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, where I could hear Marie opening and closing cupboards. “I’ve made a few myself,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “You ever kill anyone?” “No, but I came close.” “What happened?” “I almost beat a man to death.” “You did?” “I sure did. Probably would have if the sheriff hadn’t shown up.” “Who was it?”

“Marie’s ex-husband. He was a violent drunk, and he’d been controlling and abusive toward her when they were married, hence why they were no longer married. But a person like that doesn’t like to relinquish control, and he’d come over one night and tried get her to go back home with him. I was down at the barn but came up to the house because I heard some commotion. He was trying to drag her down the porch steps by her hair.” Garrett shook his head. “I about beat his head into a bloody pulp. So, I understand how it is a person like yourself could do what you did. You’re not violent by nature. You’re not mean-spirited. You don’t go out looking to pick a fight. But things happen sometimes, beyond our control, we find ourselves in situations that we didn’t plan on. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, or that you don’t deserve a second chance.” Marie came back, carrying two small plates with slices of peach pie and whipped cream. She set one plate down in front of me and the other in front of Garrett, her gaze going from him to me, then back again. “The air feels mighty thick in here,” she said. “What are you two talking about?” “Nothing,” Garrett said, picking up his fork. “Just telling Ollie here that just about everyone deserves a second chance.” She nodded emphatically. “Please don’t listen to Jacob and Keith,” she said. “They’ve always had a hard time getting used to a new idea that wasn’t their own, and they’ve never adapted well to change. But Garrett and I both know how much you love this ranch and how well it would do if you decide you want to run it for us. We have all the confidence in the world in you.” And it felt sincere, like this wasn’t just something they were saying to be kind. Obviously not, if they were really serious about letting me take over the ranch for them

some day. That was a big deal, and even with the two of them sitting there telling me straight to my face they wanted me to do it, it was still hard to believe.

Chapter Thirteen Wren For the first time, I found myself at work, eager to not be there. I was going back over to the ranch once we were done here for the day, and I was going to try riding Sweetpea again. I was sort of looking forward to that, but mostly I was looking forward to seeing Ollie. The rush from lunch had just slowed down when Paula Kelly walked in. She was wearing her usual zany outfit, this time, a bright floral skirt that looked like she had made it herself, with a sleeveless hot pink blouse. She didn’t come in often, but you could always expect her to be wearing some eye-catching, eccentric sort of outfit. She made her way over to the counter and sat down. “Hi there, Paula,” I said. “Let me just get this order out, and I’ll get you some coffee.” I carried the three plates I had over to the corner table and served them to the three people on vacation from Seattle. “Let me know if you need anything else,” I said as they tucked in to their meals. “How’ve you been?” I asked Paula. She was someone I’d always found interesting; she generally kept to herself whenever she came into the restaurant, and she didn’t come in often enough for me to think of her as a regular, but she had been coming by once every couple of months for years now. “Can’t complain,” she said as I poured her coffee. “Well, actually, I can. I’m looking for someone. Was thinking maybe someone down here could help me out. I don’t have his phone number. Actually, I don’t even know if he has a phone.”

“Who are you looking for?” “His name’s Ollie.” She let out a cackle. “Same as this place here. Funny, isn’t it? We came here once, and I said that to him: Isn’t it funny you and this place got the same name?” I tried to keep my face neutral. “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I know him. Oliver, Ollie. It is funny, isn’t it? Ollie’s a good name though. For a restaurant or a guy.” “Or a skateboard trick,” she said. “Huh?” “A skateboard trick. I was watching this show on TV last night, and someone was riding a skateboard, and they did this jump thing and it was called an ollie. And that got me to thinking about the other Ollie, and how I hadn’t seen him. He’s supposed to check in on me, you know.” No, I did not know that. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. Except it’s been a while since I last saw him, so now here I am, coming out and looking for him, like it’s the other way around. Funny how that happens.” “Interesting,” I said. “Well, I actually do happen to know who you’re talking about.” She raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her coffee. “Do you now?” “Yeah. He comes in here sometimes.” “I was thinking I might even run into him.” “Would you like me to pass a message along?” Paula put down her coffee cup. “You know him that good, do ya? Know that you’re going to be seeing him again?” I decided not to mention that I’d be heading over there in less than an hour. “Uh…

well… I see a lot of people here. And I’m here all the time.” “Not all the time. You weren’t here that one day I came here with him.” “No, I guess I wasn’t. I probably would have remembered that.” “Yes, well, you just be sure to remember to tell him that I’m looking for him.” She shot me a look that said she didn’t really have that much faith in that happening. When I got to the ranch later, I found Ollie down at the barn, grooming Sweetpea. He handed me one of the brushes, and I started brushing her other side. “I ran into a friend of yours this afternoon,” I said. “I have a friend?” “Apparently. Paula Kelly?” There was a moment of silence, and I couldn’t see his expression because he was on the other side of the horse. “Oh. Yeah, I’m supposed to look in on Paula every once in a while. Guess I need to do that pretty soon.” “She mentioned something about that. She made it sound like she was a house plant or a pet or something, that needed checking.” “It’s kind of like that,” Ollie said. “I knew her husband. He’s in prison, too. Was there when I got in, and he’ll be there probably for the rest of his life.” “Whoa.” I stopped brushing Sweetpea and went around to her other side so I could see Ollie. “Really?” “He killed two kids. Well, two teenagers. They were breaking into his truck.” “How did I not know this?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It happened a while ago, though. And it’s probably not something that Paula’s too keen on talking about. You know, same as me not wanting to go around discussing what I did with everybody I happen to come across.” But that’s different, I thought. Unless Paula’s husband had come across two kids trying to sexually assault someone? “He shot them in the back,” Ollie said, as though he could read my mind. “He beat the shit out of them and then shot them in the back as they were trying to escape, which is why he’ll likely never get out. He should have just let them go. But that’s like saying I should have stopped hitting Isaac Wentworth, or not even hit him in the first place.” Ollie had stopped brushing Sweetpea too and had a faraway expression on his face, as though he were re-living that moment, replaying what things might have been like if he had stopped hitting him, or maybe if he’d just kept walking to his truck and didn’t even bother to intervene. “I know he had a twin brother,” Ollie said. “Elijah. I went to high school with the both of them, but we were never friends. Still, I saw them on a regular basis. I’ve thought about trying to get in touch with him, to tell him I was sorry, but… I never have.” “Yeah,” I said. “He moved away, to California, or maybe Oregon, I think.” “I don’t think he’d want to hear from me, which is part of the reason why I haven’t bothered. It’d make me feel better to apologize, but it probably wouldn’t do anything for him, so I haven’t pursued it.” I had wondered about the twin brother, too. Had they been close? Had losing Isaac been like losing a limb or something? “Were he and his brother close?” I asked. Ollie nodded. “It seemed like it. There was this group of them in school, they pretty

much kept to themselves. They were kind of the alternative kids. The ‘alterna-teens’ some of the kids called them, making fun of them. I never did, but I never stopped the other kids who used to, either. I’ve thought about that, though. How it must’ve been for the twin brother. The whole situation just sucked. For everyone.” “Yeah,” I said. “It really did.” I did better the second time around; I even managed to coax Sweetpea into a jog, during which I gripped the saddle horn for dear life but managed to stay on. I’d felt good, exhilarated, even, and when I jumped down, I asked Ollie if he wanted to come over to my place later when he was done with the evening chores. To my surprise, he said yes. I’d planned on making a dinner, but I got sidetracked trying to get the place cleaned up. When he knocked on the door, I was fighting to get the vacuum to release the corner of rug it had just sucked up. “Oh, hey,” I said. “Just give me a minute—” “I hope you’re not doing this on my behalf,” he said. He nodded at the vacuum. “Taking part in mortal combat with household appliances, I mean.” He switched the vacuum off, and I was able to pull the rug out easily. “Gee,” I said. “Why didn’t I think of that? Obviously, I don’t use the thing too often.” I threw the vacuum down and stood up. He looked so good standing there, in his dark jeans, cowboy boots, and light gray work shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. I walked right over to him and pulled his face down to mine, starting to kiss him. “I don’t think I can do this,” he said after a few seconds. “It’s not because I don’t want to.” We had stopped kissing, but he didn’t pull away completely; we were still close

enough that the tips of our noses were touching. “We don’t have to,” I said. “We can stop.” “I don’t want to,” he said again. “But… maybe we should.” I nodded, and I would have stopped, except he didn’t move his face away from mine; he kept it there, so close that I could feel his breath, feel the heat radiating off of his skin. I pressed my lips against his again, gently, telling myself that if he pulled away again, I would get up, I would stop. But he didn’t pull away. I felt him kiss me back, tentatively, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and opened my eyes, just a little. His own eyes were closed, lashes dark against his skin. I slipped my hands underneath his shirt and ran my fingertips over the dense muscles and smooth skin. I felt his hands, first on my shoulders, then running down my arms, then back up again. His hands were warm and dry, his fingers assured as they pressed gently against my skin. We kept kissing, and then I pulled back for a second so I could take my shirt off. “Follow me,” I said, leading him into my bedroom. As we walked, I reached around and unhooked my bra, then shimmied out of the yoga pants I’d put on. I turned to face him and watched his face, the way his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Let’s get that shirt off of you,” I said. “And the rest of the stuff, too.” His fingers fumbled with the buttons, so I helped. His arms were covered in tattoos, but his torso was smooth, a perfect plane of long, lean muscles. I ran my fingertips across his abdomen and felt the muscles tense under my touch. His hands were on my shoulders, but started to move down slowly toward my breasts. I kissed him, and this time he returned the kiss with force. His hands massaged my breasts in a quietly assured way, as

though he knew what he was doing felt good. His cock was hard and pressed against me, clamoring for attention. I licked the palm of my hand and then wrapped it around his cock. I slid it up and down over and over, felt him get bigger and harder, and then I let go and reached down, cupped his balls and gave them a squeeze. He groaned softly against my ear, and I nudged him back onto the bed. I was on birth control, and I’d just been tested for STDs last month and gotten a clean bill of health. I would have told him that if he asked, but he didn’t, and I lowered my hips slowly onto him, one hand on his chest to help keep my balance. He inhaled sharply as his cock slid all the way in, and his eyes squeezed shut. I sat there for a moment, enjoying how he felt inside of me, rocking my hips a little, but not really moving. I, too, let my eyes fall closed and breathed slowly, feeling the way he fit perfectly inside of me. It didn’t always feel like this. Sex mostly always felt good, but some guys felt better than others. I began to move, at first just swinging my pelvis back and forth, then side to side. Some people say the G-spot’s a myth, but that’s just because they’ve never been able to find it before. When I moved my hips back, the head of his cock hit it just in the right spot, and if I squeezed my pelvic floor muscles right as it happened, the most incredible feeling radiated through my entire body. It was a tingling electricity, a current that could only be activated by a particular movement, in a particular place. Ollie’s eyes flew open. “What was that?” he asked. “What’s that thing you’re doing?” I continued to rock and squeeze and let myself be carried away on that current of pleasure. “Oh, just exercising my pelvic floor muscles,” I said. “Also known as Kegels.” “Whatever it is, don’t stop. I think that might be the best feeling I’ve ever felt.” I smiled. “You feel pretty good yourself, there.”

And so I kept moving my hips and getting his cock pressed right up against that spot inside of me, squeezing my muscles around him. Suddenly, though, he grabbed my hips. “Whoa,” he said. “Slow down. No, stop. Just, hold still. Right there. Don’t move.” He took several deep breaths, trying to regain control before he reached that point of no return. I held perfectly still, knowing that even the slightest movement at this point could send him over the edge. After almost a minute, he exhaled loudly and then used his hands, which he’d kept on my hips, to get me moving again. I went slowly at first, thinking that maybe I’d torture him—just a little—but it just started to feel too good. And the faster I went, the better it felt, this feeling that seemed to originate from my very core and then expand outward. It was as if my whole body was turning to warm honey, melting into him. His grip tightened on my hips, his jaw clenched, little moaning sounds escaped from both of our mouths. My whole body tensed, and my muscles clenched around him as we both came—the first time I had ever simultaneously climaxed with someone. We lay there for a while. I was starting to drift off to sleep when I felt him moving next to me. I opened my eyes all the way. “I’d love to stay,” he said, “but I’ve got to be up real early tomorrow morning to have the horses ready and everything.” “I understand,” I said, though I was feeling, for probably the first time, disappointed that a guy wasn’t going to stay longer. “Trust me—I’d be more than happy to just stay in this bed until the sun rises and then do that all over again.” He pushed himself up, and I watched, transfixed at the smooth muscles in his torso. We kissed again before he left, and I walked him to the door, where I stood and

watched until he drove away. After he left, I didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep for a while, but I felt drowsy and went back to bed, snuggling up with the pillow his head had just been lying on. What the hell was wrong with me? I was usually more than happy to have my own bed all to myself, but I felt an intense longing for him, despite the fact he hadn’t been gone even half an hour yet. I yawned, and hugged the pillow close as I fell asleep. It’s the same guy with the blurred-out face and I the fear flares inside of me as he approaches. There’s nowhere to run, and I know that even if there was, I wouldn’t be able to outrun him. Still, I tell him to stop, to stay away. He’s about twenty feet away, and then all of a sudden, he’s right there in front of me, as though he were able to move at super speed. His hands are around my neck, and that same feeling of helplessness washes over me. But I still try to move, and to my surprise, it works. My hands actually grab his wrists, and though I can’t get them to budge, my fingernails dig into his flesh. I lash out with my leg, catching him right in the groin, one of the few areas of the body that you can’t condition, and therefore, are always vulnerable to attack. He doubles over instantly, releasing my neck and falling back. I stand over him, knowing how easy it would be to just stomp on his face. Before I can do anything, though, the blur that was covering his face envelopes his entire body and then he disappears. Gone, like he was an image on a screen that someone just turned off. I woke up still curled up with the pillow. Someone was knocking at the door. I pushed the sheet back and slipped out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, the dream lingering with me as I walked out of the bedroom.

“Just a second,” I said as I went down the hallway. It was Allison, carrying a carafe of coffee. “I’m coming in,” she said. In she came, and she set the coffee down on the table and got two mugs from the cupboard. “Nigel took the kids to their swimming lessons, so I’ve got the morning free. Well, I’m supposed to be cleaning the refrigerator out, but that can wait. I’d honestly rather pluck my eyebrows out with tweezers than deal with that refrigerator.” “That sounds pleasant.” I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand. “Thanks for bringing coffee, though.” “Well, I happened to be up last night putting Emma back to bed, and I looked out the window and saw a man leaving the house. What were you doing last night? Rather, who were you doing? And, please don’t scoff at how pathetic this sounds, but I seriously need some excitement in my life. Remember that weekend that Nigel’s mom took the kids? That we were supposed to have date night?” I nodded as I took a sip of the coffee. “I remember.” “Yes, well, the evening culminated with sex—which he initiated—and I fell asleep. I fucking fell asleep. Was it because I was tired? No. Or not tired enough to fall asleep, who am I kidding, I’m always tired, but the reason I fell asleep was because it was the same old shit it’s always been! Good old missionary position. Which means me lying down with my head on my pillow. Who can blame me for falling asleep?” “Why didn’t you just climb on top of him? Ride him like a cowgirl. That’s what I did.” Allison smiled. “I’m no cowgirl.” “I’m not either.”

“Oh, yes you are. You might not ride horses, but you certainly ride plenty of other things. And Nigel’s so all about doing it missionary because he thinks he got me to squirt once when I came. It was actually pee, because my bladder control is completely shot since having kids, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him because he was so proud of himself. I mean, can’t guys tell the difference?” I laughed. “Are you honestly asking me that question? Most guys don’t even know what a clit is.” Allison sighed. “You’re right. Anyway, since that whole thing happened, he’s been determined to try to get it to happen again, but seems to think it can only happen if we do it in that same position.” “Just pee on him again. Hop on him and pee, and then he’ll think it’s only that position.” “Yeah, except I can’t now, for some reason. It’s like I’m getting stage fright or something. Or I just can’t pee on command. I also don’t want to pee on my husband; I’m not into that sort of thing.” “Some people are.” “Yeah, well, not me. I’m not proud of the fact that I can’t even sneeze without peeing myself a little.” “Kegels,” I said. “What?” “Do Kegels, and you won’t have that problem anymore.” “I don’t even know what Kegels are.” “You could ask Ollie,” I said with a grin.

Her eyes widened. “You slept with him? That was him leaving here last night? How was it? I thought you said you weren’t attracted to him like that!” “I didn’t think I was,” I said, which wasn’t totally true. If I’d been honest with myself, I probably was attracted to him the moment he walked through the restaurant door and sat down at the counter, but after realizing who he was, I’d tried to deny those feelings. “And besides, he liked it.” I smiled, thinking back to that expression on his face. “He liked it a lot.” “Oh, I bet he did. But don’t try to kid yourself that you were just ‘doing it for him.’ This wasn’t a mercy fuck.” “I’m not saying it was! No one as hot as he is would ever need a mercy fuck.” “So, what now?” I knew why she was asking. In the past, every guy I’d ever slept with was immediately discarded of after that first night together. There had been no repeats. I probably deserved the reputation that I might have had around town, except I didn’t see it as a bad thing, because I was in control of it. This wasn’t me going out and sleeping with guys for the attention, for a self-esteem boost. It had, in fact, happened a few times that I’d been rebuffed, and I hadn’t felt a thing. “We’re just going to have to see how it goes,” I said. “I have an appointment with Dr. Mike later today. I’ll bring it up with him. See what he thinks.” At my appointment with Dr. Mike, I decided to start sitting on the couch, facing him, instead of lying down. “You seem to be in rather high spirits,” Dr. Mike said. I smiled. “I do feel pretty good.” “Any reason in particular?”

“Well… yes. Or no. I don’t know. I slept with someone, and I actually want to see this person again.” Sometimes it felt weird to talk with Dr. Mike about this shit, like he was another of my girlfriends, the way Allison was. But I had a question for him, and I wanted his professional opinion. “Just because I’d originally started hanging out with someone because I felt I needed to make something up to them—and then happened to sleep with them—that doesn’t make it a mercy fuck, does it?” He raised his eyebrows. “A mercy fuck?” “Yeah, where you sleep with someone you might not normally do it with because you feel like you owe it to them.” “Who are we talking about here?” I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling. There was no point in keeping any of this from Dr. Mike, I knew this, yet there was still a part of me that felt like I shouldn’t tell him. “I slept with Ollie.” His expression didn’t change. He made a mark on his notepad, like he was checking a box off or something. I had a sudden urge to reach over and yank the pad away from him and see what was written there. “I slept with Ollie,” I said, “and he didn’t spend the night. He ended up leaving, and I fell asleep and I had a dream. Notice how I’m not calling it a nightmare? It started off like one, but this time, I was actually able to do something about it. Usually I can’t control my limbs no matter how hard I try. This time I was actually able to fight back. That’s got to mean something. Right?” “There’re often multiple interpretations for dreams.” I sighed. “Did you know you rarely ever give me a straightforward answer?” “Is that why you’re here? For me to give you answers?”

“No. But it’d be nice, once in a while, to have that validation.” “I’m curious why you feel you need this validation to begin with.” “Doesn’t everyone want to feel validated at some point? I mean, to feel valid? I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.” I picked at a loose thread on one of the couch pillows. Sometimes Dr. Mike made me feel like I was being completely unreasonable. Or was I just… what did he call it? Projecting? “I’ll be honest with you, Wren. When you first started coming here, it seemed to me that you wanted validation for why you were sleeping with all these different men.” “Okay, but to be fair, you make it sound like I was sleeping with all these guys at the same time. Which I wasn’t.” “Does that matter?” “Um, yeah, it does. I’m not a two-timer.” “Is it possible to cheat on someone if you’re not dating them?” “Well … sort of. I think there are a lot of people out there who wouldn’t even agree to go out on a first date with someone if they thought they were sleeping with someone else.” “I imagine you’re right. Unless it’s just casual dating, most people are hoping for the relationship to be something more—if it all works out.” “Right.” Neither of us said anything for a moment, as if he were waiting for me to have some sort of eureka moment, which wasn’t going to happen. If he was trying to impart some sort of great wisdom on me in the most obtuse way he could, it had failed. “I just feel like it’s different with Ollie,” I said finally. “Different in a way that it hasn’t been with anyone else. But is that because of our history together, or because I honestly feel that way? I mean, if I were to meet him at the restaurant or run into him at a bar one night, would I

still feel this way?” “Now you’re asking questions no one can answer.” “And there is one other thing,” I said. “What would that be?” “I had the chance to tell him who I was. We went swimming, and it was really nice, we were just floating in the water next to each other, and he told me how he’d been in prison. That would’ve been the perfect time for me to tell him that I knew he had, and the reason why I knew he had was because I was partially responsible for him going there. But… I didn’t. Do you think that was stupid?” “First off, you were not partially responsible for him going to prison.” “Well, I certainly feel like I am. And even if I didn’t feel that way, what if he did?” “You can’t control how someone is going to feel about something.” “I know. But I really like him. Something…something is different with him.”



Chapter Fourteen Ollie I’d had a dream that didn’t involve prison. For the first time in a long time, I woke up and didn’t feel like my heart was in my throat, didn’t feel like I was about to jump out of my own skin. The dream was still perfectly clear in my mind, as though it were really an episode of a TV show, playing again on repeat. It had been a perfectly realistic dream, a slice of life that could actually happen. I was somewhere near the ocean. Which meant I was somewhere far from where I was now. I’d never seen the ocean before, had never smelled the salt air or heard the seagulls calling from overhead. Even so, I could remember all that from my dream, plus the way the warm sand felt between my toes, the sound of the waves as they rolled up the beach, then back again. I was on a beach somewhere, in a town where no one knew me. And because I was there and no one knew who I was, there was no guilt, no pitying or angry looks, no one who had any clue about what I’d done or where I’d been. It was a good feeling. In fact, it was a feeling that stayed with me throughout the day, as I tacked up Bebop, when I rode him out to wrangle the other horses into the corral for their morning feed, when I sat in the quiet of the barn later, cleaning the saddles and bridles, when I left the ranch to stop by Paula’s.

“Well now, there you are,” Paula said. She was sitting on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs, sipping on a glass of lemonade. “I was thinking you’d forgotten about me. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you did. Guess Wren gave you the message.” “She did,” I said. “And I didn’t forget about you. I’ve just been busy. Been meaning to get over here, though. How have you been?” She clinked the ice around in her glass. “Same as always. You know, you don’t have to keep coming out here like this. You really don’t.” But I did. “I promised Jackson I would.” “How’s he going to know if you stop?” “Do you not want me to?” Even if she didn’t, I’d still stop by every once in a while. He’d have a way of knowing. And I had given him my word. She shrugged. “I suppose it’s nice to have the company. Even though you’re not here because you actually want to be. That’s the thing that’s kind of bugging me—you’re not out here because you want to be. You’re out here because you made a promise to my husband, and if you stop, you’re afraid something bad’s going to happen.” She snorted. “It won’t, you know. I’m not sure who you think he is, but he’s not a gang member or anything. He doesn’t have all these dangerous connections or nothing.” “I don’t think he does,” I said, though that wasn’t entirely true. In prison, Jackson was one of those men everyone respected. Not just because he was big and strong, but because that’s just how it was. I’d never questioned it, and had assumed it was, in part, because he had connections. “Anyway,” she said, “I don’t actually much feel like talking right now. So, I’m sorry if you feel like you made a trip out here for no reason. If you want to come back some other time, you can, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I really don’t mind,” I said. “Have you seen Jackson?” “Not lately. I’ll probably be taking a trip up there in the next couple weeks. Maybe you should come with me.” “I don’t know if I want to go back there.” “Can’t say I blame you.” I stayed and sat with Paula for a while longer, most of our time spent not even talking. I didn’t mind it though, I really didn’t. When I got up to leave, she smiled, and I could tell that she felt better that I’d stopped by, and I told her I’d come back again soon. When I got back to the ranch, Keith was there, talking with Ryan. I parked the truck and headed down to the barn, but then I heard someone calling my name. I stopped and turned. “Hey, Keith,” I said, waiting for him to catch up. He was red in the face and breathing hard. “You give any more thought to what my father talked to us all about?” he asked. “I’ve been thinking about it a little bit,” I said. “It’s a pretty big decision to make.” “It is.” He squinted at me. “But I figure it’s probably a pretty easy one to come to. Why the hell wouldn’t someone like you take it? It’s practically a gift from god. You get out of prison and get a job offer just like that. Not even a job offer, but the opportunity to take over the whole damn place, if you so choose. Almost kind of suspicious, if you ask me.” “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” I said. “I had no idea your father was going to be there to pick me up. And I certainly didn’t have a clue that he was going to offer taking over the ranch. You think I had something to do with it?” Keith shrugged. “Any reasonable person would. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. And I really didn’t. I tried to consider it from his point of view. Thing was, he’d never shown any interest in the ranch whatsoever. I knew for a fact if he had, Garrett would have included him in his offer. “You don’t know,” Keith repeated. “Well, since you don’t know, let me make it to clear to you. Most everyone around here thinks you’re a piece of shit for what you did, and the only reason word hasn’t spread even further about you is because I don’t want to hurt my father’s business. But trust me when I say you’re nothing more than a waste of space, and my brother and I are going to do what we can to convince our father to change his mind about this whole ridiculous idea of you ever having control of this ranch, which has been in my family for generations. My family, not yours, regardless of what you think.” He didn’t wait for me to respond; he just walked off, though I didn’t know what the hell someone was supposed to say to something like that. What I did know was that I shouldn’t let his words get to me, but they did. I’d planned to work with Ditto some more before I went to go meet up with Wren, but it would be a bad idea to work with a horse like that when I was feeling like this. Maybe in the back of my mind, I’d thought that Keith was right, that the people who knew tolerated me but that was about it.

Chapter Fifteen Wren When Ollie walked through the door, I knew immediately that something was wrong. “Hey,” I said, tossing the rag down that I had just been wiping the counter with. “What’s wrong?” He looked around, seeing if the place was empty. “We’re the only ones here,” I assured him. “Lena just left. Here, I’ll even lock the door.” I came out from behind the counter and went over and locked the door, flipping the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’ “Are you feeling okay? Do you want to postpone our plans? That’s fine, if you do.” “Are you saying that because you don’t want to see me?” “What? No. Of course I want to see you. I’m just giving you an out in case you wanted one, because…well, because you look like shit. No offense.” “I guess I look like shit because I just feel like such fucking shit, about everything,” he said. “No, I feel like I am a huge piece of shit. And it’s an awful way to feel. But all I seem to do is cause pain for other people, if not directly, then certainly indirectly.” I went over to him and wrapped my arms around him. I put my hand on his back, felt the smooth, supple muscles underneath his shirt. “That’s not true at all.” “But it is. You just don’t know the truth of it. Or maybe you do. I mean, I know this is a small town, and I’m sure you’ve heard people talk about what I did. I appreciate you

being so nonjudgmental with me; not everyone’s been like that. I don’t hold it against them.” He took a deep, ragged breath. He sounded completely defeated. “I had this dream the other day, where I was living somewhere else, somewhere completely new where no one had any idea who I was. And it was such a good feeling. It felt so good to be somewhere and not to think that everyone knew about me.” “It was just a dream, though,” I said. “I know it was, but it felt like it was the right thing. It’s hard to explain. I have these dreams sometimes…where I’m back in prison, or I’m not in prison, but I’m trapped somewhere, and sometimes the setting changes, but the feeling never does. It’s that same horrible feeling that I wake up with every time. Except this time was different. It was nice. So, maybe that’s how it would be in real life, too, if I just moved somewhere else.” “You could do something like that,” I said, “but that would make it a lot harder for us to see each other.” “Is it really that big of a deal? I’m sure a girl like you wouldn’t have a hard time finding a guy.” Did I think I could just keep this from him forever? Especially now that we had slept together, and that I was hoping it would be more than just a one-time thing? Of course I needed to tell him. But aside from Allison, and Dr. Mike, I’d told no one this, and I couldn’t help but feel nervous. This wasn’t really about me right now, though— it was about Ollie. If there was anyone to blame for this whole thing, really, it was me. Because if I hadn’t gone out that night, none of it would have happened to begin with. “I have something to tell you,” I said. “Something that I think might make you feel better.” Well, I didn’t know if it would make him feel better. But I could hope.

“What is it?” he asked. I took a deep breath. “It was me,” I said. “I was the girl you saved that night.”

PART THREE

Chapter Sixteen Ollie What had she just said? I blinked, certain I’d heard her wrong. I was the girl you saved that night. I cracked a smile, even though I wasn’t amused. “Ha ha,” I said. “You’re funny.” But Wren wasn’t smiling back; she had a somber, almost sad expression on her face. “It’s not a joke,” she said. “I wouldn’t joke around about something like that. It really was me.” I had thought about her before, the faceless girl who I had seen but hadn’t, whose face I couldn’t recall if my life depended on it. I never imagined that I’d see her again, though I had wondered if she found out what had happened that night, after she managed to get away. What she thought. If she had felt any guilt, which I hoped she did not because my actions were not her fault. And now here was Wren, telling me she was that girl. Was that even possible? Maybe she had read about it in the newspaper or heard it on the news. People did that sort of thing sometimes. Well, a certain type of person. A crazy person seeking fame. Not that she would get much fame from this.

“I’m really sorry to be telling you this now,” she said. “I know how odd it must seem.” “It does,” I managed to say. “It does seem strange that you’re telling me now, instead of, say, when we first met. I mean, that seems like it’d be kind of important.” “I felt like that at first, too. I actually didn’t realize who you were at first, when you came into the restaurant. We’d been talking, and then it dawned on me, and it freaked me out, so I went into the kitchen, but when I came back out you had left.” I thought back, vague recollections of the day surfacing in my mind. She had disappeared abruptly. And then I’d left. “I probably would have told you then, if you were still there. But then again, maybe not because it’s not really something I’d announce to the whole restaurant, you know?” I nodded, still not believing her. “Why are you doing this?” “I’m telling you now because I want you to know that you’re not this shitty person that you seem to think you are. That you shouldn’t go anywhere else, unless you want to, not because you think other people don’t want you around. Because that’s not true. I want you around. And if you hadn’t been around that night, who knows what would have happened.” We were both quiet for a minute. I was waiting for her to say that she was joking, even though it sure as hell wasn’t that funny. And maybe she was waiting for me to say that I believed her. Except I didn’t. “I can tell you still don’t believe me,” she said. “Which I guess is understandable. But I wouldn’t make this up just to mess with you. I wouldn’t. What can I say to make you believe that it was me? It was at the Watering Hole, in the parking lot. He had me up

against a car. I actually don’t remember a whole lot from the night. A lot of it is a blur. And, to be honest, I try not to think about it too often.” She paused and looked at me. “You were wearing a pink shirt. I remember that.” That pink shirt, the one my mother had gotten me for my birthday, that she’d given me before I’d gone out that night. What the hell had happened to that shirt? Not that I’d want it back even if I knew where it was. “You’re right,” I said. “I was wearing that shirt. My mother had given it to me as a birthday present. My eighteenth birthday.” It sounded like a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was, because I was a different person now than that kid who sat with his cancer-stricken mother and blew out candles on a cake she’d labored all day to make. “We were both in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Wren said sadly. “I always wanted to tell you how sorry I was.” “You don’t have to be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She laughed, a bitter sound. “But of course I do! I ruined your life. You spent seven years in prison because of me.” “It wasn’t because of you. Please don’t think that. It really depends on how you look at it. We were both in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe not, because if it hadn’t happened, would we have even met each other?” “I don’t know.” “I don’t, either. And the thing is, the past is in the past; there’s nothing we can do to change it.” She reached over and took my hand. “It means a lot to hear you say that. I don’t know if I’d be able to be as gracious if it were me in your position. I’d probably be pissed. I mean, I am pissed—at myself, mostly, for getting into that situation to begin with.”

“It’s not like you wanted to. And I was able to help. I do wish that he hadn’t died. I was never planning on that.” “I know you weren’t. Which is partly why I’ve always felt so guilty about it. You just went out that night, minding your own business, not planning on any of that shit happening.” I squeezed her hand. “Listen,” I said. “I want you to stop thinking like that. I did what I did, and honestly, I’d pretty much do the same thing all over again. I wouldn’t hit him so many times, and he wouldn’t have died, but that’s about the only thing I’d change. He was trying to do something to you that he shouldn’t have.” “Well, I do appreciate you saying that.” “It’s ‘cause I mean it. And you know what?” I asked. “You did make me feel better. Thank you.”

Chapter Seventeen Wren A food critic coming into the restaurant wasn’t what it once used to be. Sites like Yelp let everyone be a critic, qualified or not. And besides, we always strived to provide the best food and service, regardless of who it was sitting at the tables. But there was a rumor floating around that one of the writers from the Food Network Magazine was doing an article on diners, specifically small-town diners and how we were a dying breed. Word on the street was he was in our state, stationed in Boulder but venturing out on day trips to visit these small-towns and their diners. “I think we have just as good a shot as any at being included,” Lena said. She fluffed her hair. “Do you think they’ll take pictures?” “Maybe,” I said, though I couldn’t be quite as optimistic as she was. We had a website, which I’d kind of let go to the leeway; in fact, if you were to go on our site, it would be difficult to ascertain whether or not the restaurant was still open. But maybe the writer had other ways he or she would decide on what places to visit. If it was through word-of-mouth, then we stood a pretty good chance. We also had a decent number of five-star reviews on Yelp, so maybe the writer would check that site out, too. If it didn’t happen at all, though, I wouldn’t be too upset; I didn’t particularly like the idea of someone coming in and judging us solely for the basis of an article. I shouldn’t have worried though, because he came right up to me and introduced himself. He had curly, sandy-colored hair, a goatee, and black-rimmed glasses. “My

name’s Hunter,” he said, “and I’m doing a story about diners across America. I’ve heard good things about this place. I was told you’re the owner?” “That’s me.” I held out my hand and we shook. “Wren Davis.” “Great to meet you Wren. So—I’m famished. What do you recommend?” We sat at one of the empty booths, and he looked over the menu, while I extolled the excellence of the blueberry buttermilk pancakes, the chef salad, and the bacon cheeseburger on the honey-wheat bun. When he finally made his decision, Lena took his order, and then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Mind if I record our conversation?” he asked. “Go right ahead.” “Okay. Great.” He tapped at the screen and set the phone down, then started asking me general questions about the place: How long we’d been here, what the customers were like, what I envisioned for the restaurant’s future. I was just about to say that I hoped the restaurant would be around for a long time, and that I’d be working here with my future grandchildren, when the door opened and Ollie walked in. I waved from across the room, and he ambled over and sat down next to me. “Hey,” he said, as I leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. Hunter smiled; I could tell he was pleased that a real authentic cowboy had just strolled in out of nowhere and sat himself down with us. “Hey,” I said. “Ollie, this is Hunter, from Food Network Magazine. And Hunter, this is Ollie. My boyfriend.” I glanced over at Ollie’s face to see what his reaction would be; we hadn’t had the discussion yet as to what our official status would be, but if he wanted, I’d be more than

happy to be his girlfriend. “Hey, nice to meet you,” Hunter said. “Glad you could join us—Wren was just filling me in about this place. Now, Ollie—” He glanced down at one of the menus, and then looked up at me. “So, is this name a coincidence, or did you name your restaurant after your boyfriend?” Ollie and I exchanged looks. Hunter raised his eyebrows. “I sense an interesting story,” he said. “Can I tell him?” I asked. Ollie nodded. “Go ahead.” “Now I’m really curious.” Hunter leaned forward onto his forearms. “Well, I did name the place after Ollie. Except… we didn’t really know each other back then, when we first opened,” I started. “And I should mention, that some of what I’m about to tell you isn’t common knowledge.” “I’m all ears,” Hunter said. He really did look as though he couldn’t wait to hear what it was I had to say next. “I named this place after Ollie because he basically saved my life one night. Well, maybe not saved my life, exactly, but definitely saved me from having to go through what probably would have turned out to be a pretty shitty situation.” Hunter nodded. “Okay…” “I had just moved up here and had gone out to this bar one night, met a couple guys, went out with one of them into the parking lot. He tried to take advantage of me, but then Ollie was leaving, and he ended up intervening. I ran off. The guy was not so lucky.” “What happened?”

There was a pause, because I didn’t know whether or not I should answer. “I killed him,” Ollie said. Other than a slight jump of his eyebrows, Hunter did not react. “I didn’t mean to. I should have stopped hitting him before I did, though. I ended up serving seven years in prison for it.” “Basically, I named the place after him even though he had no idea who I was. Most people still don’t know that it was me that night.” “And now you two are together,” Hunter said slowly. “Wow. That is quite a story. Tell me more.” We spent the next two hours talking, both of us filling in Hunter with details about what our lives had been like over the years and what they were like now. It felt good to talk about it, to get it all out of there. Hunter stayed for about an hour and a half, and then he had to go because there were other diners to visit. “I’ve got your contact info, so I will most definitely be in touch,” he said. “Thanks so much for everything.” After he left, Ollie and I stayed in the booth, and he ate a turkey club. Lena sat down across from us. “So, how’d it go?” she asked. “I think he seemed impressed with the place! He looked like he was enjoying himself.” “I think it went pretty well,” I said. Ollie nodded. “Yeah. He obviously liked the food—he ate everything on the plate.” “Well that’s good.” Lena nodded. “I was surprised he was here for so long! I figured it would be a quick sort of thing.”

“We ended up talking for a little while,” I said. “That’s good too. You’re establishing rapport. So, how’d you leave it?” “He said he’d be in touch.” “That sounds promising.” Lena got up from the booth. “I’m sure he’s going around to tons of different places, but I think it would just be the neatest thing if we were in a magazine!” And I had to agree, especially a big magazine like that. “Did we just tell that guy everything about ourselves?” Ollie asked after Lena had got up from the booth. “I think we did. That wasn’t my plan—it just sort of happened.” “And did you refer to me as your boyfriend?” “Errrr, yeah. That just sort of happened, too.” “I’ll say.” He nodded slowly, but he had a smile on his face. “Can’t say I mind that too much at all.” After the breakfast rush was over the next day, I made myself an iced coffee and was eyeing the last blueberry muffin left in the case when I heard my phone ringing and vibrating from inside my purse. I took a big swig of coffee and retrieved it, just missing the call. There were several missed calls from that same number, one which I didn’t recognize. I called the number back, and a familiar-sounding voice answered. “Hi Wren!” “Hi! Um, who is this?” “It’s Hunter.”

“Oh!” I said. “Hi! How’s it going?” “Good. So, there’s something I wanted to run by you. My ex-girlfriend, Sarah, is an editor at Woman’s Day and the feature article she was planning to run next issue fell through. The writer had a family emergency and isn’t going to be able to turn the article in on time. So…I went ahead and pitched Sarah this idea I had, and she loved it.” “That’s great,” I said, even though I wasn’t quite sure why he had called me up to tell me this. “The idea I pitched was about you. Well—a feature article about you and Ollie. Not just about your restaurant, but about the two of you, and how this all came to be. Because I’ve been thinking about all the stuff you guys told me, and it’s got a lot of appeal, and when I told Sarah, she thinks it’d be the perfect human interest story for the magazine. People want to read something like that, something where someone made a mistake but was able to find redemption. What do you think of that?” “Wow,” I said. “Really? I think that sounds pretty cool, actually! Totally not what I was expecting to hear you say. I’ll have to ask Ollie, though.” “Of course. Why don’t you do that and get back to me as soon as you can—if he’s cool with it, I’d like to get started writing this up.” “Will you need to interview us anymore?” “You know, I recorded everything that we talked about yesterday, so I think that’s probably more than enough material to go off of. I would like to come back out there with Jill, my photographer, and have her take some pictures of the two of you at the restaurant, maybe at the ranch where Ollie works. That’s not too far, is it?” “No, it’s not far at all.” “Great. Run it by him, and then get back to me, okay?”

“Sure! I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” I knew Ollie would be working, so instead of calling, I hopped into the Jeep and drove over to the ranch. I had an appointment with Dr. Mike in a little while, but I figured I could swing by here first and run the idea by Ollie. I didn’t want to keep Hunter waiting. I found Ollie in the corral with Ditto, and while the horse wasn’t within arm’s reach, he was closer than I’d ever seen. Ollie turned slowly away and came over to the fence. “Hey,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He smiled and leaned over the top of the fence and gave me a kiss. “I won’t stay long,” I said, “I know you’re busy. But there’s something exciting that I wanted to run by you. So, Hunter called me and said that he’d like to write a feature article about us.” “Oh, yeah? What about the other diners he’s gone to? Or was he that impressed with your place that he thinks it’s just going to eclipse anywhere else? True statement, by the way.” “I think he’s still going to do that article. No, this is for a different magazine, Woman’s Day.” “Never heard of it.” “I’ve seen it in line at the supermarket checkout. I’ve never actually read it, but it’s pretty popular. It’s a national magazine.” He cracked a dry smile. “So, we’d be famous?” “No. Well, maybe a little. I don’t know. But he said our story has real appeal. How did he put it? That it was a real human interest story.” “I think I know what you’d like to do.”

“I told him I wouldn’t say yes or no until I talked to you first. How do you feel about it?” He turned and leaned his back against the fence. I slipped my arm under the railing and slid it around his waist. “I guess I feel a couple ways about it,” he said finally, his eyes on Ditto, who had gone back to eating his hay. “I don’t want it to turn into some big thing. I also don’t know if I feel like dredging up the past again.” He turned his head toward me, so I could see his profile. “And what about you? You want it to be known that you were the girl that night? You don’t care if that comes out and is public knowledge?” I considered this. “Part of me wouldn’t mind just never bringing it up again,” I said. “It’s something that happened, and we’ve both moved on. But I guess I realized yesterday, after talking to Hunter, that it is a pretty amazing story. I’d never thought about it that way before, but it really is. And I do like the idea of someone from, say, I don’t know, Maine or Georgia or somewhere, getting to read about it and maybe finding it inspiring.” “So, you want to do it for other people?” “Not just for other people. But this is the first time that someone’s wanted to write an article about me.” He folded his arms across his chest and turned his head so he was looking back out to the middle of the corral. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about myself.” I knew he was talking about the articles that came out after the incident with Isaac. There had been a number of articles—though all mostly confined to the regional newspapers—that talked about Ollie, though none were that in-depth, and certainly not interested in portraying him in a flattering light. “This would be different, though,” I said. “This wouldn’t just be about what you did.

Yes, that will be mentioned, but it’s not going to be the focal point. It might be…it might be kind of cathartic.” “Cathartic?” “Yeah. I mean, I’m not ashamed about what happened, and you shouldn’t be either. It was a shitty situation, but something good has come out of it. I think that’s the angle that he’s going for.” Ollie’s brow furrowed. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound that bad.” “Hunter thinks that people will be really interested in hearing about it. But I didn’t say yes or no yet—I wanted to talk with you first. And if you’re not okay with it, then we don’t have to do it. I’ll just call him back and tell him as much.” “Do you want to do it?” I could see, in my mind, the article, the pictures that would be included, the words that Hunter would write. I didn’t know exactly what words, of course, but I imagined them to be uplifting and inspiring. Maybe hearing our story would help someone else, would make other people realize that just because something shitty had happened to them, didn’t mean that the rest of their life was going to turn out that way, too. I’d certainly felt that way for a little while after the whole thing, until I opened Ollie’s, and I was pretty sure that Ollie had felt something similar. “I do,” I said. “We really do have a good story to tell.” “Then let’s do it.” He smiled and leaned down and kissed me. It was a quick kiss, because there were guests milling about, but just the feel of his lips against mine sent a warm shock up my spine. I wanted to tear his clothes off right then and there, but I had to get going. “I’ll see you this afternoon,” he said. “You be good.”

I gave him one more kiss before I left. “I’ll try.” I called Hunter on my way to Dr. Mike’s and told him that Ollie was on board. “Psyched to hear it!” he said. “It really is an incredible story. I’ll be in touch if I have questions or need more information, but, like I said, you were very thorough yesterday, so I don’t think I’ll need much more.” My head felt like it was spinning when I finally found myself on Dr. Mike’s couch, but in a good way. “It feels like all these good things are happening,” I said. “All at the same time. I guess I’m just not used to that. But even better than this whole thing with the magazine is…I’m in love!” I wasn’t facing Dr. Mike so I couldn’t see his reaction when I made this proclamation, but I bet he was raising his eyebrows and scribbling something on his notepad. “It’s an incredible feeling.” “New love usually is.” “Aren’t you happy for me?” “I am Wren, yes. But love can be hard, too, especially when the newness of it wears off.” “This is the first time I’ve ever been in love, actually.” And it was. Not that I hadn’t gone out with a few guys in the past that I might’ve been able to fall in love with, but I simply hadn’t allowed it to happen. But with Ollie, it was really like I didn’t have a choice; it was going to happen regardless of how I felt about it. I said this to Dr. Mike. “Does that make it true love?” I asked. “True love is what happens after the warm fuzzy feelings disappear, after the newness of someone has vanished.”

“You make it sound so unromantic.” “People quite often mistake the exhilaration of a crush for true love.” “This is not just a crush.” “I’m not saying that it is. But like I said, love is hard. True love is when you can still love the person, despite all the hard stuff, which often doesn’t appear right away. Or, if it does, people are more willing to overlook it. It’s only once you’ve gotten used to each other that the things you were once able to overlook suddenly seem unbearable.” I shook my head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were trying to discourage me from this.” “I’m not trying to discourage you, but I do think it would behoove you to take things slowly. Not just for you, but for him, too. You’ve got to remember that he was in prison for the past seven years. Regardless of how he might seem to you, he’s still adjusting to life on the outside. That alone takes time, never mind adding a new relationship to the mix.” I sighed. I would not let Dr. Mike deflate me like this. I’d never felt this way about anyone before, and I wanted to enjoy these feelings. “I do appreciate your honesty with me,” I said, “but I think, at least in this case, that you’re wrong. The other thing—I was thinking that I might stop coming in for now.” “Oh?” He stopped writing whatever he’d been writing on that legal pad. “What brought you to that decision?” “Things have just been very busy, and I feel like I’m at a good place in my life, where I probably don’t need to continue with this right now. Not that you haven’t been a huge help to me because you have.” “This decision seems to coincide with your new relationship.”

“That might have something to do with it. I mean, the real reason I started coming to see you in the first place was because I was sleeping around. But I’m not doing that anymore. I can honestly say that I have zero desire to sleep with anyone besides Ollie.” Dr. Mike nodded. “Well, if you feel that you don’t want to continue our sessions anymore, you are free to make that decision.” “Thank you.” I had originally been thinking of asking him what he thought about it, whether or not we should stop, but now that I was here, I realized it didn’t matter to me what he said. He could say that he thought it was the worst idea in the world and that under no circumstances should we stop our sessions yet; I was confident now that I was making the right decision. I had not felt this good about my life maybe ever, and it seemed wrong to continue to see a therapist when things were going so well. “I really do appreciate everything that you’ve done for me,” I said. “You’ve helped a lot.” “I’m glad to hear it. And while I don’t necessarily think this is the best idea right now, I want you to know that you can always come back, should you ever decide that you need to.” “I will,” I said, though if things continued on this track, I had doubts that I’d ever need to come talk to him again. Later that afternoon, after the restaurant had closed for the day, I drove back over to the ranch. We went and lay in one of the hammocks together, a warm breeze coming through every so often, ruffling my hair. “I don’t know if I ever told you this,” I said, “but I used to see a therapist.” Ollie shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that.” “I’m not crazy or anything, but it helped to have someone to talk to.” I was about to

leave it at that and not mention the real reason why I’d started seeing Dr. Mike, but then I decided to be honest. “I was seeing a lot of different guys, and I wasn’t even really sure why. So, I thought that it might help if I had someone to talk to about it.” “Really?” He looked confused. “Does that help? Talking about it with a complete stranger?” “I know it sounds kind of strange. I was a little put off by the idea at first, too, but it really did help.” “Some of the guys in prison would talk to the counselors they had there. I never really did because it felt weird to talk to a stranger about my feelings like that. Plus, I figured they probably already heard so much shit that my story was just one more thing they had to listen to.” “I don’t think it’s like that,” I said. “I mean, maybe with some people it is, but Dr. Mike was mostly very helpful. So much so that I’ve decided to stop seeing him, because I feel like I’m at a good point in my life. In large part, thanks to you.” “That’s sweet of you to say.” “The other thing that really helped was cooking. I started doing that after…after that whole thing with Isaac happened. I just found it to be very soothing, and a good way to have something else for my mind to focus on. Hence why the restaurant exists in the first place.” “That’s good you found something like that. I feel the same when I’m out riding.” “Do you still want to learn to cook? I think I told you I’d teach you, if you wanted.” He smiled. “I’d like that. Though I have to warn you, I’m pretty much a disaster in the kitchen.” “Well, you can’t be any worse than I was at riding. Let’s plan on some afternoon, you

come by the restaurant after we close. I’ll teach you how to make something.”

Chapter Eighteen Ollie As the ranch began to fill to its capacity with visitors, I started interacting with the guests more, if for no other reason than that Garrett needed me to. But I missed it, I realized, after that first group ride I led. It’d been fun, and I ignored the snide comment Ryan made when I was bringing two saddles back into the tack room. Ever since he’d found out that Wren and I were seeing each other, he’d been hostile, as though I’d deliberately taken something that had belonged to him. As I did the chores that morning—filling troughs, graining horses, mucking out stalls —I thought about talking to him about it. I didn’t want things to get out of hand, and I also didn’t want any trouble with him. He seemed like a reasonable enough guy. After the chores were done, I went out and worked with Ditto for a while. He let me go right up to him now, I could halter and lead him, and I figured in the next couple days I could try with the saddle. I wouldn’t get on him just yet, but he was making good progress, and I knew Garrett would be pleased. I was closing the latch on Ditto’s gate when I heard someone walk up behind me. “Um, excuse me?” It was one of the guests; I couldn’t remember her name, but she’d just gotten here the other day with her family, from Half Moon Bay, California. “You work here, right?” She looked anxiously over her shoulder. “I do. Is everything all right?” “Well, there’s all this water going into the barn, I think someone’s left the hose on…”

I ran back to the barn and saw that the hose had been uncoiled and was lying there in the middle of the aisle, on full blast. Water was filling spilling over the concrete, into the stalls. I turned the spigot off and stared. What the hell? I went over and looked in the first stall, which had already been cleaned out. The water had been running long enough to turn the stall into a shavings swamp, and as I hurried down the aisle, looking into each stall I passed, I realized that this had happened to at least eight of the stalls. “Fuck!” I turned, hoping that none of the guests were in the barn, and luckily, they weren’t. This was going to be a huge pain in the ass to clean up. I went back down toward the entrance and checked out the tack room, frantically lifting tack boxes and anything else that shouldn’t get wet off the floor. There were no shavings in the tack room, but there was a heavy woven Mexican blanket on the ground, and I dragged the saturated thing outside and threw it down. “Spring cleaning?” It was Ryan, heading toward the barn with one of the horses from the corral. “It’s not spring, you know.” “Someone left the hose running!” I said. He looked at the sopping blanket. “I’ll say,” he said. “Shit. Is the whole place flooded?” “Not exactly, but there’s definitely water in places it shouldn’t be.” “How in hell did that happen?” “I just told you—the hose was left on. I don’t know who did it—maybe one of the guests.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll go get Jesse. And Garrett.” Well, fuck. I’d been planning to work with Ditto for a little while, but that would have

to wait. I grabbed a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow and went into the first stall and started forking out the wet shavings. Garrett showed up a few minutes later, looking pissed. “What happened?” “The hose was left on. I don’t know, maybe one of the guests used it and forgot to turn it off,” I said. Garrett looked into the stall. “And there you are standing in an inch of water. That hose must’ve been left on for quite some time. Who did water today?” He looked at Ryan, and then the other wrangler, Jesse. “I did,” I said. “But I shut the hose off. And I wouldn’t have left it out like that to begin with.” He let out a noisy exhale. “Well, you and Jesse are going to have to deal with this. Ryan’s got a ride to do, and I’ve got to take a group out fly fishing. You’re gonna have to make sure you get all the shavings out, I don’t know, maybe bring them out back, spread them around so they can dry out. No sense in wasting perfectly good shavings. And then use the shop vac to get the rest of the water up. You need to make sure this place is good and dried out.” He glanced out at the Mexican rug lying on the ground. “I see the tack room got wet, too. You need to make sure it’s especially dry in there; I don’t want any mold growing on the tack.” He shook his head. “It’s gonna take you a while to get it done, but it needs to be done, and it needs to be done right. I’ll help out when I get back.” And then he turned and walked out. “I’ll help out too,” Ryan said. “When I get back from the ride. Though I’m not sure when that’ll be.” He left too, and then it was just me and Jesse, a young guy from Nevada. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You probably weren’t planning on spending your morning like

this.” “It’s okay,” he said. “Glad it’s not any worse. I’ll get started on the next stall.” Wet shavings were heavy as all hell, and having to clear out an entire stall of them was a workout. My shoulders burned, but I ignored it. I had been the last one to use the hose, and I knew that I had turned it off, that I had coiled it back up and secured it on the holder. I played back the morning in my mind, and I could recall taking the coil of hose off the holder, turning the spigot, folding the hose over so it pinched the flow of water off until I got it over to the first trough, leaving it there to fill up while I went back and got the hay. Yes, I could remember that, and then I could also remember bringing it over to the next trough, and the third, but when I tried to recall bringing it back to the barn and turning it off, I couldn’t. I knew that I had, yet for some reason, I couldn’t recall the memory, even though it hadn’t happened that long ago. Or I thought I was remembering it, but maybe that was yesterday. But no. Just because I couldn’t recall it exactly as it happened didn’t mean it didn’t happen. I wouldn’t have just left it running like that. No way. I worked through lunch, wanting to get as much of it done as possible before Garrett got back. If the whole thing could be complete, that’d be even better. But it wasn’t; I was working on the tack room when he returned. Unlike the stalls, which had shavings that had absorbed most of the water, there was about half an inch of water on the tack room floor. I had to take everything out that wasn’t hanging, use the push broom to push as much of the water outside as I could, and then finish with the shop vac. “This is some mess,” Garrett said. “I know. And if it was me who forgot to turn the hose off, then I’m truly sorry.” “Was it you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I was the one who filled up the water troughs. I don’t think anyone else used the hose for anything.” He nodded grimly and then pulled his work gloves out of his back pocket. “I’ll let you get back to it.” I turned the vacuum back on and started sucking up the remaining water. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d been working to clean up the barn, but it felt like the entire day. The sun was already starting to get low in the sky when I was finally done. Jesse had helped for a while but then left to get started on the afternoon chores, and Ryan never showed up at all; maybe his group ride had taken more out of him than he’d anticipated. Either way, once everything was done, I was exhausted, and my whole body ached. In a way, I was glad for the pain, because I felt as though I deserved it for having screwed up so badly in the first place. I had just gotten back to my cabin and was sitting down to take my boots off when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said, not getting up from the kitchen chair. The screen door swung open. I didn’t recognize him at first, this tall guy with short, styled hair, a bright red collared shirt, and black shorts that stopped well above the knee. He had flip flops on his feet. “Oliver,” he said. “Hello.” It was Darren, my older brother. How long had it been since I’d last seen him? I couldn’t remember. He looked different—he looked like someone that I used to know who had gone out and cultivated a completely different life for himself. Which was probably true.

“Darren.” I kicked my other boot off and stood up. “What are you doing here?” I asked. He looked completely out of place, with his impeccable designer clothes that looked like they must have cost a fortune. “I was in town,” he said. “And I heard that you were around. I didn’t want to leave without coming to see you first.” He walked over and stood in front of me, and we hugged, awkwardly. “It’s been a while,” I said. “Yes, it has. But you look well. Ranch life has always agreed with you. Glad it was that way for one of us. Mind if I sit?” “Not at all.” We both sat down at the kitchen table. “I don’t have too much to offer, but I think there’s some orange juice in the fridge.” Darren smiled. “I’m good, thanks.” “So, you’re just around for a visit?” It was so strange, sitting here with him, after he was gone for all those years. “No, not just for a visit,” he said. “Mr. Hanlon died, so I came back for his funeral.” “Who?” Darren gave me a patient look. “Mr. Hanlon, the guidance counselor. Also known as the only reason I actually graduated high school and was able to escape from this hell hole. Trust me, Oliver, I wouldn’t be back here if I didn’t have to be. But it’s good to see you. I was wondering how you’d been. I figured you’d be out by now.” “Did you,” I said. Darren had been one of the few people I knew for a fact had not tried to come see me. I figured he’d just written me off completely. “Yeah. I might have considered trying to visit you, but I heard all about how well that went for Mom.” He frowned. “You were always the good one, you know? Her good little

boy.” He left the rest of the thought unsaid, but I knew what he was thinking. You were always the good little boy, and then you went and did this horrible thing and when she tried to visit, you refused to see her—your dying mother. “It’s not like you were around all that much either,” I said. “She would’ve loved to hear from you. That’s what she was always talking about—Darren, who had moved to California—like California was some magical foreign land.” “In a way, it is. If you’re not into the same shit everyone else is in this town, then yeah, it is like a magical place because there’s people out there from all walks of life. And I was out there at the right place at the right time. Into the right stuff. I’m doing better than I ever thought I would be, financially, emotionally, physically—everything is a fucking dream. It’s incredible.” “Happy to hear it’s all worked out for you.” “You want to come out there? You want to start over? Get the hell out of this place? No one would blame you if you did.” “I’m fine here.” I shook my head. “And even if I did, what the hell would I do in San Francisco? I don’t have a job. I’ve never lived in a city.” “A change of pace might be good for you. And you could find a job. You can live with me until you get your own place. I’ve got a place in the Marina and then a loft in SoMa. Also a house in Bernal Heights, but the family there might be moving soon. Too big of a place for one person, but…” He gave me a questioning look. “I heard there was a lady in your life?” “Yeah, there is, but I don’t think she’s gonna want to move to San Francisco. You own all those places out there?” “I do. And another place up in Sonoma and another down in Santa Cruz. It didn’t all

happen overnight, but, like I said, I was in the right place at the right time.” “Computers, isn’t it?” He nodded. “The tech industry out there is… it’s unbelievable. You’ve got to see it to believe it. So, why not come check it out? At least for a visit. I’ll get your tickets, you and your girl, and you guys can come see what it’s like.” “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I know I don’t, but I want to.” He took a step closer to me, a serious expression on his face. “Listen—I know it’s been a long time since we talked. We’re practically strangers. But I don’t want it to have to be like that. It shouldn’t, if you ask me. I’d like to fix it. And it would really mean a lot to me if you would come out to San Francisco. Think of it like a well-deserved vacation.” “I’ll talk to Wren,” I said. I had been planning to go over to the restaurant for a little bit in the afternoon, before I had to go back to the ranch for the afternoon chores, to learn how to cook something. After the morning I’d had, I didn’t feel much like learning anything, but I did want to see Wren, so I cleaned up and headed over. “How was your day?” she asked. “We were crazy busy here today. But it was good.” “I’m glad one of us had a good day,” I said, giving her the abridged version of my morning. “Oh, boy,” she said. “That sounds like a mess.” “It was.” “Well, come on. Sounds like you need some comfort food.” I followed her into the

kitchen. It was a bit strange being back there, everything quiet, the dining room completely empty. “So, there’s cooking, and then there’s baking,” she said. “I like them both, but some people prefer one or the other. I like to think of cooking as an art and baking as a science. You can mess around more with cooking, improvise, be creative. Baking is way more temperamental, and it’s a lot easier to screw things up.” “I’ve screwed up enough things for one day,” I said. Wren smiled. “Cooking it is. And really, don’t be too hard on yourself. Forgetting to turn the water off happens sometimes. I may have forgotten to do it a time or two myself. Never the stove, though. I’ve always remembered to turn the burners off. Anyway. Why don’t we make something simple, but good, especially on a hot day like this? It’s a variation of pasta salad, and the nice thing about this is you can alter it as you want, and use whatever you’ve got in the fridge.” “Right now, that would be about half a quart of orange juice. Oh, and the other thing that happened this morning is my brother stopped by. And he wants us to go out to San Francisco.” She stopped rummaging in the fridge and looked at me. “Wait, what? Did you just say go to San Francisco?” “Yeah. That’s where he lives now.” “And he wants us to go visit him?” “That’s what he said.” “I’d love to go to San Francisco!” she exclaimed, with more enthusiasm than I’d been expecting. “I didn’t even know you had a brother! Have him come into the restaurant before he goes.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll tell him. And I guess you didn’t really know that I had a brother because we haven’t been that close. No bad blood between us or anything, he just ended up moving, and he never wanted to come back here, which for him, I can understand.” “Not a small-town guy?” “No. And he’s gay, which some people gave him a hard time about in school, even though he wasn’t out of the closet yet. That’s a strange saying, isn’t it? ‘Out of the closet’?” She shrugged. “Not when it’s something you feel like you have to hide.” “That makes sense when you put it that way. Yeah, I guess I never really considered what things must’ve been like for him. It’s not like I wanted him to feel so out of place or anything. I’d just always felt so comfortable here; I assumed everyone else did, too. That was short-sighted of me.” “I would love to go out there. I’d also like to meet him, so tell him to come by! Anyway, let’s get started on this.” She had taken out a number of different vegetables: red and green peppers, cucumber, zucchini, red onion, and a few leftover ears of cooked corn. “We’ll get a pot of water boiling while we chop this stuff up,” she said. “Now, you can use any kind of pasta, but I like to use Israeli cous cous, which is bigger than regular cous cous.” “Sounds good, I think,” I said. “I have no idea what either of those things are.” “Well, you’re about to find out. And it’s delicious.” She showed me where the pots were, and I filled one with water, and then she said to add a dash of salt and a glug of olive oil. I turned the burner on high, the little blue flame caught and ignited, and there you had it—I had set my first pot of water to boiling.

“This is really the first time you’ve cooked for yourself?” Wren asked, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief. “Pretty much. If you don’t count opening cans with a can opener. I’ve done that plenty.” She laughed. “You’re doing a good job so far. Now, on to the chopping.” We stood side-by-side at the counter, identical cutting boards in front of us. There was something soothing about getting into a rhythm, cutting the food into uniform pieces. I thought about my mother, then, and how much she had enjoyed cooking, and I wondered if it was for the same reason. When the vegetables were chopped, the water was boiling, and I dumped the Israeli cous cous in. Wren gave me a slotted metal spoon to stir it with, and when it was done, I drained it in the sink and ran cold water over the colander. Then it was into a big ceramic bowl with everything, along with some more salt and black pepper, chopped parsley, lemon juice, and the house-made vinaigrette. “Give it a good stir,” Wren said, once everything was combined. She got two bowls, and I dished it up, and then we took it out into the empty dining room and sat at one of the booths. “There you go,” she said, taking a bite. “It’s delicious! Good job.” I took a tentative bite. I knew it couldn’t be that bad because she’d been right there, but I was a little hesitant because cooking just wasn’t my thing. But it was good. The cous cous was chewy and soft, the vegetables crisp, everything coated in the mildly spicy, tangy dressing. It was the perfect sort of hot weather dish. “Hey,” I said. “It’s not bad.” “See? If I can ride a horse, you most certainly can cook something edible. And this is

more than edible—it’s great!” I went back and had seconds, and when Wren asked if I wanted to cook something else some other time, I was quick to say yes. Back at the ranch, though, I knew I needed to be extra-diligent. For the next several mornings, I triple-checked to make sure that the hose was turned off after I was done filling the troughs. Today, I was supposed to lead a group ride, though part of me was wondering if Garrett was just going to tell me to forget about it. The ride was just one family of six; the youngest of the kids was about nine. It’d be good to get out and go for a ride, and usually on rides like that, the people wanted to hear about the landscape, what types of trees those were, or what kind of bird that was. I helped Jesse groom and tack up six horses. I went around and checked the cinches, made sure they were tight, and led the horses out to the wooden hitching post, securing their reins in a quick-release knot. Garrett had said that one of the girls was nervous about riding and afraid of horses, but wanted to go with her family on the ride—just down to Hatchwood Creek and back— so I’d gotten Sweetpea ready for her. I went back to the barn to get Bebop, and when I was leading him out, I saw the family standing by the post, talking with Ryan. “Well, you folks enjoy the ride,” he was saying. “Here’s Ollie, he’s going to be the one taking you out. We can head out for some fly fishing around three o’clock this afternoon,” he said to the father. After Ryan walked off, I introduced myself and then introduced them to the horses. The older two kids both said they’d been riding the day before and were eager to get back to it. I could tell right away who it was that was scared of horses though—Lisa, who was standing next to her mother, eyeing the animals with trepidation.

“We’re going to have you ride Sweetpea,” I said to her. “She’s this one right here. Sweetpea’s been on this ranch longer than most of the other horses here, so she knows all the ins and outs of the place. She’s a real good girl.” I patted Sweetpea’s neck. “Do you want to give her a pat?” Lisa looked up at her mother and then at Sweetpea and gave an almost imperceptible nod. She inched forward until she was close enough to reach a hand out and brush her fingertips along Sweetpea’s shiny coat. The mare stood there, right rear leg resting on the tip of her hoof, her eyes half-closed, dozing. “She liked that,” I said. “You’ve got a gentle touch, and that’s all Sweetpea needs. She’ll take good care of you, okay? And the saddle, it’s got the horn right here that you can hold onto.” “You’re going to be just fine, Lisa,” her mother said. “Remember what we talked about over breakfast,” her father chimed in. “Just take a deep breath and be brave. Don’t let fear hold you back.” Her brother and sisters were watching impatiently, but I had a feeling the parents had warned them to wait until Lisa had gotten situated before they got on their own horses. I thought it might’ve been better if she didn’t have an audience, but I wasn’t going to say anything. “All right, do you want to give it a try?” I said. Again, the barely-there nod. “Great. So, you’re going to put your left foot in the stirrup and then swing your other leg over and into the saddle. I’ll stand right here, but Sweetpea’s a good girl, and she won’t run off with you, I promise.” Lisa nodded. I could see she was scared, but she’d put on a brave face. “Okay,” she

said. She reached out and grasped the stirrup, sliding her foot partway through. She hopped, once, twice, and then started to spring up. But then it happened before I could do anything about it—the saddle slipped, so it was sideways on Sweetpea’s left side, not on her back, and Lisa fell on her back. Sweetpea started, but didn’t take off, like almost any other horse would have. Lisa lay there on the ground for one stunned second, and then she started to cry. “What in god’s name just happened?” her father asked, rushing over. “Lisa, honey, are you all right?” The saddle slipped. “Are you okay?” I asked Lisa, kneeling down on the ground next to her. Her eyes had filled with tears, and her face was splotchy red, but she was slowly sitting up, backing away from me like she thought I was the one who’d done it to her. In a way, I had, because the only way the saddle would have slipped like that was if the cinch hadn’t been tightened properly. And I’d been the one who tacked Sweetpea up. But I had never, in all the years I’d been riding, forgotten to tighten the cinch, and I was pretty sure I doublechecked after I’d tied all the horses to post. But it had happened. “Are you okay?” I asked again. She nodded but wouldn’t look at me. “I want to go back to the cabin,” she said in a soft voice. “I don’t want to go on the ride.” “Okay, sure,” her father said. “Brianna, come bring your sister back to the cabin.” “Maybe we’ll try another time,” the mother said, looking at me. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea for us to go out and leave Lisa here.”

“That’s completely understandable,” I said. “And again, I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m glad no one was hurt.” The mother smiled at me, but the father looked less willing to accept my apology. Lisa wouldn’t even look at me. As they walked away, I heard the older brother say something about going swimming instead, that maybe that would be a safer bet. “What happened?” Jesse asked as I led the horses back into the barn to untack them. “They decide not to go?” “Something like that. The girl went to get on, and the saddle slipped. Not just a little, but completely off of Sweetpea’s back, like it wasn’t even the least bit tight to begin with. And I am about ninety-nine percent certain that I tightened it, and checked it when I checked all the other horses.” I felt the cinch on Cinnamon, the horse I had just led in. “Yeah, hers is fine, and I bet all the others are too, because I know I checked them.” Jesse gave me a sympathetic look. “Hey, it happens. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I forgot to do that once, but it was right before a competition. Reining, I think it was. I must’ve used a mounting block to get on, because it didn’t slip then, but when I got the horse to circle, the saddle near slipped right off. Talk about embarrassing. Good thing no one was hurt.” He was right about that, but I saw him give me a second look. It was quick, but I caught it nonetheless. Jesse was a nice kid, so of course he wasn’t going to say anything, though I knew what he was thinking: I’d done it again. I’d forgotten about something important. Luckily, no one had gotten hurt. If that happened, because of something I forgot, I would never be able to forgive myself.

That afternoon, after I’d finished working with Ditto, Garrett asked me to come up to the house. Instead of going inside, though, we sat on the rocking chairs on the front porch, looking out toward the barn. “Heard there was a little trouble earlier,” he said. “The Mackenzies didn’t end up going out on their ride.” “They didn’t. Lisa, the little girl, changed her mind. The saddle slipped when she was mounting, and she fell.” I cringed, thinking about it again. There was no reason that should have happened. “Sounds like the cinch wasn’t tightened at all.” “I know. And I was the one who tacked Sweetpea up.” Garrett made a sound in his throat. “That’s not good. Lucky it happened while she was getting on and not already up in the saddle.” There was nothing I could say that would change any of it, and it felt trivial to apologize. I said I was sorry, though, because I truly was. “If you need to take a day off or something, I understand that,” Garrett said. “You fell back into the work so easily that I sometimes forget that you weren’t working the past seven years. I don’t want to overwhelm you.” “You’re not,” I said quickly. I wanted to be working; I didn’t want to take a day off. “The work—it’s good for me. I need to be doing it. It’s really the only thing I know how to do.” “And you’re good at it. But forgetting certain things isn’t good, and someone could end up hurt or worse. I don’t want to see that happen.” “Neither do I. And it won’t happen again. I will double and triple check every saddle I put on, and make sure every hose is off. Trust me, Garrett, no one is as embarrassed as I

am over all this.” “I know it ain’t nothing you’re doing on purpose. I know it’s not like that.” He shook his head. “I always told Marie to just put me out to pasture once I started forgetting to do things like that. ‘Course, you’re too young to be thinking about dementia and that sort of thing.” “Geez, I hope not.” “If you ever start to feel like it’s too much, you can tell me. You can take a break. Scale back a little. Don’t feel like you have to be able to do everything, just like you used to. There’s nothing wrong with admitting something like that.” I nodded, even though I didn’t quite agree with him. Or I didn’t like what he was saying, as though he were saying I was a different person now, maybe couldn’t handle what I once was able to before all this stuff had happened and I’d gone to prison. I felt like the same person; being back on the ranch had made me realize this was true. Yet, here was Garrett, thinking that these things were happening because I’d taken on too much too soon. I’d have to show him otherwise. I needed to make sure that I didn’t forget about anything, that I wasn’t careless. I needed to prove it to myself as much as I did to Garrett. The next day things seemed to go smoothly, at least with the morning chores. Once those were done, I was going to work some more with Ditto. I was about to go into the corral when I saw Ryan walking over, looking like there was something he wanted to say. “Hey,” I said. He had his hands in his pockets, his white Stetson pulled low, almost obscuring his eyes.

“I heard a real interesting story,” he started. “Oh, yeah?” Somehow, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be one of those stories that the two of us would be able to bond and share a laugh over. “And what might that be?” “It’s funny and all, you letting me believe that you were new around here, that you were from somewhere else. Little did I know you’d grown up here. Guess that makes sense now, why Garrett would want you to take over the place. You must think I’m a real sucker.” I was surprised that Garrett had even mentioned that to him, but I didn’t say anything about it. “Didn’t figure you were too interested in getting to know me better,” I said. “So, that’s why I didn’t elaborate about anything. Sometimes it’s just easier to let someone think what they want, since they’re usually going to do that, anyway.” “Is that so?” Ryan yawned, as though this were the most boring conversation he’d ever been a part of. “Sounds like you’ve got your degree in psychology or some shit. See, where I come from, if a man is going to be working alongside another man, he’d at least like to know whether or not he’s ever murdered someone. Most people would, actually. Most of the people coming on vacation here probably would, too. You know, the families with small children and such.” “There’s no need to bring it up.” “I say there might be.” “Then go ahead, if you want, but if the business fails, you’ll be the one out of a job.” “That’s not the reason why I wouldn’t bring it up. You think ranch jobs are hard to come by? When you’re just out of prison, maybe, but not for someone like me. It wouldn’t take me long at all to find new employment. But I like Garrett. I like Marie. I don’t want to hurt their business. Just know that I know about you.”

“Okay,” I said. “Great. You know about me. How does that change anything?” “Does Wren know?” “That’s not any of your business.” “Now she’s someone I might tell. She certainly deserves to know who she’s getting cozy with.” I tried to hide my smile. “I wouldn’t be too worried about her. From what she’s told me, she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.” “Yeah, well.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” “Well, Ryan, as heartwarming as this little chat has been, I’ve got some things to do, so I’m gonna get back to it.” He stood there for a moment, watching me, but once I ducked under the fence of the corral, he turned and walked away. I clucked to the horse as I walked toward him, and Ditto remained where he was. He didn’t try to retreat, nor did he pin his ears back and swish his tail. He was used to me at this point, though we still had a long way to go in terms of getting a rider on him. It was progress, though, and I had a good feeling about the whole thing. You could tell just by looking at him that he was intelligent, and even if Garrett decided not to keep him on the ranch, if Ditto could accept a rider, he’d make a fine roping horse, or maybe even a competition horse. I looked over my shoulder to make sure that Ryan was gone. He was, and I breathed a little sigh of relief. I didn’t care so much that Ryan knew about me, so much as I knew he disliked me. I didn’t want enemies. But I also wasn’t going to kiss someone’s ass just so they’d be friendly. Hopefully Ryan would just forget about the whole thing or get bored with it. But I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.



Chapter Nineteen Wren I knew exactly what Ollie would look like if he was clean-shaven, wore high-end clothing, and had a penchant for hair gel, because his brother, Darren, looked just like him. “Ollie’s,” he said as he settled himself into a seat at the counter. He winked. “I like the name. Any correlation…?” “There might be,” I said. “Can I get you a coffee?” “I don’t suppose you have an espresso machine in here.” “We don’t usually get too many customers interested in drinking espresso.” “That’s a shame. They don’t know what they’re missing. Actually, espresso’s a little too harsh for my taste—I like a latte. Or, if I’m watching my waist line, a cappuccino with skim milk.” I looked at him sitting there, his long, slender frame. “Right,” I said with a smile. “I can totally see why you might need to be watching your waist line. You’re a whale.” “Girl, you didn’t see me three years ago when I was basically subsisting on caramel lattes and that pub cheese from Trader Joe’s. And pita chips, but the pita chips were really just a vehicle for the pub cheese. God, that sounds so disgusting now.” I laughed. “Well, whatever you diet secret is, the pounds just melted off.” He leaned forward, his face stoic. “Methamphetamine,” he said. He was only able to hold the serious expression for another second before his face broke out into a grin.

“Kidding! I’d never do meth. Well, maybe I would if it didn’t do such awful things to your teeth and complexion. I’d be down for being able to stay up for days—think of how much more shit you’d be able to accomplish!” “I like sleep too much to ever forfeit it,” I said. He gave me the once over. “You certainly don’t need your beauty rest. My brother did all right for himself. I am assuming that he mentioned going to San Francisco?” “He did.” “And I’ll now go a step further and assume that you’re going to help talk him into it? I can tell that he’s on the fence.” “You’re good.” He smiled. “I know. But really. It’d be great if the two of you would come for a visit. Ollie might not love it, but I know you will. And I think he’ll appreciate the change of scenery, even if it’s just for a little while. All he’s ever known is either this town or prison. Talk about depressing.” “I love this town,” I said. “Sweetie.” Darren patted my hand. “No need to get defensive. Hell, if I wasn’t a gay man, I might not mind this town that much, either. But I really would love for the two of you to come out and visit me in the city. I was a little presumptuous and went ahead and talked to Ollie’s boss about him getting a few days off, and he agreed that he could go in a couple of weeks. For just a week, mind you, but I went ahead and bought the tickets. I figured—” “Oh, you don’t need to buy us the tickets!” “I know I don’t, but it’s my treat. They weren’t that expensive, anyway, so don’t even give it a second thought. I even took a trip down nostalgia lane and printed them out at the

library, and I want to give them to you to hang onto. I figure if I give them to Ollie he might misplace them, or, they might conveniently blow away in the wind or something.” He dug around in the leather satchel he had placed in the seat next to him. “Here they are,” he said. “That’s a nice bag.” “It’s Kate Spade. Got it at Saks Fifth Avenue, where I will most certainly take the both of you, and we can go on a little shopping spree, if you’d like. San Francisco’s changed quite a bit since Facebook and Twitter moved their offices in, but the shopping is still excellent. I know Ollie will hate every second of a shopping trip, so maybe we could send him to explore the Botanical Gardens or something while we make a day of it. There’s so much to do out there, so many great restaurants to eat at. You could even look at it like you’re going out there to see how other restaurants are doing things—not that I’m saying you need any improvement.” He cast his gaze around the dining room. “Well, there might be a thing or two I’d change about the décor…” I laughed and swatted him on the arm. I couldn’t remember ever feeling more comfortable with a person in such a short time. I felt like I’d known him for years. “I would love to do that,” I said. “And don’t worry about Ollie—I’ll convince him that he wants to go.” Darren grinned. “I have no doubt you can,” he said. “Throw in a blow job or two if you have to.” That evening, I was lounging around my house, thinking about what I should pack when I went to San Francisco. Ollie’s brother just reappearing again after so long had been an unexpected but very welcome development, and I was thrilled at the idea of getting to go on a little vacation with Ollie, to a city I’d always wanted to visit. Having Darren as

our host would just make everything even more fun. I was rummaging through my closet for my old suitcase that I had last used when I packed up my stuff and left my parents’ house when I heard my phone beep. Incoming message. It was from Allison. Are you home? I’m coming over, she wrote. I need to talk. Please tell me you have some wine. Affirmative on all counts, I typed back. She was over less than two minutes after I pressed send. “Where’s the wine?” she asked, immediately going over to the refrigerator. “Where it always is. Pour me a glass, too, while you’re at it. I have something to tell you, too.” She poured a rather large glass and took a big gulp before setting it down and pouring me a smaller, more modest glass. “What’s your news?” she asked. “I think I’d rather hear yours first.” That should’ve been a clue, but I felt the grin stretching across my face before I could stop it. “I’m in love. I can’t believe I’m actually saying that out loud, but I am.” “Aww!” Allison held her almost empty wine glass up to me. “Now that deserves a toast! Really? That’s certainly the best news I’ve heard all day.” “Really. But what’s going on? We can talk about me being in love later.” She put her glass down and rubbed her eyes. “Well, I can’t believe that I’m going to say this. How old am I? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m old enough to know better.” I gave her a quizzical look. “What are we talking about…? I’m a little lost.” She sighed. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh!” But I could tell by the look on her face that this was not something to be celebrating. “I thought I was just getting a cold, then when that didn’t go away, I figured I was just chronically run down, but then yesterday, and this morning, I woke up and barfed, so I took a test. And despite the fact that I’m on the pill—and I remember to take it every day —I still somehow managed to get pregnant.” “So, what are you going to do?” I asked as she killed the glass of wine. “I’m obviously not keeping it,” she said as she poured a refill. “There’s no way. Three kids? I know plenty of women can handle it, but I am not one of them.” “You’re a great mom,” I said. “You really are.” “Looks can be deceiving, and, just because I’m a great mom to two kids, doesn’t mean it’ll be that way for three. The days of not sleeping through the night and changing eight million diapers are long past. I am not going back and doing that all over again. That part of my life is over. Finito.” She raised her glass again. “Which is why I am indulging in all these glasses of wine. Oh, and another thing—you can’t tell Nigel.” The whole time I’d been nodding along, prepared to support her in whatever decision she came to, but I frowned when she said that about Nigel. “Really?” I asked. “You’re going to keep it from him?” “I have to, Wren. And I know it makes me sound like a cold heartless bitch, but you don’t know the man the way I do, and though Nigel will tell you he’s pro-choice and he’s even donated money to Planned Parenthood before, if it’s his child, well…it’s different, then. It’ll turn into this huge awful argument and then he’ll try to stall me or something until it’s too late. Or, I tell him, and tell him in no uncertain terms that there’s not a fucking thing he can do about it, and he gets his heart broken. I know it sounds dramatic,

but that’s really how he’s going to take it.” “But don’t you think—” “No.” She shook her head firmly. “I know. And do you know how? Because Annabel was not planned. She was an oops, and I wanted to go ahead and get an abortion then because I didn’t want to start having kids until… well, until about now. I always figured I’d be in my early to mid-thirties. But then shit happens, as they say, and I let Nigel talk me into keep it. And yes, of course I’m glad I did, and I can’t for a second imagine my life without Annabel. But the fact remains that I let him talk me into something that I still feel regret about. And you’re about the only person I could ever admit this to; anyone else I tried to talk to about it would just get stuck on the fact that it sounded like I regret my children, which I don’t. It’s two different things. But that is why I am not going to tell Nigel.” “Okay,” I said. “That makes sense. And I’m here to support you however you want me to. I won’t say a word to him.” “She should tell him,” Ollie said. I’d waited until the next day to tell him. We’d finished with my riding lesson and were sitting on lounge chairs underneath a box elder tree, drinking lemonade. The tone of his voice made me look at him in surprise. He clearly felt rather strongly about it, when I had just been expecting to have him listen and tell me, at most, that whatever Allison decided would be the best. “Really?” I said. “Even though he’s probably going to insist she keeps it? Wait a second—you’re not pro-life, are you?” That had never occurred to me before, though maybe it should have. “Is it a problem if I am?” he asked mildly.

“No.” “That wasn’t very convincing.” “Well, I am a firm believer that everyone’s entitled to their own opinions, except when those opinions happen to infringe on the rights of others. And it seems more men than women are pro-life—at least the ones I’ve encountered—which, if you ask me, is kind of fucked up.” “Well, I’m not,” he said. “I do happen to think that it’s not any of my business— unless it is.” “I don’t see how Allison’s pregnancy could be any of your business. It’s not even my business, really.” “I know,” he said, “but I’m not talking about Allison. I’m just saying, no, I don’t think that a guy should be able to choose whether or not a woman is able to get an abortion. But at the same time, the guy in question does have a right to know. So, I think she should tell Nigel. It’s not really fair to him if she just goes and does it.” There was something in his voice that told me he was speaking from personal experience. “Did that happen to you?” He paused but the nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “With Carolyn. It was kind of different, though, because by the time she found out, I was already in prison. And then she tried to come see me, but I didn’t see anyone while I was inside; I refused to. So she would have told me if she could have. I guess that whole thing was really my fault.” He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. “We only slept together that one time, but I guess that’s all it takes.” “Do you think she would have done things differently, if she’d been able to tell you?” “I don’t know,” he said. “We didn’t really talk about it. Well, she ripped me a new

asshole over it, but I deserved that. I didn’t do things right with her at all. Not breaking up with her properly, not seeing her all those times she came down and tried to see me.” He gave me a little smile. “It’s not going to be that way with you, though. I want to do things right.” “So far, so good.” We finished the rest of our lemonade, and he asked if I wanted to go for a little walk before I left. Just being around him made me happy, and I said yes. We walked down past the barn, where Ryan was just heading out with a group of riders. He looked our way but didn’t acknowledge us. We started walking along the fence line of the main pasture when I heard someone begin to shout. I turned, thinking that something had happened with one of the people in Ryan’s group. That’s where I looked first, but they were all there, sitting atop their horses, looking at something. The woman shouted again. “That horse just escaped!” she yelled, pointing. Ollie’s head jerked in the direction, right in time to see Ditto careen past us at breakneck speed, nearly running into a guy and his young son. “Shit,” Ollie said, and he took off. For a second, I thought he was going to try to run after Ditto on foot, which would have been foolish, but he instead ran over to the barn, where one of the other employees was halfway through getting a horse ready for a ride. The horse wasn’t saddled or wearing a bridle, just a halter and a lead rope, but after grabbing a coil of rope by the barn door, Ollie somehow got up on there and took off. We could see Ditto running, as though he realized he was free of any gates or corrals trapping him in. He was getting further and further away, but then there was Ollie, catching up to him. A crowd of people had gathered, and we all stood there watching, wondering what was going to happen, though part of me knew exactly what was going to

happen: he’d lasso the horse, we’d all clap and cheer, and he’d put him in the corral, where he was supposed to be. I could see that Ollie was swinging the rope above his head, and in a second or two he’d let it go and it would fall around Ditto’s neck. Chase over. All of a sudden, though, Ditto veered sharply to right, as if he knew the rope was coming for him. A few people gasped. “Something happened,” one of the guys next to me said. How did he know? They were too far away for me to be able to tell anything, but then it seemed like he was right; Ditto was still running, but not in that smooth, fluid way he’d been just a few seconds ago. He was running parallel to us now, not away from us, and though my eyes were seeing it, my brain couldn’t quite seem to compute what was happening. “Oh my god,” someone said, and someone else let out a cry. Ditto, it seemed, was running on three legs. His right foreleg had snapped, and the lower half was dangling grotesquely, hanging on it seemed, by a thread. And then Ollie was right there behind Ditto, and this time he managed to lasso him. He jumped off the back of his horse, and I started to run toward them, even though I knew there was nothing I’d be able to do. By the time I reached them, Ollie had gotten Ditto onto the ground, his knee pinned on the horse’s neck, holding him there. As I got closer, my stomach turned, but I couldn’t look away. I could see bone and blood, and what looked to be tendons or ligaments, shredded, the lower part of his leg bent away from the rest of his leg at an almost ninetydegree angle. “You need to go get Garrett,” Ollie said. “And tell him to bring his shotgun.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Ditto lay there, his own eyes wide with fear and pain, and I could see the sheer amount of agony he was in. I turned and ran as fast as I could, but someone had already gotten Garrett, and he must’ve known it would be bad because he had his rifle. He took one look at Ditto’s leg and nodded grimly. I looked back to where the crowd of people were, and I could see Marie and a few of the other ranch hands dispersing the crowd. “You might want to go with them,” Garrett said. “I don’t know if you want to see this.” I didn’t want to see it either, but even if I looked away, I’d still be able to hear it. I’d heard rifles go off before, but never so close, and my heart flew into my throat when Garrett fired the shot. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back. Ollie rose slowly, a blank expression on his face. They both stood there for a long time without saying anything. I knew I should probably walk away, but I couldn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the ground. “What in hell happened?” Garrett finally said, anger in his voice like nothing I’d ever heard before. “I don’t know,” Ollie said. “He got out.” Garrett’s eyes blazed. “That much I can see. The whole damn ranch saw that.” Ollie looked completely stricken. He started to say something but Garrett cut him off. “I’ve got to go get the tractor and dig a hole. You go get a tarp from the barn and cover this up.” He turned briskly and walked away. “Ollie,” I said. He shook his head, not meeting my eye. “I’ve got to go get that tarp,” he said. He

walked toward the barn, and I knew not to hurry to catch up with him, I knew that what he needed right now was just to be left alone.

Chapter Twenty Ollie The dreams that had all but stopped were suddenly back with a force. Except now there was another element added to it, that image of Ditto, his cannon snapped, though in my dreams, all four of his legs were broken, yet he was somehow running on mangled stumps. We were on a beach, except the beach was covered in jagged rocks, and the ground moved, like a treadmill, so it didn’t matter how fast the horse ran, he never got anywhere and just decimated his legs even more. All I could do was stand there, trapped amongst the rocks, watching the horse run even though I myself was unable to move, unable to look away, unable to do anything except stand there and know that this whole thing was happening because of me. Sleeping became almost too much to bear. I drank copious amounts of coffee and felt wired, my mind sharp, my thoughts careening through my skull at breakneck speed. Wren was a welcome distraction, but I no longer found myself looking forward to sex and then drifting off to sleep together because the dreams would find me there, too. Wren had come over after I’d finished with evening chores, bringing her laptop so we could watch a movie. I thought that might be a good distraction, and it was, but then the movie ended. “Should I get going?” she asked. “No, you don’t have to. I don’t want you to leave yet.” I got up and stretched, went over to the kitchen, and got a glass of water.

“How are you doing?” she asked, watching me. “I mean, with the whole thing with Ditto and everything…” “I still feel awful about it. The whole thing is stressing me out. I know Garrett’s pissed. And he has every right to be.” She pushed herself up off the couch and came over to me. “It was awful,” she said. “For everyone. You, too.” I rubbed my eyes. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I deserve to feel like shit over this. I don’t deserve someone trying to make it better.” “You know what you need?” she said, reaching for me. “You need a good fuck. You do deserve that. And I think maybe I can help you in that department.” She pushed me back onto the couch, but instead of getting next to me, she stood in front of me and started to gyrate her hips a little. She pulled her shirt off over her head and swung it around on a fingertip before letting it fly across the room. She continued to move, dancing to some song in her head. I let myself fall back into the couch cushions and watch her as she shimmied that hot little ass of hers from her jeans, kicking them to the side. She was well muscled but slender, and those tits of hers were high and firm. She unhooked her bra, let the straps fall forward, and then she danced around a little before letting the bra fall to the floor. I felt my dick starting to get harder. She slid her underwear down her legs and stood there in front of me, not shy at all. Not that she should be—she was perfectly gorgeous, from her head to her toes. “Come here,” I said. She slinked over and then knelt down in front of me, unbuttoning my jeans, sliding them off. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it to the side. “Lie down,” she said.

I stretched out on the couch, expecting her to get on top of me again, like she had before. Instead, though, she turned away from me and then got onto the couch, sliding back so her face was right above my cock, and her pussy right above my face. I grabbed her ass cheeks and squeezed, felt her start running the tip of her tongue on me. I’d gone down on Carolyn exactly once, but not because I didn’t want to. She’d been squeamish about it and, I think, a little embarrassed. Not Wren, though. She spread her legs further apart and moved her hips over my face, while she bobbed her head up and down on my dick. I was glad she was on top; I enjoyed the feeling of being trapped underneath her. I licked her slowly, running my tongue over her clit and then down to her pussy, then back up again, over and over. She groaned, the back of her throat vibrating against the head of my dick, and I groaned too. I used the tip of my tongue and traced circles around her clit, slid my index and middle finger into her, worked them around, and felt how wet she was. Her mouth was silky velvet, and it felt like she had me halfway down her throat. She squeezed my balls, pulling them down gently, taking the edge off just a little. And then, just like that, she stopped. “Sit up now,” she said, sliding off of me. I sat up, my whole body buzzing, my head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. I leaned back against the couch cushions, and she sat on my lap, facing away, so I could run my fingers down her spine and watch the way she arched her back. My cock slid in easily, and I clenched my jaw, squeezed her hips, and tried to get her to hold still for a minute so I could acclimate. I wanted to draw this out for as long as possible, and if she started bouncing up and down right now, it would be over in a few seconds. I took long, deep breaths, slowly relaxed my jaw, loosened my grip on her hips a little, and guided her movements. She went slowly, swiveling her hips, circles,

serpentines, figure 8’s. Damn, she was good. The sensations rolled over me like waves, one after the other, each one a little more intense, a little better feeling, than the previous one. I could tell by the sounds she was making she was about to come, could feel the way her muscles contracted around my dick, and I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped her hips and thrust harder. It felt like all my senses were getting squeezed into the tiniest of fragments, and then all of a sudden they exploded. Even though my eyes were closed, a rainbow of fireworks bloomed across my vision. My lap felt like it was covered in warm fluid. My eyes flew open. “What’s that?” I asked. She was still rocking on me, but slower now, her breathing still ragged. “Oh, shit,” she said. “Don’t worry—it’s not pee. I swear, I didn’t just pee on you. It’s, um…happy juice?” I laughed. “Oh, is that what it is?” “Errr, yeah. That’s the first time that’s ever happened … that much of it, anyway. Do you have a towel?” “Yeah. Should be one you can grab in the bathroom. I’ll just hop in the shower, though.” “Mind if I join you?” “I was hoping you’d ask.” As we walked the short distance to the bathroom, I could hear the sound of distant laughter and knew that there was another bonfire happening. It wasn’t mandatory that employees attended these things, but I knew Garrett liked it when we did and were able to mingle with the guests without having to be concerned with work. I felt a big yawn

coming on though, as I adjusted the water temperature. I just couldn’t go out there right now, even after the sex, even after a shower. For the first time in a while, crawling into bed and falling asleep sounded downright appealing. Wren slipped into the shower behind me, and we took turns standing under the warm water. Then she grabbed the bar of soap and lathered herself up, had me get her back, my hands running easily over her slippery, slick skin. She turned so she was facing me, and I soaped up her breasts, her belly, watched as the rivulets of water washed the suds away. My cock started to get hard again, and she stepped right against me, so the entire lengths of our bodies were touching. She turned so her back was against the side of the shower, the water flowing down on her right side, my left side. I took a wider stance and planted my feet, hoping the soap and water and slickness of the tile wouldn’t make me fall. She put her palm down on the soap ledge and used it for leverage so she could get first one leg, then the other, wrapped around my hips, and I reached around under ass, holding her up. She shifted around a little until the head of my cock was right there, though the water was washing away any of her own wetness, so for a second it almost felt as though our skin was sticking together. But then she thrust her hips forward, and I slid in, and inside, where the water wasn’t, she was warm and wet and tight. She clenched those muscles of hers and raked her fingers down my back and bit my earlobe, and with the water cascading down on us, I just closed my eyes and felt like I was in heaven. Afterward, we got out, and she laughed and said now she felt like she needed a shower after her shower. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “I feel amazing. So amazing, in fact, all I want to do is crawl into you bed next to you and go to sleep for a very long time.” That was about all I wanted to do, too, but I wasn’t sure how Garrett would feel about

it. “I’ll be up early to go into the restaurant,” she said. “I know you’ve got to be up early, too.” And she was already walking into the bedroom, pulling back the sheets. As long as I was up when I was supposed to be, I guess it didn’t matter. It’s not like we’d be running around naked, waking up the guests, at three in the morning or anything. So, I crawled into bed next to her, the sheets cool against my bare skin. She snuggled right up against me and kissed me once. “You’re about the most incredible man I’ve ever met,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep. “I love you …” Or at least I thought that’s what she said—I wasn’t completely sure because it was almost a whisper, and then she was asleep, and I wasn’t going to wake her up. And maybe, she’d said something else, or she didn’t mean to say it, or…any number of things. It didn’t really matter, anyway, because I was in bed with a beautiful woman, and all I had to do was close my eyes and go to sleep. Except I couldn’t. Now that I was in bed, now that I was supposed to close my eyes, I was suddenly wide awake, my mind spinning. Sex had taken my mind off of things while I had been in the middle of the act, but now that it was over and I was just lying here, all I could do was think about everything that had happened recently. Was I losing my mind? Was that it? The water being left on, the cinch being loose, Ditto’s gate being left open… In the morning, though, any residual good feelings I’d had were gone. Wren had to leave, and I had to get out there and get started on the morning chores. Ditto’s corral was

empty. I couldn’t even look at it. I was about to head up into the loft to throw down more hay bales when Garrett appeared, asking me if I would come on up to the house for a minute. “Jesse can take care of the hay,” he said. I nodded. “All right.” I followed him up to the house, neither of us saying anything. Inside, he had me sit at the kitchen table. Marie was there, too, and all of a sudden, I got a real bad feeling. “Would you like some coffee?” Marie asked. “Sure,” I said, even though my throat felt parched, and my pulse was racing. They were going to can me. They were going to tell me to pack my shit and go. Thing was, I couldn’t blame them. “Is everything all right with you?” Garrett asked. Both he and Marie looked concerned. “I think so,” I said. “I mean, I feel fine. Well, I don’t feel fine after what happened with Ditto, but…” I shook my head. “I just don’t know.” “Has anything been going on to make you feel more stressed out lately?” Marie said. “Have you been sleeping all right? Eating well?” “Yeah. Yeah, nothing has changed. Except…” I paused. Garrett and Marie both looked at me. “Except…?” he said. Except Wren. And yeah, I did think about her a lot, she was on my mind. But I didn’t think it was so much that I’d be forgetting to do things that were basically ingrained in me. “Wren,” I said softly, feeling like I was betraying her. Marie reached over and patted my hand. “She is a lovely girl,” she said.

“Relationships can feel all-consuming at times. Especially at first.” She looked at Garrett with a faint smile. “I remember when I first met Garrett; he was all I could think about.” Garrett shook his head. “A relationship is no reason to let your head disappear up in the clouds,” he said. I could still hear the anger—or maybe it was disappointment—in his voice. I’d let him down, I knew it, and that felt worse than anything else. “I know it shouldn’t,” I said. “It’s completely unacceptable. I’m having a hard time believing it myself, that I was so distracted I just forgot to do things that I’ve always done before.” But it made sense, I supposed. I was used to doing all the ranch stuff—though I did have a seven-year hiatus—what I wasn’t used to was the girlfriend aspect. It had been different with Carolyn; I hadn’t felt nearly as strongly toward her as what I felt toward Wren. Marie was right; it was, in a way, all-consuming. Maybe other people were better equipped to handle that sort of thing. Maybe if I had a job in an office or at the grocery store, the worst thing that would have happened was I’d staple my finger or knock over a bushel of apples or something. “There’s no excuse for it,” I said. “And I know nothing I say is going to change anything, so the last thing I’ll say about it is that I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You guys have been there more for me than anyone else, and it means the world to me that you even wanted me back here in the first place. I don’t want to jeopardize that.” “We know you didn’t do it on purpose,” Marie said. Garrett nodded, though I could tell he was having less of an easy time accepting the fact that it was merely an oversight. “The last thing we want is for anyone to get hurt— human or horse. Especially when it’s something preventable. I’ve been working in this business long enough to know that mistakes happen, and I’ve certainly made enough of them myself. So, I don’t want you to think we’re sitting here telling you that you need to

be perfect, because we’re not, and we know that’s completely unreasonable. But we do expect a high level of professionalism, not just because it reflects upon who we are, but because it keeps people safe. It keeps the animals safe.” “I’ll make it right,” I said. I didn’t come out and say it, but I knew what needed to be done, even though it was the last thing in the world that I wanted to do. But I wasn’t going to put it off; I’d been down that path before and knew just where it led. Wren was planning to come over that afternoon, and I figured I’d just let her. I could tell her then. I couldn’t let myself think about it anymore than that—it had to be done. When she got there, we went into my cabin. She tried to put her arms around me and give me a kiss, but I pulled back. “Wren,” I said. “There’s … there’s something we need to talk about.” “What’s that?” She pulled my face toward hers and gave me a kiss, her lips lingering on mine. “You can’t be kissing me when I tell you.” She nipped my lower lip, then let go. “Okay,” she said. “What is this big announcement you need to make? That’s so much more important than me giving you a kiss?” I swallowed. “I think I have to break up with you,” I said. To my surprise, she started to laugh. “Oh, you’re hilarious,” she said. And then she leaned over and tried to kiss me again. “No, I’m not joking,” I said, putting my arm up to hold her back. Her face froze, and then she frowned and bit her lip. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be doing this.” “Then why are you?” “Because.” I stopped. How was I supposed to explain this without hurting her? There really didn’t seem to be a way. If I tried to do it without hurting her, I’d just end up not being clear. It would be so unclear, in fact, that she could very well think I wasn’t breaking up with her at all. “That’s not a good enough answer,” she said. “It’s not your fault. It’s my fault. I’m getting too distracted by you. I think about you a lot. About…the stuff we do, about us. And it’s been causing me to fuck up around the ranch. Not just little shit, but big things. Ditto wouldn’t have gotten out, wouldn’t have cracked his cannon bone and had to be destroyed. That’s my fault. I killed that horse. I might not have pulled the trigger, but it was my own damn fault. You were right there— you saw how much fuckin agony he was in. And it was my fault.” “You don’t know that,” she said. “And maybe you did forget to lock the gate, but it happens! Not everyone is perfect. People forget to do things sometimes.” “Yeah, they do, but it usually doesn’t result in something dying. I just can’t take the chance of something else happening again. Something worse, even. Garrett was the only one who was there for me when I got out of prison, he gave me my job back, and he’s been there for me this whole time. I can’t let him down by fucking everything up.” “So, you don’t want to see me anymore.” “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do—Trust me, I do. You make me feel better than anyone ever has. I love being around you. But I’ve got to do this. I’ve just got to.” The frown on her face was deep. I hated seeing her so unhappy, hated knowing that I was the one causing her to feel this way.

“Do you remember that talk we had?” she asked. “And you told me how you hadn’t done things right with Carolyn, but you were going to do them right with me? Do you think this is right? Breaking up with someone that you ‘love being around’? Because in case you didn’t know, once we break up, I’m not really going to want to be around you that much. Or at all, really. Maybe some girls can handle that shit, but I’m not one of them.” “I wouldn’t expect you to want to be around me,” I said, already feeling sad at the thought of never getting to hang out with her again. But then that image of Ditto reappeared in my mind, and I knew I couldn’t retract my statement. This was the best thing, even if it hurt, even if it wasn’t what I wanted. “I’m sorry, Wren.” Her chin trembled, ever so slightly, but her eyes were dry. She was blinking fast, though, and I knew she was trying not to cry, which just about broke my heart. How was I supposed to explain to her that I didn’t want to do this, yet I had to? It hardly even made sense to me, other than I knew I had to put my job first. I had to put Garrett and the ranch first. At least for right now. I couldn’t let him down, and I couldn’t keep doing things that were a danger to people and animals. “What are you going to do if it keeps happening?” she asked. “What if we break up now and you stop thinking about me, but then you forget to close a gate again? Then what?” “I don’t know.” And I really didn’t, but I was almost one hundred percent certain it wouldn’t happen. That the forgotten gates and cinches would simply stop because I’d remember to latch them, I’d remember to tighten them. I’d never forgotten that stuff in the past, and she was the only thing that was different about the whole equation. “I think you’re making a big mistake,” she said. “And I don’t mean that as a threat.”

“I know you don’t.” I wanted to take her in my arms, to hold her to me until that look disappeared from her face, but I was the whole reason that look was there in the first place. The best thing I could do right now would be to end the conversation, to let her go, so she could start moving on. She’d forget about me soon enough, I hoped. I didn’t want to think of her with another guy, but at the same time, I knew it wouldn’t be hard for her to find a date at all. “But really, Wren, it’d probably be better if you just forgot about me.” The expression on her face went from disbelief to shocked to angry in about two seconds. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Her voice shook. “I can’t believe you think that I could forget about you, just like that. You can break up with me right now if you want, you can forget all about me, but I will never be able to forget about you! Even if we hadn’t started seeing each other, even if we never met each other again after you got out, I will never be able to forget about you.” I felt simultaneously elated and completely shitty to hear that. “You know I love you, don’t you?” she said. “I’ve never said that to a guy before. I’ve never said it because I never actually felt it. I do now, but I’m beginning to realize that doesn’t matter.” Tell her you love her back! Tell her she’s about the most amazing person you’ve ever met and you never thought that you’d ever stand the chance with someone like her. I wanted to. The words were there, right on the tip of my tongue. But I bit my lip and didn’t say a word.

Chapter Twenty-One Wren I thought he was going to tell me he was just playing some awful prank, maybe just trying to get me to say that I was going to break up with him. But that never happened. He just kept saying how he couldn’t let Garrett down, how he’d never been so forgetful before, how a horse had died because of it. And that it was basically my fault. “He didn’t say it was your fault, did he?” Allison asked. We were sitting on my couch, sharing a pint of double chocolate ice cream. “No, he didn’t come out and explicitly state it,” I said. “But that’s basically what he was saying without putting it into words. If he hadn’t been thinking about me so much, then he wouldn’t have forgotten to latch the gate. He wouldn’t have forgotten to tighten the…the…whatever the fuck that thing is called that holds the saddle on—” “The cinch.” I looked at Allison. She shrugged. “I rode horses when I was younger and still had time for that sort of shit.” “Well, whatever the fuck it’s called, he didn’t tighten it all the way, and this little girl went to get on the horse and the saddle slipped, and it was all very traumatizing, I guess. The point is, none of this shit would have happened if he hadn’t been distracted by me, and he’s decided the best way to remedy it is for us to break up.” “Then he really is a shit head.” She handed me the ice cream container. “I’m sorry, Wren. It sucks. Him being a shit head doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“It was awful,” I said. “I didn’t cry in front of him, but I definitely did a lot of ugly crying once he left.” “Don’t for a second feel bad about that!” she said. “What a dick! Does he have any idea how much of a dick this makes him?” “Probably not. He thinks he’s doing the right thing. I can’t fault him for that.” “Then he’s not a dick, he’s just a moron.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I think life would be a hell of a lot easier if men just didn’t exist.” “Yeah,” I said. “Except I don’t want Ollie not to exist—I just want him to have not broken up with me!” “He’s a fool. Maybe he’ll realize it. But even if he doesn’t, don’t for a second let yourself believe that it is any reflection on you. Well, actually, maybe it is. I mean, he broke up with you because he can’t stop thinking about you. Which itself is kind of a fucked-up reason to break up with someone. You’re too much woman for him.” “I don’t want to be too much woman for him. Up until now I thought I was just enough. Everything about us was working out perfectly.” “Nothing is ever perfect, especially not in a relationship.” Allison shook her head. “Here we are. You who’s just been dumped, me who’s about to go get an abortion. Yay us. Fuck, we deserve a vacation!” The mention of vacation made me think about the trip Ollie and I were supposed to take to San Francisco. Looks like that wouldn’t be happening, either. I called Dr. Mike. “Hello, Wren. I’m a little surprised to hear your voice,” Dr. Mike said. “I figured I’d seen the last of you that day you left my office. Everything okay?”

“No,” I said, and just the sound of Dr. Mike’s familiar voice made my throat ache, but I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. I had resolved not to cry about this, after all, and I was going to stick to it. I swallowed, the coppery taste of blood running down my throat. “I’d like to book an appointment, please. The sooner, the better.” “Tomorrow at nine is my next available.” “I’ll take it.” So what if it was right in the middle of the morning rush? I didn’t give a shit. It was a little strange and completely depressing to be back in Dr. Mike’s office, because I was just reminded how happy—and maybe even a little smug—I had felt the last time I was here. “He broke up with me,” I said. There was no point mincing words; there was no point in being anything but completely straightforward about it. “I’m sorry,” Dr. Mike said. “He broke up with me because I was too much of a distraction. That’s basically what it comes down to. Which means he cares about his job more than he cared about me. Not that I’m saying he shouldn’t care about his job. I just don’t think that he understands how big of a deal this was for me! He was my first boyfriend. The guys in high school don’t count.” “And why is that?” “Because…well, just because!” Because it had seemed so long ago that I could barely remember it? Because I’d been so young? Because I’d never loved them? “I don’t know— they just don’t.” “Do you think perhaps you’re so willing to discount these past relationships because

they didn’t mean as much to you as the one with Ollie does?” I shrugged. “Sure, that sounds about right. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. And then part of me keeps thinking that he’s going to change his mind, that he doesn’t really mean it. But each day that goes by without him calling or texting makes me realize that’s probably not true.” “Rejection is never an easy pill to swallow,” Dr. Mike said. I perked up a little. “Are you going to prescribe me Xanax?” “Why are you asking that?” I shook my head. “Never mind, bad joke… You mentioned pills…” He cracked a dry smile. “You don’t need Xanax. And even if you did, I’m not a psychiatrist. You’ll be okay. I want you to know that. This is not the end of the world, even if it feels like it.” “I know. But it sucks. And tomorrow I’m supposed to take my best friend to get an abortion, and that sucks, too, and it seems like everything is going horribly now, when just a few weeks ago, everything was great.” “Life does have a way of working like that. But it doesn’t mean you’ve got to let yourself be completely derailed. He might’ve made a foolish decision, Wren, but you don’t have to let it affect you any more than you choose.” I stared at the ceiling and wished there was some magic pill Dr. Mike could prescribe me that would make me forget everything. The next day I took Allison to her appointment at the Planned Parenthood in Boulder.

“So you decided not to tell him,” I said as we approached the city. “I have spent every day since I found out thinking about what the right thing to do would be. But I decided not to,” she said. “You can judge me all you want, but I know this is the right decision. He’d beg me to keep it, and I know that I’m not going to. There’s nothing he could say that would change my mind.” “You’re never going to tell him?” “I don’t think so. It would just hurt him. If I tell him after the fact, he’d blame himself because he’d think there would’ve been something he could’ve done or said that would make me want to keep it. But there’s not.” As I drove, I thought how it was too bad she couldn’t have the baby and just give it to me. Not that I knew anything about taking care of a baby, but I was almost thirty, and I didn’t think I’d mind having a child. Maybe that wasn’t enough of a reason to have one though—thinking that you might want one. “Then you’re doing the right thing,” I said. “And I don’t judge you at all.” “Thank you for coming with me. Though I could have done this by myself, the receptionist basically insisted that I have someone else be there to drive me home.” “Do they put you under for it?” “No. Well, I’m not getting put under, but I think under certain circumstances they might.” “Are they going to give you anything?” “I think maybe a Vicodin. But nothing serious.” When we got there, they had us sit in the waiting room, and Allison filled out a packet of papers.

It was strange, sitting in the waiting room with a bunch of strangers, knowing that they were there for the same reason. I found myself wondering what their stories were. The mood in the room was somber; no one spoke above a whisper. The magazines for people to browse looked old and worn, and I couldn’t help but feel sad and depressed. Not that this situation even had anything to do with me; I was just there to offer support to my friend. But still, no one sitting in this room right now wanted to be spending their Saturday morning like this. Next to me, Allison scribbled away on the clipboard. My mind started to wander. I wondered what Ollie was doing. If I were to find out in the next couple of weeks that I was pregnant, would I tell him? Would I keep it? I could easily see myself sitting here, filling out my own clipboard full of paperwork. Yet at the same time, I could also see myself with a child, trying to juggle motherhood and running a business. Ollie was also in that daydream, though. It wasn’t just me and a baby; it was me, a baby, and him. Our baby. But that was never going to happen because I doubted we’d ever even talk again. He wouldn’t come into the restaurant, and I wouldn’t go to the ranch. Maybe we’d run into each other at the gas station or the grocery store or something, but it would be too hard to just be his friend. Allison finished writing and brought her clipboard to the receptionist. She came and sat back down. “I’ll be glad when this is all over,” she said. The door to the waiting room opened and a nurse wearing pink scrubs stepped out. “Allison?” she called. “Do you want me to come back there with you?” I asked. “It’s all right,” Allison said. “You just being here is enough. I’ll be okay.” She patted my hand and got up. I watched her follow the nurse through the door. Once Allison was gone, I tried to look at a magazine, but I couldn’t stay focused

enough to read even one short article. There was a restlessness building in me, not just because I wanted to be away from this clinic, but at the sheer helplessness I felt. I wanted Ollie more than anything, I wanted to be able to call him, I wanted to know that I was going to see him later, and that simply wasn’t an option. I put the magazine back and took my phone out, thinking I could distract myself on the internet for a little while. But that didn’t seem to be working, either; the restless feeling just continued to build inside me until it felt like I couldn’t contain it anymore. It wasn’t like I could take off and run around the block, though. Even if I could, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t be enough to get rid of that feeling. Fuck it, I decided. I wasn’t going to let two tickets go to waste. I’d use one and give the other one away. No, they probably wouldn’t let me change the name on it. Fine, I’d just enjoy the flight to San Francisco, and I’d have an empty seat beside me.

PART FOUR

Chapter Twenty-Two Ollie For a little while there, it had felt like I’d been on top of the world. Work was great, Wren was great, just having the freedom to go where you wanted, when you wanted, was great. I should have known. I should have known that things couldn’t stay like that for someone like me—maybe they shouldn’t. I didn’t deserve that sort of thing. It was too good to be true. I just had to stay focused on my work, not think of anything else. Easier said than done. For the first couple days, it actually wasn’t so bad; I could fool myself into believing that I was going to see Wren soon. But as the days approached a week, and then passed a week, I couldn’t deny the ache I felt at her absence. I kept trying to tell myself that I’d done the right thing, that I’d put my responsibilities before my desire for good feelings. That was the thing—Wren made me feel good. Not only the sex, but just being around her. It was too much of a distraction. She was too much of a distraction. When I wasn’t working, I’d take Bebop out for long, slow rides down to the river. I’d let him graze while I sat in the tall grass and watched the water. Or I’d go for a walk, with

no real destination in mind. The one thing I did know, though, was the places I wasn’t to go—namely, her restaurant. Would she re-name it now? I didn’t even like driving into town and having to go by it, knowing she was probably in there. When I went to visit Paula, I took the long way, so I wouldn’t have to drive by the restaurant. I hadn’t been planning to tell her what happened, but after a few minutes, she squinted at me and asked what the hell was wrong. “You seem off,” she said. “You seem like something is terribly wrong.” “Things are just…” We were sitting on the porch, and I looked off toward the front yard. “I broke up with my girlfriend.” “Oh, yeah? Things not going so great?” “It just got too hard.” That was the simple way to put it. I didn’t feel like getting into all the details, of re-living everything. Paula was looking at me closely. “But you love her, I can tell. Don’t even bother trying to tell me I’m wrong.” I was quiet. “Did you ever wonder why Jackson wanted you to come over here and check up on me?” Paula asked. “Not really,” I said. “I mean, he wanted me to make sure that you were all right. Being alone and everything.” “I’m not alone though is the thing. I’m still his wife.” “I know you are, but he’s in there, and you’re out here…” “He wanted me to leave him. And he was using you to try to facilitate that.”

I stared at her. “Huh?” “He finally admitted to it, the last time I went to see him. I didn’t think he would actually cop to it, but he did. I’m not mad at him, of course.” “I’m not following,” I said, shaking my head. What was she talking about? “He thought I’d decide I wanted to get it on with you and that would be the end of us.” “He wanted me to sleep with you?” I thought back to the day Jackson brought it up, the way he said he had trusted me. There was no way that he sent me out here to sleep with his wife. That was crazy. “Of course he did!” Paula grinned. “Don’t look so shocked! A good-looking guy like you. It’s not because you’re unattractive.” “Why on earth would your husband want me to sleep with you? That doesn’t make any sense.” “Well, you’re right, in a way. What he wants is for me to want you. Or anyone, for that matter, so long as it isn’t him. He doesn’t want to think of me out here, all alone, wasting away, which absolutely isn’t happening. I seem to be doing all right, wouldn’t you say?” “Of course,” I said quickly, though I didn’t really know. Was she all right? I saw her a few times here and there, but I really had no way of knowing what she did the rest of the time. What if after I left she was just going to go inside, close the blinds, and not leave the house for two weeks? What if she couldn’t sleep at night or went through the trouble of cooking a meal but never actually ate it? “I mean, you would tell me if things weren’t okay, wouldn’t you?” She cracked a smile. “That sounds like something a friend would say. Or maybe a

social worker.” “I guess I’m just a little confused about this whole thing. Jackson had always led me to believe that things were good between the two of you.” “Oh, they are; he’s right about the that. He’s putting me before himself, you see. Because I’ve told him all along that I’ll stand by his side, that I’ll be here waiting for him when he gets out. If he gets out. Because I love him. And love isn’t just what happens when it’s easy or fun or you’re lucky enough to still be in the honeymoon stage. Love is what happens after all that shit leaves and the hard stuff starts. That’s what true love is— the hard shit.” I watched two butterflies flutter across the lawn, one after the other, as though they were playing tag. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for it, then,” I said. Paula gave me a level stare. “Isn’t that a shame.”

Chapter Twenty-Three Wren “Do you think it’s totally weird if I go?” I asked Allison. I was having second thoughts about San Francisco. “I mean, really, if any of us were going to go to San Francisco, maybe it should it should be Ollie? Since Darren’s his brother?” “Yeah, but it sounds like the two of you really hit it off. And if he’s cool with you going, why the hell not?” We were sitting out on the deck, sneaking a glass of wine before Nigel and the kids got back from the movies. It had been a few weeks since I’d taken Allison to Boulder, and I was glad to see that she seemed totally fine, both physically and emotionally. “You deserve it,” Allison continued. “You deserve a little get away, even if it was supposed to be the two of you. You’ll still have a good time. Nigel and I went to San Francisco once, pre-kids, and it was awesome.” I swirled the wine around in the glass, imagining myself sitting at chic restaurants by myself. “It just sucks. I’m trying not to mope about it, I’m really not, but the whole thing sucks. I want to see him, but I can’t.” “Some guys just don’t realize a good thing when they have it. Because trust me, Wren, you’re a catch, and any guy would be lucky to have you. Maybe you just need to give him time. He’ll realize he made a huge fucking mistake.” I smiled wanly. I knew she was trying to be supportive, but it wasn’t making me feel better.

“That article’s not still getting published, is it?” she asked. “Oh, shit.” I set my glass down and buried my face in my hands. “I completely forgot about that. I don’t know if it is, I haven’t talked to Hunter in a while. I actually totally forgot about that stupid article.” “Can you call him and tell him?” “Yeah, I’m going to have to. There’s no way they can publish that article about how fate brought us back together and now we’re living this dream life. Ha ha ha. What a fucking joke.” I stood up. “I need to go find my phone. I’m calling him right now.” I found my phone on the kitchen counter. “You can’t publish the article,” I said when he picked up. “What do you mean? It came out great! I think you’re going to be really pleased when you see—” “We broke up.” “What?” I could hear the surprise in his voice. “Seriously?” “Yes, seriously.” “But…wow. The two of you seemed like such a great couple. You two were really… in love.” My stomach clenched. “I guess things aren’t always how they appear.” “I’m sorry, Wren.” Hunter coughed. “That was insensitive to say. It’s just… You two really did seem to have chemistry. I’ll stop, though. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” “I feel bad enough as it is—I don’t think it could get much worse. Consider this free rein to say whatever you want.” “Well…I can’t pull the article. It’s too late.”

My stomach unclenched enough for it to flip, a wave a nausea rolling over me. “Wouldn’t you know—I feel worse.” “I’m so sorry.” He really did feel sorry; I could hear it in his tone. But it didn’t matter how sorry he felt for me because that wasn’t going to make Ollie want to get back together, and it wasn’t even going to prevent the article from being published. If completely losing my shit and bawling hysterically might have changed the outcome, I would have considered it, but I knew that the article was going to be published regardless of what I said or did. So, I just thanked Hunter (for what, exactly, I didn’t know), and then got off the phone. For theatrics, I threw it across the room, which momentarily did make me feel a tiny bit better. Allison looked at me expectantly as I made my way back onto the deck and to my chair. “Well…how’d that go?” “I don’t have good news to report,” I said grimly, reaching for the wine bottle. “It’s too late. Cue public humiliation.” Fuck the wine glass; I just pulled the cork out and took a big swig straight from the bottle. “Can someone just put me out of my misery now? Please? I’m aware I might sound a little overly dramatic, but an article, about me and my now ex-boyfriend, is about to be published in a national magazine.” “What do you mean it’s too late? I thought these things took forever to come out.” “I think they usually do, but this is different. They were already scrambling to fill the slot where the original article was going to be, so this was kind of a last-minute thing. If they pull this one, there’s going to be a big blank spot. Or at least that’s the way Hunter made it sound.” “Oh.” Allison was quiet, looking into her empty wineglass as though some sort of

answer might appear there. “Shit, Wren. I’m sorry.” She held her hand out for the bottle, which I gave to her after taking another swig. She put her glass down and drank straight from the bottle, too. “Then I think the best thing you can do for yourself is to get out of town for a little while. This trip to San Francisco isn’t just something for fun—at this point, it seems necessary. You sure as shit deserve it, and trust me when I say that if I could go with you, I would in a heartbeat.” And just hearing her say it like that made me think that it was the right thing to do, and perhaps what everyone said about things happening for a reason was correct. I decided it would behoove me to schedule one more appointment with Dr. Mike before I was to leave for San Francisco. I wanted to hear him say that he thought I was doing the right thing, that a visit out there would be healing, that when I came back I’d feel so much better. Instead, he said, “Do you think you’re running away from your feelings?” “No,” I said, even though that’s exactly what it was. Was that really such a problem? We lived in a small town and even though I might not ever actually see Ollie again (though chances of that were unlikely; I’d eventually run into him or see him drive by or something), it was like I could feel his presence; I could sense it. Even now as I sat there on the couch, watching Dr. Mike write something on that yellow legal pad of his, it was like I had a little radar in me that was tuned to Ollie and knew that he was not all that far away, going about his business. “I mean, maybe it is a little. But I was just broken up with. I feel like I need the space to regroup. Does that make sense?” “It makes perfect sense.” “So, you think it’s a good idea?”

“It depends.” “On what?” “Why did you start coming to therapy in the first place, Wren?” “I started because I wanted to stop using men for sex. I didn’t want to be sleeping around the way I was, and I thought maybe talking about it would help get to the underlying cause.” “Which we determined was because you wanted to feel in control. You wanted to take back the control you felt you didn’t have the night you were attacked. And often, when a relationship ends when we don’t want it to, there is a feeling of a loss of control.” “Right,” I said. “He broke up with me, and no, that’s not what I wanted.” “I would just hate to see you regress back to your old ways during your trip to San Francisco.” “I’m not going to start sleeping around out there,” I said indignantly. “If that’s what you’re implying. And really—San Francisco is the perfect place for me to go because it’s full of gay guys.” Dr. Mike wrinkled his nose in an expression of distaste. “That wasn’t a homophobic comment, by the way,” I added. “I’m just saying, if I wanted to go somewhere just to sleep around, San Francisco would not be my first choice. Lena thinks that San Francisco is basically a mecca for crazy people, which we also know is completely not true, either. It just seems like a place people can go if they don’t want to be judged for liking whatever it is they like. Somewhere you can go and not have to feel guilty about things.” “Do you feel guilty?” “Of course I do!” I said. “But we already know that! I feel guilty about everything, at

least in regards to Ollie. I don’t think we need to go over all that again, though! I mean, don’t you have it all written down on that yellow pad of yours?” “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.” I leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of what he’d written. He tilted the pad back so my view was blocked. “Seriously,” I said. “What are you writing on there?” “Just taking notes. I do that with all of my clients.” I sat back on the couch. “It’d be funny if you were really just doodling on there or something.” “I assure you, I’m not.” “Well, it’d be funny if you were.” “Is this really what you want to be discussing right now?” “I thought you just said we could talk about whatever I wanted to.” He sighed. “We can.” “Maybe that’s what I want to discuss.” “It doesn’t seem overly productive.” I looked up at the ceiling, wondering how many minutes, how many hours, I’d spent sitting in this office, talking about my feelings. Had it helped? Was I just telling myself it had because I’d spent the money on it? “Maybe none of this is that productive. I mean, am I just supposed to keep coming to see you forever? I still feel exactly the same about everything. I don’t think this has changed a thing.” Dr. Mike put his pen down. “Wren, no one is forcing you to come talk to me. If you feel that it would be appropriate to end your sessions—for the second time—then we can

do that.” I felt very claustrophobic all of the sudden, like the walls were closing in, but not just the walls in this office, this whole town. Its smallness, which I’d always liked, was now something that was trying to drown me, and I had to get out. I needed to get away, and suddenly, going to San Francisco seemed like an absolute necessity, not a choice. This was a journey of firsts for me. I’d never been on a plane before, and the feeling during takeoff was both exhilarating and completely terrifying. I had the window seat, and I peered out of that little rectangle as the ground got further and further away, disappearing completely as the plane was enveloped in a cloud. “Wow,” I breathed. The woman next to me looked over. “First time on a plane?” she asked. “That obvious?” She smiled a little, an act that her face didn’t seem entirely comfortable making. “I don’t fly often, either,” she said. “The last time I flew, in fact, I was a young person. And I remember it being quite the novelty.” “It is. But it’s also kind of strange, when you think about it.” “I try not to. Because if I did, I’d probably have some sort of anxiety attack.” I nodded, unsure of what else to say. She did not seem to be the sociable type of person who would just strike up a conversation with someone because they were sitting next to them, but I was also getting the feeling that she wanted to talk, too. Maybe it quelled the anxiety she had about flying. I took the magazine out of my purse and started to flip through the pages.

“Do you live in San Francisco?” the woman asked. I closed my magazine and smiled, pleased that she would mistake me for someone who lived in the city. Then, I remembered what Lena had said, thinking that it was just a place for crazy artist types. I know I certainly didn’t look artistic, so did that mean I was looking a little crazy? I guess that wouldn’t be that surprising. “No, I’m just going to visit,” I said. “Really, a much-needed vacation. I’ve never been there before. Are you? Going to visit?” “Yes.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line, looking decidedly uncomfortable about the whole thing. I got the feeling that this was not any sort of vacation for her. I was going to go back to my magazine because it didn’t really seem like she wanted to continue the conversation, but then she suddenly said, “I’m going to visit my son. Who is living as a woman.” “Oh,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve seen him…her…in almost fifteen years. My husband refused to come, even though I know he misses him.” “I think it’s good that you’re going out there, though,” I said. “I’m sure your son… er…daughter…I’m sure she will be happy to see you.” The woman blanched at the pronoun, but took a deep breath and smoothed her short, graying hair down. “I appreciate your kind words. I’m trying to keep my expectations low. I know that probably sounds horrible, but I’ve found that if I lower my expectations—with all things, not just this—that I am disappointed far less. So, even if I go out there and he… she refuses to see me, or it goes horribly, or… I don’t know, something happens, even if that’s the case, I won’t be disappointed, because I’m not expecting it to be great.” I nodded slowly, thinking about this. It honestly sounded depressing as hell, but

maybe she was onto something. “I wish you the best of luck,” I said. “I hope it exceeds your expectations.” The woman smiled dryly. “It won’t take much for that to happen.” I’d told Darren that I would take a taxi wherever I needed to once I landed, but he insisted on coming down there to pick me up. “It’ll give me an excuse to get the car out of the garage,” he’d said. It was quite a car. I’d been nervous that I might not recognize him, or that maybe he wouldn’t show up, but as I walked through the automatic sliding glass doors, pulling my little suitcase behind me like a dutiful pet, he was right there, sitting in the driver’s seat of a sleek-looking black BMW convertible. He waved. “Hey!” he said, a big smile stretching across his face. “I would’ve come in to meet you, but they want us to keep moving!” He nodded in the direction of a police officer who was waving another car on. “I popped the trunk, just throw your bag in the back.” I did as he said and then I went around to the passenger side. For a second I considered bypassing opening the door and just hopping over and in, but then I figured I’d end up failing spectacularly, so I opened the door and got in like a normal person would. Darren leaned over and hugged me with one arm. “Great to see you,” he said. “And I’m really glad you still came out here. Even if it was supposed to be the two of you.” I buckled my seatbelt. “Well, I appreciate you having me.” He put the car in first gear, and the car zipped off. It was probably the most luxurious car I’d ever been in, and it felt more like we were hovering over the ground as we left the airport.

“Flight okay?” he asked. “Yeah, it was decent.” “I would’ve gotten you guys first class, but I figured that would’ve made my brother more uncomfortable.” “No, you’re already being more generous than you need to,” I said. “Besides, I had some interesting conversations.” “I bet you did.” Darren smiled, then glanced at me. “So… What the eff happened with you two? I’m no serial monogamist by any stretch of the imagination, but you two made a really great couple! Anyone could see that.” Just hearing those words made me want to cry because I knew he was right, but I was not going to shed any more tears over this. It’s not like we’d even been together for that long. So what if we had earth-shattering sex? So what if I doubted I would ever feel toward anyone else what I felt toward him? I just needed to forget the whole thing. Maybe hanging out with his brother wasn’t the best way to go about doing this. “It just…wasn’t meant to be,” I said, though I didn’t believe those words for a second. If Ollie and I weren’t meant to be, then I probably wasn’t meant to be with anyone. I’d end up being the crazy cat lady, married to her business. The future looked bleak. But I wasn’t going to be able to wallow in my pity for long. We were on a stretch of freeway for a while, the hills golden, just like you’d expect them to be, water to my right, which Darren said was San Francisco Bay. Then, as we got closer to the city limits, I saw colorful houses built onto the hills in front of us, blues and bright pinks and mint green and sunshine yellow. It was like a colorful bouquet of flowers, except they were square, and just the sight of them made me smile. We went beneath an underpass and then another, and then I could see the skyscrapers to my right. The warm sun that had been out in full force when we’d left the airport was starting to give way to a cool, dense fog. It felt

like a fifteen-degree difference, and my forearms were covered in goosebumps. “Summer in San Francisco,” Darren said. “It’s been foggy for the past couple days, but it should be sunny tomorrow. A rare treat. So, we will definitely go out and enjoy it. I’ve been working so much lately, anyway, that I could really use a day to not really have an agenda and to just see where things take us. I do have a few places in mind, of course, but we can just take it easy for the rest of the day, if you want.” “That sounds wonderful,” I said. “I think I need some R&R.” “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve got the guest room all set up, we can put some Enya on, burn some incense…whatever you want.” I laughed. “Can you get me a full body massage with a really hot guy? That might help take my mind off things.” “Absolutely, but he might not be into girls.” “I’m joking. That’s really the last thing I need. Well, the massage would be nice.” Darren’s house did, in a way, feel like I was at some sort of exotic spa. There was a spotless marble foyer and high ceilings and lots of natural light. In the living room, a magenta orchid was on the glass-top coffee table. Expensive-looking paintings adorned the walls, and the air inside smelled fresh and slightly sweet, like lavender. “You want to just Netflix and chill?” he asked. “And I do mean that in the most literal way possible. You like Thai food? I’ve been craving some Thai lately.” “Sounds great,” I said. And if it was at all strange to be out here at my ex-boyfriend’s brother’s house, it didn’t feel that way in the least. Maybe it was because I was trying to have low expectations, but hanging out with Darren, watching bad movies, and eating toodmon, red curry with sticky rice, and mama kee mao, straight from the cartons was exactly what I

needed. Later that night, I lay in bed, happy that I was in a new place, getting to experience new things, but wishing that Ollie was there with me. This bed was certainly large enough. I stretched my arm out and felt the cool sheets next to me, tried to imagine him being there instead. What was he doing right now? He hadn’t tried to get in touch; he’d probably moved on, probably didn’t even think about me anymore. Guys could do that. Girls could too, though, and I was suddenly barraged with memories of all the times that I had hooked up with a guy only to not return his calls the next day. Some of the guys didn’t give a shit, but some of them had, especially those where our time together had actually gone rather well. None of that had mattered to me; I’d let them go all the same. I hadn’t bothered to think about how they felt. Clearly, what was happening now was karma. What I should really do was go out there and sleep with a couple guys, remind myself that Ollie certainly wasn’t the only fish in the pond, that sex still felt great, whether or not I was having it with him. I closed my eyes. I ran my hands up and down my thighs, imagining they were his. If he were here right now, right here in bed with me, he’d be kissing my neck as he stroked my inner thighs, his touch warm and electrifying. I slid my hand up higher and then slipped it into my underwear, running my fingers through my pubes, making a mental note to trim them next time I got the chance (though what did it matter if I wasn’t going to be sleeping with anyone?). I started to rub myself, rolling my first two fingers over my clit, not touching it directly, but moving in a gentle, clockwise motion. My hand was smaller than Ollie’s, but I imagined it was his anyway as my thigh muscles tightened and relaxed and the juices started to flow. I brought my other hand up to my breast and squeezed, then pinched my nipple, hard enough to hurt but not too badly. It felt like some sort of energetic channel

had opened up, located deep inside me, where the feeling was the strongest, but it was radiating outward, engulfing the rest of my body. In my mind, he was right there, and I was climbing on top of him, sliding his dick into me, my breath catching in my throat as it happened. The way we fit so perfectly together, the firmness of his grip on my hips, the look on his face. He was so handsome. I could see his face, the look of exquisite pleasure, his eyes closed, top teeth biting into his lower lip. All because I was making him feel that way. My breathing got faster, and the feeling washed over me with increasing intensity. It was going to swallow me up, it was going to submerge me, and I’d drown in it. I didn’t care; I wanted to. I wanted it to sweep me away. I pressed my lips together to keep from crying out as my whole body tensed, my toes curling, back arching high off the bed, the whole time Ollie’s face was there in my mind, as clear as if he were really right there next to me. The next morning I woke up, for a second completely confused as to where I was. But then I remembered, and I settled back in the soft sheets, the down comforter like being enveloped in a fluffy cloud. It was the smell of coffee that eventually roused me. In the kitchen, Darren was cracking eggs in a bowl. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said. “I’m making breakfast.” “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’ll just have some coffee—” He gave me a stern look. “If you’re on the divorce diet, that’s going to stop right now. Don’t worry; this isn’t going to be anything crazy; just some eggs and croissants and coffee—of course—and then we’ll go out and do fun stuff. I’ve got the day off today, so

I’m going to show you the town. Mugs are over in that cupboard,” he added. I smiled. “That sounds lovely.” He was probably thinking that if he packed the day with enough stuff, I wouldn’t think about Ollie. We spent the day walking around the city, taking Muni when we needed to cover a farther distance than we felt like walking. But mostly, I felt like walking because it was exhilarating to be somewhere new and to see things I’d never seen before. It also made me start to think of what the possibilities might be like elsewhere. We got some more coffee and croissants at a little French café in the Castro and then walked around. The fog had lifted, the sun was out, and people were walking around in tank tops and shorts and sunglasses. The outdoor seating at every restaurant we passed was full, and handsome men walked hand-in-hand, talking, laughing, everyone giddy because of the plentiful sunshine. Even if I had wanted to mope, I wouldn’t have been able to. Around lunchtime, Darren took me to a gourmet deli, and we got sandwiches, which we took over to Dolores Park, a sprawling green with an amazing view of downtown way off in the distance. People were parked on blankets and towels; it was like being at the beach, minus the water. “This is great!” I said, stretching out on the warm grass, the sun beating down on me. “Isn’t it? All we need is some beer, and the day would be complete.” We lounged there for a while, until I could feel the skin on my face tightening, the effects of a mild sunburn starting to take hold. I didn’t care; it felt too good.

“So, is there anything that you’d really like to do?” Darren asked. “We’ve seen a lot of cool stuff, but if there’s anything that you’re really dying to do, you should tell me, and I can try to make it happen.” “You know what I’d like?” I said. “I’d like to see the ocean. I’ve never seen the ocean before. In real life, that is.” “Absolutely!” he said. “Though I hope you don’t mean to go swimming. That you’d have to do on your own.” “No, I don’t think I’ll go swimming,” I said. “I just want to see it, dip my toes in, maybe.” “Well, we have two choices. We can go back to my place and get the car, or we can walk over to Duboce and Noe and hop the N to Ocean Beach.” “I’m quite enjoying taking public transportation,” I said. “So, why don’t we do that?” “Sounds like a plan. Though I will warn you—there’s a good chance the sun will be completely gone once we’re out at the beach. That’s just how it is out here.” We got up, stretching, and left the park, walking over to where we’d catch Muni out to the beach. While we waited, I started thinking about the restaurant. “I’m just going to give them a call and see how it’s going,” I said, digging through my purse for the phone. I wasn’t going to admit it, but there was a teeny tiny part of me that hoped Lena would tell me that Ollie had stopped by looking for me. “Good afternoon, Ollie’s, this is Lena,” she said when she picked up. “Lena! Hey! It’s me,” I said. “How’s everything going?” “Wren! Hi! So good to hear from you. We’re good! Holding the fort down. We were pretty busy this morning but things are starting to slow down now. How are you?” No mention of Ollie.

“I’m good,” I said. “I’m glad to hear things are going so smoothly.” “Yeah, they are. I know you were probably a little nervous leaving the place, but you have nothing to worry about. We miss you, of course. But things are going really well.” “That’s great. You know, I might as well just stay out here and not even bother to come back—oh, shit, our train is here. Okay, Lena, I’ll talk to you soon!” I hung up and tossed the phone into my purse. When we got to the beach, Darren was right: the sun was mostly obscured by a blanket of fog that was trying to roll in, and there was a cool breeze that blew my hair back away from my face. It felt like a completely different climate than the one we’d just left at the park. I took my shoes and socks off and stood in the sand, feeling it between my toes. There were a few people walking the shore, and there were seagulls flying around, their cries sounding almost like some sort of demented laughter. “Here it is,” Darren said. “It’s so big.” Maybe an obvious thing to say, but it was. I’d seen land that had stretched as far as the eye could see, but I’d never seen water. The horizon line was a distant blur obscured by the fog, but even still, you could sense the vastness. “I’m going to stick my feet in,” I said. “Just be careful,” Darren told me. “This beach is known for its strong currents.” “I won’t go far,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked down to the water. The waves had frothy whitecaps, the water a bluish gray. The wet sand was cool and compact, and I stood there at the water’s edge, waiting for a wave to roll up far enough to get my toes wet. It wasn’t as cold as I was expecting it to be. It was cold, yes, but not freezing, and I took a step, then another, closer. I pulled the bottoms of my pants up so the water could

rush around my ankles without soaking the fabric. A big wave broke though, the spray soaking me. My breath caught in my throat, and then I was laughing because it felt good. Refreshing and cold like it was washing away something I hadn’t realized I needed to be rid of. Without thinking, I dove headfirst into the next wave, the power of it pushing me back, but my momentum enough that I broke through, the water swallowing me up. I resurfaced, still laughing, knowing that I probably sounded and looked like a lunatic. But that just meant I wasn’t crazy, didn’t it? Because you were only truly crazy if you didn’t know it. I knew full well how it looked, and I could see Darren rushing down to the water’s edge. “I’m okay!” I yelled, waving, hoping that it didn’t look like the universal drowning sign. I stood up, seaweed brushing against my arm. My shirt clung to me, feeling like it weighed fifty pounds. The cold air blew, and I shivered, my skin covered in goosebumps. “What are you doing?!” Darren’s voice sounded far away. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine!” I shouted back. And I really did feel amazing. I felt cleansed, purified, completely washed clean of all the shitty feelings I’d been feeling lately. “Are you insane?” he asked. “That water must be freezing! And we don’t have a towel!” “I needed to do that,” I said. “I’m sorry. I know it probably looked crazy.” My teeth clacked together. “Look, honey, I totally understand wanting to just jump in the water with all your clothes on—I might’ve had the desire to do it once or twice myself—but I never actually followed through. One, because that water is cold as fuck, and two, because there’s probably sharks or some other huge-ass predatory creatures lurking about. Never mind the

fact that it’s freezing, and we don’t have a towel! Here, use this to dry your hair.” Before I could say anything, he was pulling his t-shirt off and patting my wet hair with it. “You don’t have to get your shirt all wet!” I said. “Your hair is going to be dripping all over you if I don’t. And besides, I’ve been focusing on strengthening my core muscles lately, so I might as well show them off.” I cast a glance at his torso, which was indeed sculpted and smooth. “You look great,” I said. He gave me a dry look. “Why thank you. Wish I could say the same about you, but you look like a drowned rat. Let’s get back to my place so you can change out of those clothes.” When we got back to Darren’s, I took a warm shower and used some expensive shampoo that made my hair smell like coconuts. When I got out, I put on a dry shirt and some yoga pants and wandered out to the living room, where Darren was sitting, typing something onto his phone. I went over to the side table and looked at one of the framed pictures that I’d somehow missed before. “Is that Ollie?” I asked, picking up the picture. “Sure is,” Darren said. “And that must be your mom.” The picture was the two of them sitting at a picnic table. Ollie was looking at the camera, smiling, and his mom was looking at him, a matching smile on her face. “She’s beautiful,” I said. Darren nodded. “She was. She had a hard life. Our dad was an asshole; I don’t know how much Ollie’s told you, but he certainly wasn’t going to win any father-of-the-year awards. Mom stuck it out, though. I have no idea why. Well, she probably didn’t want to

break up the family, though we would’ve been so much happier without him.” “He hasn’t told me that much,” I said. “Probably because it’s a pretty depressing story to tell. She was finally getting to live her life, and then she finds out she has cancer. I should have come back more after she found out, but I didn’t. Things were just getting started for me in terms of work, and I really never thought I’d set foot back in that state again. That is, of course, completely selfish, and my mother deserved better, but there’s not much I can do about that now. I did go back for a little while after Ollie went to prison.” He came over and stood next to me, looked at the photograph. “He was probably fifteen in that picture. Always a good kid. Our mother just couldn’t believe that he’d done what they said he did. Though I think she would’ve forgiven him that if he would’ve come out to see her those times she went up to visit. He never came out though. Which, funnily enough, I can understand.” “I guess I can, too. I wouldn’t have wanted people to see me like that. But, probably more than that, I would’ve wanted to see my family and friends. I would’ve been more selfish about it.” I sighed and set the picture back down. “You could call him, you know,” Darren said. “It might help.” “I don’t think it would. There was a part of me that thought he was going to call, or he’d come by, right after he broke up with me, but that never happened. I think he’s moved on. Or just forgotten about me. And if I called, it would probably just annoy him and make me seem needy.” “Breaking up is never easy. I’m sorry, sweetie.” “I know. But I am glad that I still got to come out here.” Darren smiled, and it was like looking at a well-groomed version of Ollie. My heart

ached. “I’m glad I get to be the silver lining,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Four Ollie Maybe it was getting easier. Lately, there seemed to be whole hours that would pass that I’d be busy with work and I wouldn’t think about Wren. Everything was getting done how it should be, and I could tell that Garrett was pleased I didn’t seem to have my head up in the clouds anymore. I was in the barn getting Bebop ready to go out on a group ride, listening to Ryan and Jesse argue over the merits of rodeo as they mucked out stalls, when Garrett strolled in. He stopped and watched me for a moment, patting Bebop’s neck. “So, I just got a call from the Ericsons,” he said. “And they were planning to bring the trailer back here tomorrow, but I guess their truck just shit the bed.” The Ericsons were an older couple who were still trying to make it on their ranch, a small place with just a few horses now, longtime friends of Garrett’s. Technically, they were our closest neighbors. They’d borrowed one of the ranch’s trailers because theirs had rusted out, due to having been out of use for so long. Garrett shook his head. “It’s just one thing after another for them,” he said. “I told them not to worry about it though, and we’d come by and get it tomorrow.” Ryan and Jesse had stopped their discussion and were listening. “I can do it,” I offered. “I can go after I finish up the morning chores.” Garrett nodded. “That works. I’ll give them a call and let you know. You think about

ten o’clock?” “Sure. If you think of anything else you need me to do then, just let me know.” The busier I was, the better. That night, after the evening chores were done and supper was eaten, I headed back to my cabin, hoping the busy day had tired me out enough that I could just go to bed. I took a shower, and as I was soaping myself up and washing the grit of the day away, I started to think about Wren. Just imagining her face made me begin to get hard, and I began to jerk off, but then stopped after a few strokes. I was supposed to not be thinking about her. I turned the shower on cold, and it only took a few seconds of standing under the icy water to get rid of both my hard-on and any feelings of arousal. I got out, brushed my teeth, and got into bed. The second my head hit the pillow, I knew that sleep was still hours and hours away. The silence was deafening. I sat up, overcome with the desire to be around people. I didn’t want to talk to them, necessarily, but I wanted to be somewhere not completely consumed by silence. In other words, I wanted to be anywhere except where I was at the moment. The only place to really go, though, was a bar. I hadn’t been to a bar since I’d been out, and I knew I wasn’t going to the Watering Hole. I drove a few towns over to a bar called Isaac’s. I’d never been there before, but that was good; I figured there’d be no chance I’d run into anyone I knew. Hopefully, I’d be able to sit at the end of the bar and be ignored, let my thoughts get washed away amongst other people’s conversations. But right off I knew it wasn’t going to go as I wanted. I got a spot at the bar, but it wasn’t at the end, it was closer to the middle, and though the seats next to me were empty, they weren’t for long. A girl sidled up to the bar with dyed blond hair with the roots

starting to grow out and big, straight teeth that reminded me of a horse’s. She wasn’t bad looking, though, and when she smiled and said “Hi,” I at least felt I should acknowledge her, not to be rude. She must have taken that as an invitation to sit down and start a conversation, because that’s exactly what she did. “You new in town?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. My name’s Paige.” She gave me a sassy smile and held her hand out. “Ollie,” I said. I shook her hand, though she held onto mine for a few seconds after I tried to let go. “You just move here?” She licked her lips in what she probably thought was a seductive gesture but just reminded me of a cat after it’d finished eating. “I grew up around here, so I guess you can’t really say that I’m new. Never been to this bar, though.” “Yeah, I knew that for certain. I would’ve recognized you if you’d been in here before. I’d never forget someone as good looking as you.” I smiled wanly, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to get into whatever it was she was looking for. “I’m not really looking for that sort of thing right now.” She arched an eyebrow. “What sort of thing? I’m being friendly is all.” “Well, that’s mighty kind of you.” “Everyone could use a friend, right?” I took a sip of my beer. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She looked over at my hands. “You married?” “No ma’am.”

“So, you’re not married, but you’re at a bar alone. And you say you’re not looking for that sort of thing. What are you looking for, then?” I considered this. “I don’t know. Probably nothing that I could find at a bar, so maybe I should get going.” Sleep was still a far way’s off, but I could always drive around for a while. Paige was still giving me that coy look, as though I was nothing more than a simple challenge she was certain she’d be able to conquer by the night’s end. “I could try to help you figure it out. You might have a lot of fun—you just don’t know it yet.” “I’m not looking for fun right now, either.” “Everybody’s looking for fun.” She reached over and put her hand on my leg, inching it up toward my crotch. I grabbed her wrist, not tight enough to hurt, but enough so she’d know I meant business. “I don’t think you’re hearing me,” I said in an even tone. “I just want to be left alone.” She yanked her arm back, a wounded look on her face. “Then why come out to a bar?” she asked as she got up off the stool. “That’s about the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard.” “There a problem over here?” A guy around my age had come over, looking first at me then at Paige. His face was flushed, and the smell of booze was strong on his breath. They looked similar and had the same teeth. Brother and sister. “He hurt you?” he asked Paige. She rubbed her wrist. “He grabbed me.” The guy turned to me. “Don’t you understand what it means when a girl says ‘no’?”

“Sure do,” I said, waiting for Paige to interrupt and tell her brother that it was the other way around—that I had been the one not interested in her advances. I realized a second later though, how very stupid that thought of mine was. She wasn’t going to say word one about it. And her brother took my response as wising off. Anger flared in his eyes, and he grabbed me, jerking me off the stool. I tried to get my feet under me, but he used his momentum and the fact that I was stumbling to fling me into the side of one of the tables, the corner catching me right in the solar plexus. Would’ve been the perfect shot if he’d been trying to get an inanimate object to give me the Heimlich, but I wasn’t choking on anything. The people sitting at the nearby tables got up, taking their drinks with them. No one seemed that surprised that this was happening; it was probably some sort of regular occurrence. “I’m getting real sick of out-of-towners like yourself coming into our place and mouthing off.” He kicked me, and my knee buckled, but I remained on my feet, the pain coursing through my whole body like poison. “Not so much of a big shot now, are you? You want to grab me? Go ahead. Grab me. I’ll give you a free shot.” When I didn’t make a move to hit him, he lashed out with his right arm, catching me on the side of the head. It felt like my brain was bouncing off the inside of my skull; there was a ringing in my ears. The urge to hit him flared, but I kept my clenched fists at my side, which only seemed to enrage him further. “Not so sure of yourself now, are you?” he taunted, his blows coming in harder and faster, to the point that I could no longer feel them because my whole body had gone numb. “I think you’ve taught him a lesson, Ernie,” someone said. Other people started

chiming in. “Yeah, man, enough.” “He’s not even fighting back.” “How’s that guy even still on his feet?” “If he’d hit back, I bet he’d have a great career in the UFC!” Finally, the guy stopped, his breathing heavy, the anger still flashing through his eyes. His knuckles were bright red on both hands. “I don’t know what the fuck your deal is, man,” he said, “but you’re sure as shit not welcome here. So, time to get the fuck out before I change my mind and take you outside and fuckin curb your ass.” There was laughter now. “Ernie, you’re not going to curb anyone.” “You’re gonna have to walk a few miles to find a curb.” I headed for the door, though it felt like I was floating a few inches above my body, and I had to try to control it the way you had to control a car in a video game. I passed Paige on my way out, who had started the whole thing, and though she had the faint trace of a smile on her face, I could see she felt bad. “Why didn’t you hit him back?” a guy with a goatee and lots of acne asked. He held the door open for me. “You should’ve hit him back.” He shook his head. He felt bad for me too, I could tell, or maybe he just thought I was stupid. I limped outside, my face feeling swollen and hot, my ribs aching. Now that I was in the fresh air, I could suddenly feel every ache and pain, and I was barely able to make it over to my truck. Why hadn’t I hit him back? It wasn’t that I’d been afraid of him. It wasn’t that I’d been afraid if I started to hit him, I wouldn’t have been able to stop. I wanted to know that I could stand there and take it. That I had the self-control to not fight

back, even if it was in a situation where I hadn’t done anything wrong. I opened the door to the truck and crawled in. I reclined the seat all the way back and lay there, tasting blood from a cut in my mouth. I think I passed out for a little while, because when I came to, the parking lot was empty, and the bar had closed. My whole body felt stiff and was throbbing in pain. “Fuck,” I said. I sat up, moved the seat forward, and fumbled for the keys. Driving was probably not the smartest idea right now, but I didn’t want to still be in the parking lot when the sun rose. I needed to get back to the ranch. I made it, somehow. I parked the truck near the barn so the headlights wouldn’t wake up anyone sleeping in the cabins, and I gingerly walked to my own cabin. All I wanted to do was sleep. I had to force myself up on time the next morning. The pain felt a thousand times more intense than it had the night before, though the swelling in my face had not gotten worse. I looked at myself in the little mirror above the bathroom sink. Luckily, I wasn’t planning on doing any group rides today, and if I had to, I could probably steer clear of the guests. And if any of them asked, I could say I’d gone bull riding and gotten thrown. “Rough night last night?” Ryan asked, eyeing my face. “Something like that.” “Shit. That’s hurtin’ for certain.” “Yeah, I know.” “So, you’re still planning to get the horse trailer from the Ericsons?” “Shit.” I nodded, even though I’d completely forgotten that Garrett had asked me if I’d be able to get the trailer. “Yeah, I’m still planning on it. What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty. You told Garrett ten, didn’t you?” “I guess I did.” I couldn’t remember exactly what time I’d said, but that seemed right. “I better go get the keys.” I went back to the cabin and found the keys, then limped back toward the truck, which was where I had left it last night. Garrett was down at the barn, talking with Ryan about something. He frowned when he saw me. “What in hell happened to you?” Garrett asked, eyeing my face. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s fine.” “It don’t look fine. You look like you should be lying in bed with an ice pack on your face.” “It looks worse than it is.” Garrett gave me a long look. Things had been going pretty well lately, at least in terms of gates not being left open or water being left on; the ranch had been running smoothly, and I hoped he was realizing that I was handling my shit. “It was a misunderstanding,” I said. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Looks painful. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll go get the trailer?” “No, I can go.” He shook his head. “It’s just going to upset Maureen Ericson if you show up there with your face looking like that. Trust me, it will.” “Are you sure?” I asked. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I’ll take this truck, though, save me a trip back up to the house to get my keys.”

I hesitated, but then handed him the keys. “Thank you,” I said. “Wait a second—I thought Ollie was going to do it,” Ryan said. “He was,” Garrett said, “but I’m going instead.” “Don’t you think Ollie should go?” “Did you not just hear the conversation we had?” Garrett asked, a note of irritation in his voice. He started to walk over to the truck. Ryan’s eyes widened. “Wait!” he said. Garrett stopped. “What?” “You can’t take the truck,” Ryan said. “What do you mean I can’t?” Garrett said. “This is my truck. It won’t take me that long.” “No, you just can’t.” His face was turning red. Garrett looked at me and then back at Ryan. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but unless you give me a good reason why I can’t take this truck, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” “I cut the brake line.” He mumbled it, and for a second I thought I misheard him, because why the hell would he do something like that? Garrett, though, did not. “You cut the brake line.” He stepped right up to Ryan and waited until Ryan looked him in the eye before he continued. “Why in hell would you do something like that?” “I…it was supposed to…” “Don’t pussy out, now,” Garrett said, a hard edge in his voice that I’d never heard

before. “You had the balls to go out and do this in the first place. Man up and tell me why.” “Keith and Jacob wanted me to.” A muscle in Garrett’s jaw twitched. “Why?” “Because…because they wanted to get rid of him.” He looked at me. “They didn’t want him running this place.” “And so you were going to try to kill him?” “No!” Ryan shook his head. “No, I wasn’t going to kill him. I’m not a murderer.” “But you assumed he wouldn’t notice the brakes had been tampered with until he was going too fast and tried to slow down. At which point, the situation would be completely out of your control, so he very well could have been killed.” “They just wanted him to get banged up. Maybe enough so he couldn’t work on the ranch anymore. Or he’d get into an accident and total the truck and you’d fire him.” “You’re a fool,” Garrett said. “You’re a fool, and my two sons that put you up to this are fools. This isn’t like the goddamn movies—I’d know the second I braked for the first time that something was wrong.” Ryan kicked the ground. “Keith said—” “Keith’s a fool.” Garrett took a step back but then narrowed his eyes. “Now that I’m learning of this little plan my sons hatched, it would probably be fair to assume that you and they were responsible for the other things that have been happening around here? The horse getting out? The water being left on? That poor girl’s saddle slipping?” Ryan shot me a look. “Yes,” he said.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing, and I kept waiting to wake up. It had to be a dream; there was no other way. But it seemed to be reality, because I could feel the hot sun beating down on the top of my head, could smell the hay and hear one of the horses in the pasture whinnying. If Ryan was telling the truth about all of this, then that meant I wasn’t going crazy. It meant I wasn’t losing my mind. It also meant that I had broken up with Wren for absolutely no reason at all. Garrett rubbed his hand across his face. “Well, I don’t know what to do,” he said. “Seems to me we’ve got quite a situation here. My sons—I’ll deal with them later. We could press charges, and you could go to prison for this sort of thing, you know that?” Ryan paled visibly. “It wasn’t supposed to be—” Garrett turned me. “Ollie, what do you think we should do? You’re the one they were out to get with all of this. How do you feel about it?” I felt like my head was spinning. It was too much to take in all at once, and I couldn’t even begin to think of what should happen to Ryan. “I don’t know,” I said. I looked at Ryan. “Why did you do all this? Never mind me getting hurt—it could’ve been one of the guests. And Ditto! He’s dead. Why? Why would you do this for them?” “They said if you were out of the picture then they’d put me in charge of running the ranch.” Garrett laughed. “Now that’s a good one. Except my sons failed to take into account that I am still the owner.” “They said they’d convince you to let them take the place over.” “Not a snowball’s chance in hell now.” Garrett shook his head. “I’ve got half a mind

to call the authorities and have them take you in. But what I think we’re going to do instead is have you pack your shit and get the hell out of here. And don’t think that we ranch owners don’t talk, that we don’t know each other. You’re never going to find work on another ranch again, if I have anything to do about it. You took a gamble, son, and it didn’t work out. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.” “Yes, sir,” Ryan mumbled before he hurried off. Garrett and I just stood there, neither of us saying anything. I could see how agitated he was, absorbing the full effect of Ryan’s words. It wasn’t so much the stuff that Ryan had done, but the fact that Keith and Jacob had put him up to it in the first place. It was hard to wrap my mind around. “I’m sorry,” I said after a minute. He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “What do you have to be sorry for? You’re not the one who should be standing here apologizing. Those shitbag sons of mine should.” “They didn’t agree with having me back here. If I hadn’t come back, none of this would have happened.” “That’s a shit way to look at it,” Garrett said. “You’re the best worker I’ve got. And this isn’t their ranch, and it never will be now. Goddammit.” “I need to borrow your truck,” I said. All I could think of was Wren. I needed to see her. Garrett nodded. “Go right ahead.” I knew she wasn’t there the second I stepped through the doors. The place was full of customers—the whole counter was full—but I knew Wren was not working. “Hey, be with you in one second,” Lena said as she rushed by. She looked up and saw that it was me.

“Oh,” she said. “Um, hi.” “Is Wren here?” “No.” “Is she coming in later?” Lena’s eyes darted from the left then to the right. “I might as well tell you!” she exclaimed. “She called the other day and said she wasn’t coming back!” “What?!” “I guess she just likes it out there so much! I don’t know what to think of it myself, or what’s going to happen here, but for now I’m just going with the flow and trying not to stress out!” Her voice was getting higher with each note. “I’ve got to get these dishes back to the kitchen.” She rushed off, and I just stood there, catching bits and pieces of the surrounding conversations. I turned and went outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I did so. It went straight to voicemail when I called. I thought about leaving a message but then hung up right as the beep was going off. What I needed to say wasn’t something you could leave in a message for someone. I had to say it to her in person. Looks like I’d be going out to San Francisco, after all. I was not a city person by any stretch of the imagination; I’d only been to Denver a handful of times, and I’d always been aching to get back to the ranch after a few hours. Getting a ticket on such short notice meant I was paying an astronomical fee, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even bother to call Darren to tell him I was coming out; I figured I’d just get in touch with him once I arrived. I packed lightly, stuffing a few pairs of jeans and some work shirts and clean socks into a duffel bag.

San Francisco International Airport wasn’t actually located in San Francisco; it was south of the city, so I had to take a cab. I’d never been in a cab before, and it felt strange to be sitting in the backseat while the guy in the front drove, a plastic partition separating us. The red numbers on the cab’s meter ticked up every few seconds. “So … would you like to be more specific with where I’m taking you?” the cab driver asked after a minute. When I’d first gotten in, I’d only said I wanted to go to the city. I’d tried to call Darren but he hadn’t picked up, and now I wasn’t quite sure where I was supposed to go. “Uh … well, I’m not too familiar with this place, is the thing.” “Where are you staying?” “With my brother.” “Okay. Where does he live?” “I don’t know.” The cab driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, only his eyes and his eyebrows visible. He didn’t need to tell me how skeptical he was of my response. “You don’t know,” he repeated. “I don’t. I mean, I bet he’ll call me back soon, and then I’ll know. Where’s a popular spot people go?” “I’ll take you downtown,” he said. “It’s a central area. The city isn’t very big anyway. Seven miles by seven miles. Did you know that?” “I did not. That doesn’t seem very big at all.” “So, wherever your brother lives, you won’t be too far. You can access BART, Muni, more cabs from downtown. Lots of restaurants, shopping. You don’t look like you’re

someone who’s that interested in shopping, though. Where are you from?” “Colorado.” “Is this a vacation for you?” “Sort of. The girl I broke up with is out here, and I need to find her.” There was something about being in the cab, with the partition between us, his back to me, the scenery rushing by outside, something about all of that made it easy to talk. Maybe it was because I didn’t know the guy, maybe it was because I knew I’d never see him again, but I found myself overcome with the urge to tell him exactly what I was doing, and why. “I broke up with this girl that I was in love with, and I realize now that I shouldn’t have.” “Mmm.” He nodded. “I have heard similar stories like this one. San Francisco is a very romantic city; if you are going to win someone back, this is one of the best places to do it.” “That gives me some hope.” “Why did you break up with this woman if you loved her so much?” “I thought I was doing the right thing.” “Sometimes, at the time, we think we’re doing the right thing, only to later realize that it wasn’t. I know the feeling well, my friend.” “Yeah, except I knew at the time it wasn’t right. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I still went ahead and did it anyway.” Just saying it out loud made me realize how foolish I’d been. The cab driver dropped me off in what I guessed was downtown. A trolley trundled by, commuters zipped past on bicycles, and cars honked their horns. Families bustled around me, carrying shopping bags, holding their phones out to take pictures. I caught bits and pieces of a lively conversation in a language I couldn’t understand. There was so

much happening, in every direction, it seemed. I felt my heart begin to speed up, and I wondered if this had been a mistake, coming out here. I was standing there, amongst all these people, all this activity, yet I felt more alone than I ever had. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took my phone out and checked to see if Wren or my brother had called me back. Neither of them had. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you, but would you mind taking our picture?” I looked up from my phone to see a young woman holding hers out to me. A guy was standing next to her, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s really okay, you don’t have to—” he started, but the girl cut him off. “Sean, he doesn’t mind. Do you?” The girl had wavy brown hair the breeze kept blowing across her face. She brushed it back and held her other hand out to me, palm down. A rather large diamond ring glittered on her ring finger. “He proposed to me this morning! At the Palace of Fine Arts. It was so beautiful! And I was completely surprised —” “He doesn’t need the whole story,” the guy said, but he was trying not to smile, and I could tell he was just as happy about the whole thing as she was. “Sure,” I said, sliding my phone into my pocket. “I’d be happy to take your picture.” “Thanks so much! I’m trying to document everything we do today, and I wanted to get a picture of us downtown. We’ll stand here, so the Financial District is in the background.” He put his arm around her, and they stood there, big grins on their faces, the tall buildings and skyscrapers rising in the background of the photo. I took a few pictures and then gave her the phone back. “Thank you so much!” the girl said. “I hope you have a great day!”

I smiled and waved as they turned and started walking down the street. Her good mood was infectious, and I felt a renewed hope. I pulled my phone out of my pocket again and called Darren. It rang five times and then he picked up. “Ollie?” he said. “Is that really you?” “Hi. Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to keep calling you.” “No, that’s fine, I would’ve picked up the first time, but I was in the shower. What’s up? Everything okay?” “I’m here,” I said. There was a pause. “Here? Where do you mean?” “Here in San Francisco. I’m … I’m downtown, I think. There’s lots of stores.” “Wait, what? You’re really here?” “Yeah. I know it’s probably unexpected, but … I needed to talk to Wren. Is she there?” “No, she went out. I’m heading into the office for a little bit, so she went over to Golden Gate Park. She left maybe an hour ago. Why don’t you hail a cab and come up to the house? I’m at—” “No, that’s okay. I’m going to go find her.” “The park is pretty big. I’d say call her, but she left her phone here. I think by accident, but maybe on purpose, who knows? Are you sure you don’t want to hang out here at the house until she gets back?” “The whole reason I came out here was to talk to her.” “By talk to her do you mean tell her you realized you two actually belong together?” “Did she say something to you?”

“No. Well, she’s said plenty, but we’ve tried to keep you off limits in terms of topics of conversation. Which, if you want my opinion, is a good sign; if she was able to talk about you, that means she’d be over you. Which I don’t think she is.” “I’m hoping that’s the case. I’m just going to head over there. I’ll see you later on today though.” I hailed a cab and told the driver I wanted to go to Golden Gate Park. “Where in the park?” he asked. “Um … I don’t know. Someone’s there that I need to find, but I don’t know where exactly she is. Just that she’s at Golden Gate Park.” The cabbie gave me a skeptical look. “There’s a million places she could be then.” “What’s a popular spot?” “I’ll drop you off at the Conservatory of Flowers. Does she like flowers?” “Um, I think so—” “Of course she does—all girls like flowers. That’s as good a place as any to start looking, at least.” As we drove, he kept looking at me in the rearview mirror, as if he thought he knew me or wanted to say something. I tried to ignore it at first, but he kept doing it. “Is there something you want to ask me?” I finally said, trying to keep my tone neutral. He sighed. “I’m sorry; I know it probably seems like I keep looking back at you. Well, it seems that way because I am, but not for the reasons you think.” “You know what I’m thinking?”

“I’m not gay. I’m not checking you out.” “I wasn’t thinking that.” Though now that he mentioned it, I supposed it seemed as good a reason as any for him to keep looking back at me the way he was. “Not everyone in this city is a homosexual.” “I didn’t think they were.” “So, that’s not why I’m looking at you.” “Are you going to tell me why, then?” He paused, and for a moment it seemed that after all that, he wasn’t going to tell me. He sighed again. “You’re not from around here, I can tell. So, that leads me to believe you’ve come out here to find some girl. Maybe some girl you met online, maybe some girl who broke your heart, I don’t know the details. But you came out here to find a girl, and for that reason, you remind me of me.” “Oh,” I said. “Well, you’re sort of right. I was the one who broke up with her, but…I realized that was a mistake. I don’t know if it’s too late to do something about it.” “It probably is,” the cabbie said. “It was for me, anyway. I came out here from Oklahoma. I was twenty, so that was, what, ten, fifteen years ago? It was a while ago, anyway. I’d broken up with my girlfriend because we’d been going out since freshman year of high school, and I thought I needed to see what other fish were swimming in the sea. Which is a strange metaphor for me to use because I fucking hate swimming and I also hate fish. But that’s what kept repeating in my head at the time, and, if I recall correctly, those were actually the words I was foolish enough to utter to her. “Well, let me be the first to tell you that there aren’t that many fish swimming in the sea, at least not in Carver, where we lived. So, I tried to get back in touch with her, with Annie, but she’d moved out here to San Francisco. You see, she’d always been happy

living in Carver, liked being a small-town girl, but then she was so heartbroken over our break up that she decided she needed to do something drastic, so she moved out here.” I shifted in the seat, a feeling of discomfort coursing through my gut. Obviously, his story did not have the ending that he wanted it to, and there were quite a few similarities to my own. “So, I came out here, just like you, feeling as out of place as you look. This also being at a time before everyone had cell phones, so matters were a bit more complicated. But I didn’t care. It took me almost three weeks of walking the streets, sitting in cafes, going in and out of stores, before I finally—finally!—found her. In Golden Gate Park, as a matter of fact. Not at the Conservatory of Flowers, though, no she was out on Martin Luther King Drive, rollerblading. She zipped right past me and would have kept on going, but I called her name, and she stopped. She was with another guy.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “Well, the guy she was rollerblading with was gay—you should’ve seen how short the shorts were he was wearing—but that’s not the point. The point is, he was kind enough to give us a few minutes to talk, in which time Annie told me, in no uncertain terms, that I’d broken her heart and she’d never forgive me for it. Yet she also thanked me because if I hadn’t broken up with her, she probably never would have moved out here to begin with.” I swallowed even though my throat felt like sandpaper. Sure, some of the details were different, but the major points were all the same. I’d broken up with Wren, so she came out here, and if I were to find her, she’d just send me packing, though not before thanking me for—inadvertently—setting her life on a new course. “I realize that’s probably not what you want to hear,” the cab driver continued, “but I am just struck by the similarities. We can hope that your ending goes better than mine.” “You’re still out here,” I said. “Why did you stay?”

“At first I stayed because I thought she’d change her mind. We’d been together for so long, had so many good memories together, I figured she just needed some time to be angry at me, to punish me, and then we’d get back together. But…that never happened. She meant it when she said she had moved on. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and one that I wasn’t able to undo.” We sat in silence for the rest of the drive. I didn’t know what to say other than his little story had completely freaked me out because of course that’s exactly what was going to happen to me, too. Even though this whole time I told myself it didn’t matter if she turned me down—what mattered was just telling her, regardless of her response—that was bullshit. I wanted to tell her and have her say she forgave me and she wasn’t planning on staying out here forever and we could go back to Colorado and pretend that whole thing had never happened. But I knew it didn’t work that way. You couldn’t erase the memory of something no matter how hard you tried or how much you wanted to. Even if you were able to scrub it from your waking thoughts, it would resurface later as a dream. That was something I knew all too well. When we got to the park, he wished me luck, gave me a look that might’ve been pity or maybe empathy, and then drove off. I stood there for a moment, trying to get my bearings. What I needed to do was forget about that whole conversation, but that was impossible. I felt as though I’d just had a dozen cups of coffee in quick succession. I started to walk toward the Conservatory, which was a large, white, dome-shaped greenhouse with smaller buildings flanking both sides. Beds of brightly colored flowers set amidst the vibrant green grass. It would be easy enough to get distracted by the scenery, so I tore my eyes away from the flowers and looked at the people. None of them were Wren.

I climbed the steps and went into the greenhouse. General admission was eight dollars, which would be worth it even if I didn’t find Wren here because the whole place felt like you had stepped into another world. I felt myself start to calm down a little. I had no idea what most of the plants and flowers were called, but you didn’t need to know specific names to appreciate the beauty. It felt soothing to be there, and I figured if Wren was going to be anywhere in the park, there was probably a good chance she was here. I wandered through the different sections, each room representing a different climate. The room with the orchids was warm and humid, and though the flowers were beautiful, I could only stand to be in that temperature for a few minutes. I looked at each person’s face as I made my way through. No Wren. Being in there lulled me into a sort of waking dream, where it felt as though I could just wander amongst the plants forever. And if I did, I wouldn’t have to face the reality that maybe I’d come out here for no reason, maybe I wouldn’t find her, or, if I did, she’d tell me to go to hell. Finally, though, I made myself leave. After I left the greenhouse, I walked down the steps and then followed one of the paths to the Dahlia Garden. I looked at the brightly-colored flowers and tried to think about where I should go next. There were other places in the park, but I didn’t have a map. I figured I could just start walking, and maybe end up walking the entire city, if I had to. But as I was passing the stairs that led back to the entrance of the Conservatory, I stopped in my tracks. There she was. Sitting there on the steps, looking down as she dug through her purse. I walked closer but stopped a few feet away. She continued to rummage, oblivious to

the people passing by. “Shit,” she said, under hear breath, but loud enough that I could hear. “Of all the days to forget my phone…” I took another couple of steps, close enough now to touch her. “You can use my phone,” I said.

Chapter Twenty-Five Wren I looked up, started to decline the kind offer, and then stopped. My jaw dropped as my eyes tried to compute what I was seeing. “Wren,” he said. At first, I didn’t believe it was really him. But he’d just said my name, hadn’t he? And he was standing right there. I blinked, halfway believing that he’d just disappear. That I was missing him so badly that my brain had somehow conjured up this mirage of him. He smiled, which was an attempt to mask his uncertainty. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was expecting me to ignore him, or tell him off, or to turn and walk in the opposite direction. And maybe a part of me wanted to. He had broken my heart, after all. I’d fallen in love with him without even realizing it, and he so easily dismissed it, like it didn’t matter at all. Yet here he was, and he was smiling. “Ollie,” I said. I couldn’t think of what to say after that, the only thing I knew was that it really was him, so I stood, leaving my purse on the steps and then jumped up, wrapping him into a huge bear hug. It felt as though our bodies were melding together, two pieces of a puzzle finally re-joined.

I finally let go and stepped back so I could see his face, both of us grinning like fools. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” I’d let myself get lost in the Conservatory of Flowers this morning, my mind going off in a dozen different directions, trying to imagine that I was somewhere else, on a completely different planet, maybe. It had felt good, that illusion of being elsewhere, but now I was having difficulty believing that Ollie himself was not just an illusion that I’d made up. I touched his arm. “You’re really here.” “I am,” he said. “I know it’s probably a big surprise. But there was something I needed to tell you, and I couldn’t do it over the phone or by text.” He paused and took a breath. “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I realize what an idiot I was. And I hope it’s not too late, but if it is…if you’ve moved on or want to tell me to go to hell, I’ll understand. I really will. I had to come out here, though, and tell you this to your face. I realized that I don’t want to lose you, that you do make me happier than I’ve ever been. And that’s not something to take lightly. I want you in my life, Wren. And if you’ve decided that you want to stay out here in San Francisco, well…I’d pack my stuff up and move out here, too. If you wanted to be with me, that is.” “Of course, I forgive you,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about you so much. Well, trying not to think about you, but that’s been impossible. But … what are you talking about? Moving out here?” He gave me a confused look. “Isn’t that what you’re planning on doing? Staying out here?” “I like it out here a lot, but I don’t think I’m really a city girl at heart…” “I stopped by the diner, and Lena said she had talked to you and that you told her you weren’t going to come back.” I vaguely recalled the phone conversation he was referring to. “Oh,” I said, starting to

laugh. “I wasn’t saying that literally. I mean, I’m having a great time out here and everything, but this place is too damn expensive even if I wanted to stay!” “Oh,” he said, looking visibly relieved. “I thought…” “You thought she was serious.” Slowly, I was putting two and two together. He’d come all the way out here because he’d misunderstood Lena and thought I wasn’t coming back. “You would really do that? You would uproot your whole life and move out here because of me?” “I would.” I put my hand around the back of his head and pulled his face to mine. “You don’t need to do that,” I said. I brushed my lips against his, not quite a kiss. His eyes closed. “I have every intention of going back to Colorado. But if we get to go back there together, well…I can’t even put into words how happy that makes me. I’ll just have to show you, instead.” I pressed my mouth against his, felt his hands wrap around my waist, his tongue intertwining with my own. I didn’t care that we were out in a public place, I didn’t care who saw us kissing; this was exactly where I wanted to be right now, doing exactly what I wanted to do. Though I could’ve stayed there forever, kissing him in front of the Conservatory, we decided to walk and went over to the Japanese Tea Garden to get some food at the Tea House. It felt surreal to be sitting there with him, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “I really can’t believe you’re here.” How many times had I said that in the past hour? “So…you just up and decided to come out here and find me?” I asked after our waitress had taken our order and delivered us a pot of tea. I poured some into the tiny handle-less

cups, the steam swirling in the air. “I have to say, you definitely get the award for most romantic gesture ever.” He smiled. “I’ll gladly accept that award. Though it wasn’t exactly how it happened. You’re probably not even going to believe it, but Ryan was trying to sabotage me.” “What? Ryan? From the ranch?” “Yes.” “What do you mean, he was trying to sabotage you?” “Well, I didn’t really explain it to you at the time, but I broke up with you because I thought I was losing my mind. Because all those weird things were happening—the water being left on, Ditto getting out—and I thought that I was just so caught up with you that I was forgetting to do the most basic things. I think that’s kind of what Garrett and Marie were thinking, too. So, trust me when I say that I didn’t want to break up with you, but I felt like I had to because those things were happening. But then it came out that Ryan had been doing it all along.” I put my teacup down. “Really? How do you know?” “He admitted it, finally. Because he messed around with the brakes on my truck, but then Garrett was going to take it, and Ryan told him before he was able to get in and drive away.” “Seriously?” I frowned, trying to work my head around everything he’d just said. Ryan had done that? “Was he that pissed that we were together?” Ollie shook his head. “I don’t think that played a role. Or if it did, it wasn’t the main reason. No, Garrett’s two sons put him up to it, because they wanted to get rid of me. They didn’t want Garrett to leave me in charge of the ranch, and they figured if they could make it look like I was incompetent, then he’d change his mind. Ryan was just the one they got

to go along with it.” “I can’t believe that. What an asshole! All three of them.” “Yeah, it was pretty shitty. On the plus side, though, I’m not actually losing my mind. And when I realized that none of the stuff that had happened was because of me, I knew I had to come out here. Even if you were going to tell me that you never wanted to see me again, that you’d moved on, I had to come out here and tell you that because … well, because I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I know that sounds cheesy as hell, but I really feel that way.” “I do, too.” We sat there smiling at each other. I felt so happy; it was like my heart was going to burst. We eventually made our way back to Darren’s, and he got home not long after we did. He hugged Ollie, then he hugged me, then he grabbed both of us and said we needed a group hug. “I am so happy to have the two of you here,” he said, letting us go. He went out to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. “This requires a toast.” He handed us each a glass and poured. “I just had a feeling when I first saw you two together that it was meant to be, and I’m usually not wrong about these things!” He held up his wine glass. “So, let’s toast the two of you!” “This is a pretty nice spot you have out here,” Ollie said, taking a sip of his wine. “You’ve done good for yourself. I’m glad to see that.” “Thank you,” Darren said. “The two of you are more than welcome to come out and visit any time. And if you’re ever thinking of moving out of state, I’d be thrilled to help you out in whatever way I can. Hook you up with a job, place to live, you name it.”

It was rather tempting, but I’d miss Colorado too much, and I was, after all, a smalltown girl. I knew Ollie felt the same way. That night, neither of us could wait to go to bed. We were kissing before the bedroom door was even shut all the way, pulling at each other’s clothes, discarding them only when we managed to pull away long enough. His touch was electrifying, not just on my breasts and between my legs, but everywhere his hands went, my whole body seemed to ignite. I grabbed his cock and dropped down to my knees and took him all the way into my mouth, moving my head up and down as he raked his fingers through my hair. With each movement, I could feel him get bigger, harder, until it was impossible for me to get him all the way into my mouth anymore. I pulled back and sucked on just the head of his cock, moving my tongue around in a circular motion as I did so. He was trying not to cry out, his fingers wrapped up in my hair. I stopped abruptly, a strangled sound escaping his throat as I did so. I lay back on the bed and pulled him down toward me. I wrapped my legs around his torso, and he lowered himself down, kissing my neck. This might’ve been considered the most mundane or vanilla sex position, but I’d never let a guy fuck me missionary before. Most were more than happy for me to get on top, or to do it from behind, but a few had pushed for it, to which I had always firmly rebuked them. I never offered an explanation, but in my head, I knew it was because I just couldn’t have a guy on top of me like that. Even though it hadn’t happened before, I knew I’d feel trapped, pinned underneath his weight, helpless to get up. But with Ollie, it was different. He kept himself propped on his forearms, so I was able to touch his chest, run my fingers over his smooth, supple muscles. His dick pressed

against me, rock hard, and I shifted a little, moved my legs further apart, scooped my tailbone so I could try to get him into me. He continued kissing me, his lips moving down over my collarbones, then to my breasts. Once he was inside me, he moved his hips slowly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down closer. He moved faster, and I moved with him, rocking my pelvis, his cock pushing deeper and deeper into me. I tried to breathe slowly, wanting to prolong the sensations for as long as I could, but he’d found his rhythm, and he started to come. I was a few seconds behind him, but when it happened, it felt as though the whole world had fallen away and there was only the two of us, the feeling completely obliterating anything and everything else. I bit his shoulder to keep from crying out and dragged my fingernails down his back. We clung to each other until the feeling started to subside, and only then did he roll off, stretching his arm out so I could nestle myself beside him. “I missed you so much,” he said. “That was incredible.” “That’s about the best feeling in the world. I could do that every day and not get tired of it.” He grinned, his eyes fall closed. “Yeah? Can I get that in writing?” We both laughed, and I could feel the drowsiness get heavier. Ollie yawned. “I’d love to stay out here longer—it’s actually pretty cool for a city—but I need to get back to the ranch,” he said. “Not tonight or anything, but Wednesday at the latest. It’s too late in the season for Garrett to find a replacement for Ryan, so it’s just been him and Jesse handling the wrangling right now. He was nice enough to agree to let me come out here, though I probably would have done it even if he’d said ‘no.’” “That was nice of him,” I said. “And we can go back whenever you want. If you have to go back tomorrow, that’s fine. I do have a business of my own to run, after all. Though

from the sounds of it, they seem to be doing just fine without me. But you’re right—we should plan on getting back soon. I’m totally fine with that.” He traced his fingers up my arm, and I let my eyes close. This had turned out to be a very good vacation after all.

Chapter Twenty-Six Ollie As the season continued and summer wound down to a close, life fell into a comfortable routine. If I wasn’t needed for a group ride, I’d head into town after the morning chores were done and sit at the counter and visit with Wren for a little while. She’d come over to the ranch in the afternoon after the restaurant closed, and we’d go for a ride or a swim. We’d alternate where we slept; some nights it’d be at my place, some at hers. The nights we were apart getting to be fewer and fewer. The article in that magazine came out, and it was weird as all hell to see my face there and to read the words. The article was called “A Second Chance at Love,” which was pretty sappy, if you asked me, but I supposed it was the sort of thing that would appeal to the women readers of the magazine. Plus, it was accurate. But I should have known the summer wasn’t going to end without something else happening; that’s just the way things had been going. I’d just gotten back from a visit with Paula, and Wren and I were planning to go for a ride before the afternoon chores. We were heading over to the barn when I saw an unfamiliar guy walking toward us. I knew he wasn’t one of the guests, but figured maybe he was a friend of Garrett’s. “Hey,” I said as he got closer. “Are you looking for Garrett?” The guy shook his head. Now that we were closer, he looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “No, I’m not looking for Garrett. You’re Oliver, right?” “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Then you’re the one I’m looking for. My name’s Kevin,” he said. “Kevin Wentworth.” The way he said it, it was as if we should know him. The name did sound familiar, though I couldn’t figure out where I’d heard it before. I glanced at Wren, wondering if she had any clue. She was looking over at me, and I could tell she was wondering the same thing. He was well dressed, his khaki pants pressed and his shoes a burgundy leather. “My brother was Isaac Wentworth.” Next to me, Wren stiffened. “What do you want?” she asked. So, here he was, the brother of the man I had killed. I’d thought about him before, about Isaac’s whole family, how what I had done affected them. And now one of those family members was standing right here in front of me. I swallowed and was about to say something when Kevin started talking. “I apologize for showing up here unannounced,” he said. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d still be around this area. But my wife saw the article about you two in one of her magazines. I live in Boston now.” “Okay,” Wren said slowly. “So, what is it you wanted?” “I was there that night,” Kevin continued, looking at Wren. “I know it’s been a while, so you probably don’t remember me.” “I’ve tried to block most of that evening from my memory.” He nodded. “I don’t blame you. I have, too. It was awful for everyone involved. But…after my wife showed me that article, I felt like I should come by here.” “You flew all the way out here from Boston just to…to what?” Wren asked. “I am utterly confused by this whole thing.”

“I’m back and forth between here and Boston a lot,” Kevin said. “My parents are still out here and, unfortunately, not doing so well health-wise at the moment. My wife and I are trying to convince them to move back east with us, but they’re being difficult. Anyway, that’s not why I came by. I don’t exactly know why I came by, other than I felt I should.” Now he looked at me. “To tell you something, I guess.” “Tell me something?” I asked. This whole conversation was getting more baffling by the second. “Yes.” “Well, before you do that, I want to tell you that I’m sorry. And that apology goes for your whole family. I didn’t mean to kill your brother. I know that doesn’t really matter, whether I mean to or not, because the fact of it is he’s dead, but that hadn’t been my intention. And I am truly sorry for the pain that has caused your family.” “I do appreciate that,” Kevin said. “And I know that my parents will, too. I imagine that you’ve probably felt quite a bit of guilt concerning the whole thing.” “I have.” “Is that why you’re here?” Wren asked. “To try to make him feel worse? You saw that article and thought that he actually looked happy and didn’t deserve it? That’s a pretty shitty thing to do, if that is the case. Ollie has more than—” “That’s not why I’m here,” Kevin said quietly. I reached out and touched Wren’s forearm, hoping to calm her down. I understood why she was getting defensive and acting hostile toward Kevin, but he wasn’t here to start shit—that much I could tell. And I wanted to hear what it was he had to say. “I’m here,” he said, “because I know something that no one else did, about my brother. I’m here because I didn’t have the courage to do anything about it, and I myself

feel a huge amount of guilt over it.” He looked down at his shoes and then back up at me. “Isaac was not a happy person for much of his life. It wasn’t always that way—I do have memories of us having fun together when we were younger, but once he hit the teen years, something changed. My parents were never willing to admit it—and he was pretty good at hiding it from them—but he was different.” “I never really knew him that well,” I said. “I did,” Kevin said, “whether I wanted to or not. He kept me around because he knew I was his little brother and I’d be loyal to him. And he was right.” His gaze went over to Wren. “I knew that night that he was going to try something with you, whether you wanted it or not.” “How did you know?” she asked. “That’s what he said on the drive over. I’m going to get laid tonight. She doesn’t even have to be good-looking; I don’t care. He said it a few times, and then, later, when you got there, he leaned over and whispered to me that he lucked out because you were goodlooking. In much cruder terms, nothing that I care to repeat now.” “Great,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So, your brother’s a premeditated rapist. You felt the need to come all the way out here to tell us that?” “Wren.” I squeezed her arm gently. “Let’s let him talk.” She pulled her arm away. “Why? So he feels better? Is that what this is about? You making some pilgrimage out here to make yourself feel less guilty?” Kevin shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t really know. It’s not so black and white. I wish it were.” “You’re basically coming out here and telling us that you knew what your brother was going to do, yet you decided to do nothing about it. Just sit there and be a bystander while

your brother did something really shitty to someone else.” “I’m not proud of how I handled it. And part of me just hoped that maybe the two of you would hit it off and you’d like him and he’d get what he wanted without feeling like he had to take something from you.” He shook his head. “I realize how ridiculous that all sounds. And I also realize how cowardly it was of me. There’s no excuse for it. I have a daughter of my own now, and I can’t stand the thought of her ever being around someone like my brother. But he was planning on doing something else, too. He was going to drive up to Boulder the next morning, go to the open air mall on 29th Street, and shoot as many people as he could. He’d gotten two AR-15s from this guy that was a friend of our father’s. Or used to be; he started to get really into all these government conspiracies, and my parents stopped seeing him. But Isaac didn’t, and he somehow got these two guns from him. I don’t know if he stole them or bought them from the guy or what—I didn’t ask. And I didn’t tell anyone because Isaac said he’d kill me if I did.” Wren folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. “So you thought it was better to let him go commit a mass shooting.” “I was scared. And I’m not proud of how I handled it. But that’s what Isaac was planning to do the very next day. He hadn’t told anyone but me. He didn’t want me to be a part of it, to go with him, but he couldn’t keep the thing to himself. He needed to share it with someone, and he knew that I wouldn’t tell anyone. He knew I’d keep his secret for him. Which I did. I always have, up until now.” Kevin took a deep breath and looked skyward. “And the reason I’m telling you now is because I want you to know that you did what I couldn’t do, even if you didn’t realize it. On more than one count. You prevented a sexual assault from happening, and you also prevented him from carrying out his plan. You might always feel guilty for taking a life, but by doing so, you spared a lot of other people.”

I could only stand there, my brain trying to process everything he said. Was he just making this up? It wouldn’t make sense for him to do that, so I had to believe it was true. Did that make a difference? Did it make me feel better that the person I had killed had been someone who was planning to do some awful things? “I realize this is a lot of information to just have confronted you with,” Kevin said. “And maybe it won’t make you feel any less guilty—I don’t know. But I have been plagued with guilt own my own because of my inability to do anything. It hasn’t ruined my life, but it’s come close because it’s changed the way I see myself, and not for the better.” It almost felt as though he needed me to absolve him from that, to say the words that might make his guilt go away. I didn’t know what words those were, though. I didn’t know if I felt any less guilty because of what he’d just said. “My parents thought that the worst thing in the world was Isaac getting killed,” Kevin said, “but they didn’t realize what he’d been planning to do. I could never tell them that. But if he’d done it, if he’d actually gone through with it—that would’ve been the end of them. There’s no way they would have been able to live with themselves. The details were sketchy enough with what happened between you two that they could tell themselves Isaac hadn’t been in the wrong; he’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They could feel bad for him as the victim because they didn’t know the details. Do I miss my brother? I do. I miss the brother I remember, not the one who seemed completely detached from society and just wanted to do harm to other people. I have a few good memories of him, and that’s what I miss.” “You never came forward with that?” Wren asked. “Why would I have? He was dead. He wasn’t going to be able to hurt anyone. I thought it was over with.” He looked at her, frowning. “You didn’t come forward, either. I

knew your first name, but I didn’t know your last, and I kept waiting for you to come forward, but that never happened. Until now, anyway.” The three of us stood there for a minute, no one saying anything. In the distance, way overhead, I could hear the sound of a plane. There were people in that plane, flying somewhere, maybe going home, maybe going on a vacation. It seemed strange to think of them tens of thousands of miles in the air, like it seemed to strange to think of the way that life just happened, how one decision can change the course of it all in an instant. The knowledge of what Keith had just said would take a long time to sink in, I knew, but I held my hand out to him. He hesitated and then shook it. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for coming out here to tell us this. I know that probably wasn’t easy.” “It wasn’t. But nothing is easy, and just for once, I wanted to do the right thing.” After he left, Wren and I just stood there, looking in the direction his car had just driven off in. “Did that just happen?” Wren asked. “Or was that some sort of extraordinarily realistic daydream?” “It wasn’t a daydream—that just happened. And I kind of feel bad for the guy.” “Why?” “I don’t know—he just looked so haunted. I mean, I believe him when he says that his guilt over the whole thing is eating him alive.” “I’m somehow finding it difficult to feel bad for him.” “That’s not what he was looking for. I don’t think he wanted us to pity him.” She bit her lower lip, a frown on her face. “Do you believe what he said? About his

brother planning to go shoot up a mall?” “I’m not sure. It doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing someone would make up. I believe that his brother told him he was going to do it; whether or not he would have, we don’t really have a way of knowing.” “But if he would have, you prevented that from happening.” Wren’s furrowed brow relaxed as she looked up at me. “And if that’s the case, then you saved a lot of people’s lives.” “Maybe. I don’t know.” And that was the thing—there was no way to know, because you couldn’t go back and change the past. But even if you could, I didn’t think I would. I pulled Wren to me, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. She smiled and slid her hands underneath my shirt, her palms warm on my lower back. “You’re my hero, you know,” she said. “And I mean that. I love you.” I squeezed her against me. “I love you, too.” Life had not been particularly easy so far, but maybe that was the point—if life, if love, weren’t hard, it would be easy to just take it for granted, to not appreciate it for what it really was.

Epilogue Wren Two years later Two minutes. That’s how long I was supposed to wait. Instead of just sitting there, though, and ticking the seconds off in my head, I got up and walked out into the living room. Summer was winding down, and it had definitely been a success, both here at the ranch and at the restaurant. I sat down on the couch and looked at the framed photo on the side table. It was of Ollie and me, six months ago, on our wedding. We got married here on the ranch, near the quarry, at sunset. The photo is of the two of us, the warm orange light bathing us both an almost ethereal glow. I wore a simple white A-line dress, something I’d found at the vintage shop and got for ten dollars. It was a rather small affair, and we had the reception at the restaurant. This past season was the first that Ollie had been running the ranch for Garrett and Marie—they’d decided to buy an RV and tour the country for a year. They’d be returning in the fall, and it was up in the air what their plan was after that. Ollie and I were living together in one of the cabins, and eventually, we’d move up to the main house. I looked out one of the windows and could see Ollie coming out of the barn. He’d be heading up to the house soon; the people he was supposed to take out on a ride had decided to go into town and do the ride tomorrow. I thought about waiting for him to get

up here and both of us look at the test, but then I decided I wanted to be able to tell him myself. And if it was negative, then I didn’t even need to mention that I’d taken it in the first place. But I’d felt strange for the past week or so, and my period was late, though it had been late before, and I hadn’t been pregnant. I went into the bathroom, knowing the two minutes had definitely passed. It was probably more like three. I took a deep breath and then reached over and picked the pregnancy test up off the counter. Two pink lines. I heard a creak as the screen door opened and then slapped shut, followed by a thumping as Ollie stomped his boots on the floor mat. “Wren?” he called out. I met him in the kitchen, the hand holding the pregnancy test behind my back. “Hey,” he said. He kissed me softly on the lips. “How’s everything?” The smile on my face got bigger. “Everything is great,” I said. “Actually, I have some exciting news.” “Oh, yeah?” I hadn’t told him that I was going to take a test; we weren’t actively trying to have a baby, but we also weren’t not trying, either. We’d talked about it and decided that if it happened, it did, and if not, that was okay too; we could be happy with it being just the two of us. And that was true—I knew I could be completely content if it were just him and me, and I had my restaurant and he had the ranch, and our little family was made up of just the two of us. That would have been perfectly fine, and I knew he felt the same way, too. But it looked like that wasn’t going to be the case after all.

Ollie was still looking at me expectantly. With a smile on my face, I held out the test and told him the good news.

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PROTECTOR BOX SET The Complete Series By Claire Adams This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams

PROTECTOR #1



“Absolutely ridiculous,” I muttered into my phone as I stomped across campus on the way to my first class of the day. “This is outrageous, Father! I don’t need a stupid bodyguard to follow me around all the time!” “Ava, you are being unreasonable,” Joseph Klein admonished. “Your mother and I feel it is a necessary precaution if you want to stay in school. Your safety is our primary concern.” “But lots of girls have ex-boyfriends who are idiots and their parents don’t hire bodyguards!” I yelled in exasperation. I was embarrassed that my parents had gone behind my back and hired this blockheaded mercenary to follow me around campus when I had assured them that there was no threat. “Who is this meathead anyway? How do you know he’s even capable of protecting me?” “Young lady, Mr. Flynn is a former Navy SEAL who has seen and done more in his life than you could ever dream of,”

my father replied. “He was recommended by a business colleague who used him to protect his son while he was on a study abroad session in Egypt, and they got along famously.” “Oh, big whoop,” I blurted. “So he’s buddy-buddy with some kid who spent a summer looking at sand and pyramids, and suddenly you think this is a great idea to emulate? That all kids should have bodyguards?” “We don’t trust Dominic,” came my father’s no-nonsense response. “End of argument, young lady. If you want to stay in school, then you accept that you will need protection until we deem it safe.” “Oh my God!” I cried. “I’m not 10 years old! I’m so sick of the way you treat me like I’m fragile. Why didn’t I have a say in this? You probably hired some old military guy who wishes he was back in Iraq, not guarding some college student who doesn’t need protection! Do I have to talk to him?” “Ava Marie Klein,” my father warned. “Mr. Flynn is an experienced personal security expert who is going to follow you

around campus until we’ve determined that there is no longer a threat. You will not be anything but absolutely polite to him, do you understand me?” “Fine!” I hissed. “I’ll deal with it, but this had better not go on the whole semester! It’s going to be humiliating to have to explain why I have some meathead following me everywhere, and my friends are going to think he’s spying on them, too!” “Cool the dramatics, young lady,” my father warned. “We’ve hired a young man who is experienced at this type of thing and knows how to be discreet. If you behave and follow directions, you probably won’t even know he’s there.” “Oh right,” I replied. “No one will notice the guy following me everywhere. Sure, sure.” “Ava,” my father’s voice dropped into the low range he used when he was warning me that he was about to run out of patience. “Okay, fine. I’ll behave like a good girl and let the big, bad

security detail sweep me off my feet and ensure my safe return to the castle,” I said in an airy tone designed to defuse the tension. “Young lady, you try my patience,” her father replied. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Do you need anything else?” “No, I’m fine, but —” I began, only to be met with the sound of the phone line disconnecting. ***** I sighed as I scanned the screen one more time before tucking the phone into my pocket. My father had said the security detail would meet me in front of Brody Hall, and I was fully expecting an old, grey-haired man with a crew cut, sunglasses, and a Secret Service suit to follow me all over campus before reporting back to my father. Hopefully, this charade of parental concern would only last a week or two and then I could go back to living a normal life on campus.

I scanned the front of the building, but didn’t see anybody who looked like an official bodyguard. The only person standing in front of Brody was a guy who looked too young and hot to have been hired by my father, and a small smile spread across my lips when I noticed the scowl on his handsome face as he checked his watch; whoever he was waiting for was going to get an earful, but from those lips it might not be so bad. When he looked back up, the scowl had disappeared, replaced by a raised eyebrow and pursed lips as he began to walk toward me. “Ava Klein? I’m Brian Flynn,” he said as he extended a large hand and waited for me to reciprocate. “You’re late.” “Excuse me?” I replied. “You’re late,” he repeated as he continued holding a hand out for me to shake. “I was told you’d be here at 8:30 am, and it’s now 8:42. That means you’re late.” I stood staring at this broad-shouldered man who was simultaneously trying to engage and scold me, and I shook as I tried to contain my rage. How dare he!

“You’re the guy who is going to follow me around?” My incredulous tone caused his scowl to return as he dropped his hand and stared at me. “My father hired you? You’re barely older than I am! How on earth does he think you’re going to protect me?” “I’m 32 and I’m not in the habit of having to explain myself to the people I’m hired to protect,” his voice cut through my mini temper tantrum, stopping it cold. “But yes, your father hired me to be in charge of your security while you’re on campus. As far as my credentials go, your father had me fully investigated and feels confident that I’m capable of protecting you, so you don’t have to worry about it.” “Fully checked out, eh?” I sarcastically replied as I rolled my eyes. “Well, I’m totally reassured. What exactly are your credentials, Mr. Flynn?” “I’ve got a degree in criminology from Michigan State, I’m certified in tactical force, personal protection, and close range weapons usage, and I’ve earned a black belt in karate,” he

dutifully ran down his resume while I looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “And I’m a former Navy SEAL; is that good enough for you, Ms. Klein?” “It seems as if you know what you’re doing,” I retorted. I was impressed with his background, but I wasn’t about to show him that given the way he’d tried to lecture me a few minutes before. “And now that we’ve gotten that worked out, just how long do you think you’ll be employing these outstanding credentials, Mr. Flynn?” “As long as it takes to ensure your safety,” he responded, and then added, “Ma’am.” Is he mocking me? I wondered as I looked more closely at my knight in a hoodie and Nike tennis shoes and thought, He looks like a total frat boy, but at least he’s easy on the eyes. “Fine,” I grudgingly conceded. “But you need to get something straight, right here and now. You work for me, and if I want to be late, I’ll be late, and you’ll shut up and follow. Got it?”

“Oh, I’ve got it, alright,” Brian said, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. That jerk! Is he laughing at me? I wondered as I glanced down at my watch and realized that class was about to start. I nodded, flipped my long brown hair over one shoulder, and turned toward the classroom, looking over my shoulder as I called back, “Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Now, let’s move, move, move soldier!” “That’s sailor, ma’am,” he quietly corrected. “What?” I was getting irritated. “Members of the Navy are sailors, not soldiers,” he explained. “Whatever! Just get a move on it or I’m going to be late to class!” I shouted at him over my shoulder as I picked up my pace and headed for my psychology class. I could hear him trailing behind me as I quick-stepped my way to class. My professor hated it when we were late, and he’d

threatened to lock the doors when Jessie and Lara arrived late for the second time that week. I didn’t think he’d do it, but I didn’t want to put that thought to a test. Behind me, he was silent. I felt like I should make some kind of conversation with him, but since I had no idea what to say. Besides, I was still pissed at both him and my father for engaging in this silly little exercise. I didn’t need a bodyguard, but it seemed that if I put up a fight, it would only make things more difficult. What I really wanted to do was dismiss him on the spot and then call my father and tell him to stay out of my business once and for all, but I knew from experience that telling my father to butt out was the best way to ensure that he had a hand in my business, albeit a distant one. As I walked briskly across campus, I kept looking back over my shoulder to see if the bodyguard was still there. What is his name? Brad? Brandon? Oh, yeah, Brian. Every time I did it, I felt like an idiot for caring whether he was there or not. After all, he was there to serve and protect me, not the other way

around. I couldn’t get a clear look at him as we trotted along, and as I replayed our little conversation, I felt like there was something familiar about the look in his eyes, but the thought slipped from my mind as the phone in my pocket began buzzing. I pulled it out and saw a message from Jess asking where I was. I quickly texted back, “On my way” and then stuffed the phone back in my pocket. Another look over my shoulder told me that Brian was still on my heels. We were almost in the center of campus now, and I was aware that people were looking at the odd paring of the Klein girl and the guy who was following her, but I’d grown used to the stares in my time at this school and I shrugged them off as I scanned the quad for Jessie and Lara. “Oh my God, Ava!” squealed Lara. “What is going on here? Who’s the hottie following you?” I rolled my eyes dramatically and sighed, “He’s a gift from my father. Jessie and Lara, meet Brian. Brian, meet Jessie and

Lara. They’re my best friends and they are do not pose a threat to my safety in any way.” “It’s nice to meet you, ladies,” Brian said as he nodded politely at them both and then with a wry grin added, “It’s good to know that I won’t have to use force on either of you.” “Oh, you can feel free to use force on me anytime!” Lara purred as she gave my bodyguard the once-over. “Lara!” I objected. “Do you always have to be in seduction mode?” “Well, he’s cute,” she pouted. “You know how I am around cute guys!” “You have got to be kidding me,” I said as I turned and gave Brian an apologetic look before addressing the girls. “I’m being followed by a guy who my father has hired to monitor my every move and you are talking about how hot he is and trying to flirt with him? What is wrong with you two?” “There’s nothing wrong with us, Ava,” Jessie interjected.

“We just appreciate his rugged good looks and his finely-tuned bod!” I peeked over at Brian and realized that he wasn’t listening to anything we were saying, but was instead scanning the quad area, presumably looking for potential threats to my safety. I rolled my eyes and looked back at Jess and Lara who were now whispering conspiratorially as they continued assessing Brian’s body and giggling about what they’d do with it. “So, what’s the deal with this guy?” Lara whispered. “My father thinks that this is the best solution to the Dominic problem,” I replied as I rolled my eyes. Lara and Jessie groaned as the three of us rolled our eyes. They’d grown up with me and knew how little interest my parents had taken in me unless it had to do with the family business or the family name, and while they knew that things hadn’t gone so well with Dominic, they didn’t know the whole story. No one did, and I preferred to keep it that way.

“Apparently he thinks that by bringing in the big guns, he’ll make me feel like he actually cares about my safety,” I told them in a matter-of-fact voice. “I say, whatever floats his boat. In two weeks he’s going to lose interest in trying to protect his little girl, and I’ll be able to ditch the security detail and go back to normal.” “Well, at least we’ll have something to look at while you’re waiting for your time in house arrest to be up!” Jessie squealed. “I’m not under house arrest, Jessie,” I corrected. “I’m simply being tailed 24/7. Big difference. If my father ever tried to keep me confined to my apartment, I’d totally lose it!” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot,” Jessie apologized. “Nah, it’s fine,” I brushed off her apology and turned to see what Brian was doing. His eyes constantly scanned the surrounding area and it was starting to creep me out a bit. I wasn’t worried about what Dominic was going to do, but Brian’s vigilant watch was already getting to me.

“Besides, you know that my father doesn’t know the first thing about me or what’s going on in my life anyway,” I asserted. “He’s just using this as a way to garner sympathy and use it to promote himself by claiming that his poor daughter is a victim of some crazy ex-boyfriend.” “He never met Dominic, did he?” Lara asked. “Nope,” I replied. “Never had time to stop in town and have dinner or anything.” “Man, I know my family is a mess, but your dad takes the cake, girl!” Lara’s sympathetic tone was almost more than I could handle, so I laughed lightly before turning and motioning them on to class. When we finally reached the classroom, I breezed right in and dropped my things on my usual desk before I turned around and noticed that Brian was nowhere to be seen. I slung my purse over my shoulder and headed back out the door, motioning to Jessie that I’d be right back.

“What’s the matter?” I asked when I found Brian leaning against the wall across the hall from the door to my Psych class. “Do you have something against psychology?” “Not as a tool of learning, but —” he replied. “But what?” I pushed. I noticed the way he avoided looking at me as he scanned the corridor, opened his mouth to speak, stopped and scanned again, and then closed his lips and shook his head. “Never mind,” he muttered. “No, that’s not fair!” I protested. “You don’t get to start to say something and then stop.” “Look, Ms. Klein,” he explained. “I’m here to ensure your safety, I’m not here to joke around and be your buddy. It’s best if you just act like I’m part of the surroundings rather than someone you can chat with, okay? It’s for your own good. Believe me.” “That’s about the most idiotic thing anyone has ever said to

me,” I shot back. I was angry that he’d cut me off when I was trying to be nice about this whole thing. After all, it was my privacy that was being invaded by his job, and I hadn’t asked him to do it. When I’m mad, I get very sarcastic, and I turned that on him as I asked, “So, are you going to sit in on class or is your bias too great to allow you to enter the room?” “Actually, I think it’s best if I don’t invade every aspect of your personal life,” he said as he fixed his steel blue eyes on my face. “I will secure the spaces you are in, and then I’ll back off and let you do your thing. During class, I’ll be out here in the hallway.” “And if I have to go to the bathroom?” I said in a snippy tone. “What are you going to do then?” “I’ve secured the bathroom on this floor, so you’re free to use it if you need to,” he replied in the same even tone. “Oh my God,” I laughed as I turned on my heel and headed back into the room. “You’re really taking this way too seriously.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ms. Klein,” he said in a voice tinged with the hint of sadness. When I snuck a look over my shoulder before I shut the door, I could see him scanning the hallway for the hundredth time, and murmured, “Well, you’re certainly vigilant, I’ll give you that.” ***** I tried to focus on Professor Blake’s lecture, but my mind was racing a mile a minute as I thought about how pissed I was at my father for forcing Brian on me. None of this would make any difference in our father-daughter relationship, whatever there was of that. It was true that we’d never been close, but he’d never played the “dad card” the way he was right now, so I was suspicious of all the sudden concern for my well-being. Something strange was going on with my parents, but I had no idea what it was. “Good morning, everyone,” began Professor Blake. “Today we’re covering chapter 23 in our textbook. We’ll be talking

about the evolutionary brain and how it relates to what has been commonly labeled Stockholm Syndrome. Now, can one of you who have read the chapter tell me what evolutionary brain function has to do with today’s topic?” “Hunter-gatherers were designed to solve certain problems!” came an eager response from the back of the room. “Correct, Justin,” replied Professor Blake. “And what was one specific problem that they had to solve, specifically the problem that women had to solve?” “Abduction of women would be used as a mechanism of asserting strength and increasing the size of a tribe, and women who resisted would often be subjected to deadly violence so they had to learn to give in without actually giving in, if that makes sense.” As usual, Lara summarized the issue in a succinct sentence. “Very good, Lara!” Professor Blake exclaimed. As I looked over my shoulder and gave Lara a thumbs up, I

caught sight of Brian standing guard out in the hall, and again, my blood began to boil as I reminded myself that my father, the one who was so overly concerned with my safety, had never even met Dominic. Come to think of it, my father had never made the time to come to campus and see what was going on or even offer to come see me. Instead, every year he’d assign one of his minions to pack up the car, drive me to school, and drop me off in my dorm room, and the night before he’d come in and hand over cash, one new credit card for all my school expenses, and another one “for fun,” he’d say with a wink and a nod, then I’d roll my eyes and tuck the cards in my wallet. It became our yearly ritual. Sometimes during the year, I’d fly to New York and go on a huge shopping spree just to see what he’d say when he got the bill, but he never said anything; not even when I spent over $15,000 on clothes and shoes in one trip to Dior. I’m not sure he even noticed. “What do you think, Ava? Do you agree with Jessie?”

Professor Blake’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me away from my family and bringing me back to the classroom. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” I apologized as I turned beet red from the embarrassment of being caught off guard. “Ah ha, I see,” he nodded and then rephrased the question. “What is the base definition of Stockholm Syndrome? What makes it so powerful?” “That the victim finds a way to identify with the abductor and actually falls for him,” I said without hesitation. “Good, good!” he encouraged. “Can you tell me more about it, Ava? What’s the danger?” “That the captive empathizes so much with the abductor that they see the abuse as kindness…” my voice trailed off. “Yes! Excellent answer, Ava!” Professor Blake crowed as he turned his attention back to the whiteboard at the front of the room, where he began writing terms and asking other students to

define them. I sat quietly, listening to my classmates calling out the answers to questions the professor asked in rapid fire, and wondered if Brian was still out in the hallway. I quickly turned to check and caught his eye before he turned and scanned the corridor again. I wasn’t scared, but something felt off, and I didn’t know what it was. ***** “What did he say about the exam, Ava?” Lara was tugging on the back of my shirt. “Did he say it was 50 percent of our grade?” “No, he said the essay would be 50 percent of the exam grade,” I answered in an irritated tone. “God, Lara! Would you just slow down and listen every once in a while?” Lara’s pouty lower lip told me that I’d hit a nerve, so when I finished packing up my things, I stood and put an arm around

the tiny redhead and said, “C’mon, cheer up! You answered so many questions right today that you’re bound to be on Professor Blake’s good side. I’m sure he’ll cut you slack on the essay.” “I did do a good job, didn’t I?” Lara chirped, and my scolding was completely forgotten - or at least, forgiven. Brian was waiting outside of the classroom, but I ignored him as I linked arms with the girls and said, “Let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving!” Lara and Jessie enthusiastically agreed that burgers were just what we needed, so we headed over to Five Guys and proceeded to polish off enough food to keep us full while we studied all afternoon. Halfway through the meal, Jessie elbowed me and quietly asked if we should order something for Brian. I shrugged and felt a little guilty, but when I turned toward him, I saw he was positioned in a corner table eating his lunch while scanning the premises for any threats. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the girls. “Apparently he can take care of himself,” I reported with just a hint of sarcasm.

I’m not sure why I felt so angry at Brian. He’d had nothing to do with the situation and he was only doing the job he’d been hired to do. My real beef was with my father, so I vowed to refrain from taking it out on Brian anymore. I’d just ignore him and go about my life as I had before he’d arrived. If he was really good at his job, he’d find a way to keep up with me. For the rest of the day I tried to ignore the large, muscled man tagging after me, but the people around me made it difficult as they gave me funny looks and then stopped to whisper to each other as they looked back and forth between me and Brian. It didn’t faze me too much since I’d grown up in a family with money and was used to being stared at, but the attention that Brian brought was on a whole other level. His handsome good looks caused women to literally stop and stare, and then when they noticed that he was walking a few feet behind me, they’d make a comment about me just loud enough for me to hear. The last straw for me was when I stopped in the bookstore to pick up the study guide for the Psych exam and overheard

two of the cashiers talking about me. Their backs were turned to the registers, so they didn’t see me walk up behind them and place my items on the counter. “I heard the bodyguard was hired to ensure that no one talks to her unless she acknowledges them,” whispered the girl with the mousy brown hair to her friend, a tall blonde with a buzz cut and a pierced nose. “Oh, I heard it was because she carries so much cash on her that it’s dangerous for her to be out in public!” the blonde replied excitedly as she twisted the ring in her nostril. I cleared my throat and looked away, embarrassed that I’d overheard them. The mousy girl spun around and I watched as the color drain from her face, and wondered if she was going to faint. “I’m…I’m…I’m…so sorry!” she stammered. “It’s okay,” I said shrugging. “It happens all the time.” She rang up my purchase without saying anything. She

didn’t even tell me the total, so I slid my card through the reader and punched in the code. I could see her searching for something to say that would erase the shame of having been caught talking about me, but I had nothing to offer because I was so aggravated by Brian’s presence and the fact that he was the reason this was happening. And then it came to me. As I grabbed my bag off of the counter, I leaned in and quietly said, “Actually, neither theory is correct. He’s an actor friend of my dad’s who is researching a role for a movie. It’s annoying, but you know…” and I turned and shrugged toward Brian. The girl said nothing, she simply nodded as I swung the bag off the counter and walked out the front door. The whole way back to my dorm, I fumed about my father’s decision to upend my life on campus and give people yet another reason to stare at me and talk about me. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized she’d forgotten to give me a receipt, but I wasn’t terribly annoyed because on the walk home my resentment had morphed

into a plan to get rid of Brian and get my father to leave me alone. ***** Around 8 o’clock, I stuck my head out the door of my dorm room, and sure enough, Brian was standing in the hallway scanning the premises as usual. “Hey, I’m planning to head out for a run,” I told him. “Care to join me?” “Only if you’re going to head over to the track,” he replied. “It’s the only place I can guarantee your safety.” “Oh my God!” I shouted. “Would you please knock it off with the stupid guaranteed safety stuff? You sound like an ad for medical alert devices or something — and I’m not old!” “Just doing my job, Ms. Klein,” he replied, but I swore I could see a hint of a smile forming around the edge of his lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I replied, waving him off like a pesky fly. “Fine, we’ll go over to the track and run. Happy now?”

“It’s not about my happiness, ma’am,” he responded seriously. “It’s about your safety.” “Argh!” I let out an exasperated sigh as I slammed the door to my room and went to change into my running clothes. I emerged 10 minutes later ready to do some good, hard running to work off the frustration I’d been feeling all day, and eager to see if my plan would work. Brian followed close behind me, not speaking, just maintaining a close watch on our surroundings. When we entered the gate surrounding the track, he held up a hand and made me walk behind him as he checked out the area before signaling it was safe for me to run. My irritation with this whole setup was palpable, and I had half a mind to tell him how incredibly ridiculous it was getting, but then I remembered my plan so I shut up and rolled my eyes as I stretched. Once I was warmed up, I looked over at Brian to get the go-ahead; he nodded, and I took off at a slow pace. Thankfully he didn’t run with me.

Instead, he continued scanning the area as he perched on the bleachers and maintained surveillance of the entire area. I rolled my eyes again at his vigilance and picked up my pace. It felt good to let off some of the steam that had been building all day, and after a couple of laps, I felt warmed up enough to begin devising a way to put my plan into action. The bright lights that illuminated the track reached into the dark edges of the field and then tapered off past the fence line. I made note of the trees and shrubs surrounding the fence, thinking that they’d provide excellent cover. I picked up my pace and ran a little faster as my mind raced. I knew I could do it; the question was whether Brian would figure out what I was doing in enough time to stop me. I decided that the risk was worth the payoff, and on my sixth lap around the track, I broke into a dead run heading for the darkness lining the fence on the opposite side of the field. I knew it had to be more than six feet high, but I felt certain that I’d be able to clear it quickly, and I was right. It took less than 15 seconds for me to scale the fence and

drop down on the other side. From the other side of the field, I heard Brian cursing up a storm as he tore after me, yelling, “Ava! Stop! This isn’t a smart thing to do!” And then “Dammit!” when I didn’t heed his warning. When I looked over my shoulder to see where he was, I knew there was a good chance he’d catch up to me if I didn’t run full speed, so I put my head down and ran into the darkness as hard and fast as I could. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, all I knew was that I needed to get away from Brian, and away from the reminder that my father didn’t care about how I felt about anything. ***** I could feel the ground beneath my feet as I ran, and the night air provided some refreshing relief as I pumped my legs as hard as I could hoping that, since Brian didn’t know the campus as well as I did, he wouldn’t be able to catch up with me. I ran past Brody Hall and then up the hill toward the administration

building. My legs were burning as I took the steps two at a time, but it was a good burn that made me feel strong and fast. I circled around to the back side of the building and ran down the steps toward the path alongside the river that ran through the center of campus. The farther I ran, the harder it became to keep the negative thoughts at bay, and tears of self-pity began to well up in my eyes. I fought them for about a half a mile, and then I let them flow warm and wet down my cheeks as I tried to outrun the pain of everything that had happened over the past year. I learned my lesson! I started over! Why do I have to be singled out as different? Why don’t you care about me? The thoughts raced through my brain as I ran. I felt sorry for myself, but I also felt angry. Angry that my father never talked to me. Angry that he and my mother didn’t seem to want me around. And angry that I couldn’t talk to anyone about what had happened in my life. The darkness wrapped itself around me as I ran the river path, not noticing where I was or caring where I was headed. All

I cared about was leaving Brian and my father behind me. I ran until my lungs felt like they would burst and my legs felt like two lead poles, but even then, I didn’t stop. When I finally tired enough to slow down and take stock of my surroundings, I realized I was on the outer edge of the library building. I’d run out my frustration and felt bad that I’d left Brian had no clue where I was. If my father found out, Brian would be put through the ringer, maybe even fired. And as much as I wanted to ditch the security detail, I didn’t wish my father’s angry tantrum on Brian. I didn’t need to carry the burden of feeling responsible for yet another man in my life, so I decided to turn around and head back to the track. Hopefully Brian would have gone back there to wait for me once he realized he wasn’t going to be able to follow my lead. At the corner of the library, I turned left and hit something with such force that I found myself sprawled out on the ground on my back, trying to suck air back into my lungs. The force with which I’d hit whatever had been blocking my path had

knocked the wind out of me and left me seeing stars. What the hell just happened? Did I hit my head on the sidewalk? I wondered as I looked up into the face of the one person I thought I’d never see again. “Aren’t you out a little late, Ava?” the sinister voice slithered its way into my ears and made me shudder. “Nice girls like you shouldn’t be out running around in the dark, you never know who you’ll run into.” When I was finally able to take a deep breath and refill my lungs, I looked up and saw Dominic standing over me. Illuminated in the artificial glow of the halogen lights outside the library, he looked almost ghostly. His blond hair glowed and his ice blue eyes had a sickly shine. He was holding out his hand and smiling that same crazy smile he’d had on his face when I walked out the door of his apartment after telling him I’d never come back. I ignored his hand, took another deep breath, and quickly pushed myself back up to my feet as I moved away from his creepy smile. I didn’t move fast enough, though, and before I

knew it, he had his hands wrapped tightly around my upper arms as he stared at my face. “Ava, you know how much I still love you, don’t you?” his voice had that psychotic pleading tone to it. The one that I knew would lead to nothing good if I didn’t escape his grasp. “I know you do, Dominic,” I said in a soothing voice. “I know you think you love me, but you don’t. You know that, don’t you? This isn’t love.” “I’ve always loved you, Kitten. Always,” he repeated. I hated that nickname, it always made me feel like a small, helpless creature, and now his icy blue eyes were fixed on me. I felt like prey for the predator. “You have always been the center of my world and I’ve always loved you.” “Dominic —” I began. “We used to be so good together, Ava!” he cried. “We used to do things and laugh and have fun, don’t you remember? We could be like that again, but you have to come back!”

“Dominic, you and I broke up because you cheated on me!” I yelled. “That was nothing! It was a meaningless fling with some bimbo from my English class. She meant absolutely nothing to me. I swear!” his grip on my arm grew tighter and his voice took on a menacing tone. “I never loved anyone but you, Ava. You were the only one I loved. You are the only one I will ever love.” I shook my head as I frantically looked for someone to come out of the library and intervene, but the more I fought him, the harder he dug his fingers into my arms to make his point. “Why won’t you take me back?” he whined. “Dominic, you’re hurting me!” I cried out as he brought his fingers together and pinched the skin of my upper arm, and I knew he wasn’t going to let go unless I saw his point of view. “I just don’t understand. I gave you everything! I loved you! I took care of you! I worshipped the ground you walked

on! And you just left me. Alone.” “Dominic, that wasn’t love, that was the opposite of love,” I took a deep breath and tried to find a calm tone, hoping that if I reasoned with him, he’d remember how things had ended and let me go. “We weren’t in love anymore. You found someone else and it was too painful for me to see you so happy, don’t you remember?” “I remember none of that. All I remember is how much you meant to me and how lonely I’ve been since you left,” his tone grew morose, and he sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down. “You have to come back. I can’t live without you. You must come back.” “Dominic, I can’t come back,” I quietly reminded him. “We can’t be together.” “Yes, yes we can!” he cried as he shook me by my arms. “We can, and we will, be together. And I’m not going to give up until you come back to me. Until we’re back together. We belong together, Kitten. You and me.”

“Dominic, stop calling me that! I’m not coming back,” I stood my ground and tried to reason with him, but there was something desperate about the way he was trying to convince me to return to him, and it was his desperation that scared me. “Well, I want you to come back, and sooner or later you’ll want to come back,” his voice dropped to a calm tone that scared me even more than the pleading. “I will not give up on you.” “Let go of me, Dominic,” I said as evenly as possible, hoping that my voice sounded stronger than I felt. “I will never let go of you, Ava,” he whispered, as he leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “And if I can’t have you, then I will make sure that no one else will.” ***** “Let go of her!” Brian’s voice bounced off the stone walls as he rounded the corner and saw Dominic holding me as I struggled to break free. He pointed his pistol at Dominic and

calmly repeated, “Let go of her. Now.” Shocked that I’d been followed, Dominic let go of my arm and turned to confront my defender, but he took one look at the gun in Brian’s hand and backed away. “Hey man, don’t shoot,” he immediately switched to the friendly guy-to-guy manner he had when he talked with his buddies, and even laughed a little as he assured my rescuer, “We were just talking about old times.” “The time for talking is over,” Brian replied as he aimed the pistol at Dominic’s stomach. “It’s time for you to scram.” “Hey, don’t get your boxers in a bunch, buddy!” Dominic joked as he looked over at me with narrowed eyes, and quietly muttered so that only I could hear him. “This isn’t over yet.” “Get out of here!” Brian boomed, and Dominic turned and took off, running toward the quad. As I stood there watching him disappear into the darkness, I heard Brian quietly ask, “I’m guessing that was the ex, right?

Are you okay?” I turned and looked at him for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry,” I said quietly as the tears began to well up in my eyes. “I was stubborn and I didn’t believe the threat was real, so I thought I could take care of myself.” “Hey, hey, hey,” Brian interjected as he patted my shoulder. “It’s all good. I’m fully trained in hide and seek, so I knew I could find you.” “I know, but I didn’t know he’d be out here following me, too.” I looked up into Brian’s face as I quickly wiped away the few tears that had run down my cheeks. “I feel stupid now.” “It’s okay, he’s gone and you’re safe,” Brian reassured me. “Do you want to go back to the dorm?” I considered the question more seriously than I would have a few hours ago, and then said, “No, I don’t feel safe going back to the dorm. At least not until he’s chilled out a bit. He knows where I live, and the last time he showed up there it was ugly.”

“Then let me take you somewhere safe tonight,” he suggested. “We’ll make sure he can’t find you, and then we’ll figure out a plan for how to take care of the threat.” “Yes, sir, General!” I laughed weakly as I saluted. “It’s Admiral, and your salute is sloppy,” he deadpanned. “Now, let’s get moving, I’ve got a place in mind, but you’ll probably need to stop and pick up a few things before we head out, right?” “No, I’m okay,” I said softly. “I know how to travel light.” “Well, once we get you situated, I can always come back and pick up your things later,” he said as he gently guided me toward the lot where he’d parked his black SUV. ***** I sat quietly staring out the passenger side window as Brian drove. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what Dominic would do next. Would he actually hurt me? Was he capable of such a thing? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m taking you to a hotel that I know has solid security,” Brian’s voice interrupted my racing thoughts. “I’ve arranged for a suite where I can monitor what’s going on while still giving you some privacy, okay?” “What? Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” I replied, my thoughts still on what Dominic might do. “What’s his deal, anyway?” Brian asked. “The guy seems more than a bit obsessed. What happened between the two of you?” “He was never like this before.” I was annoyed by the question because I couldn’t answer it. “I mean, he’s written notes and called asking me to come back, but he’s never approached me since the breakup and he’s certainly never attacked me. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” “There has to be some reason that things have changed,” he mused. “Has something in his life changed recently?” “How would I know?” I shot back defensively. “I broke up

with the guy and we’re not BFFs!” “I know, but something had to have changed if he’s getting more obsessed with you,” he continued. “Look, I have no clue what’s going in with Dominic, and if I did, I’d tell you,” I lied. I knew I was dangerously close to spilling the whole story, but I also knew that if I did, Brian would go running back to my father and tell him everything. It wasn’t that I cared so much about whether my father knew or not, it was the fact that I knew if the whole story came out there would be hell to pay, and it would become another way for my father to manipulate people and make it all about himself. I just wanted to put it all behind me and move on with my life. “You’re sure about that?” he said as he turned into the drive of the hotel and pulled up to the front door. He put the SUV in park, but left the engine running. He opened the door and got out, but before he shut the door, he quietly said, “Because I’m not.” It didn’t take long for Brian to register and since I didn’t

have any luggage, we were soon on the elevator headed up to a large suite on the top floor of the hotel. I watched Brian out of the corner of my eye as the elevator ascended. Although he seemed calm on the outside, I could see him scanning the interior of the small space the same way he’d done down in the lobby, on the track, and everywhere else. “What’s up with the scanning?” I blurted out. “Huh?” he seemed genuinely confused by the question. “I’ve noticed that you are constantly in scan mode” I said cautiously. “Even when it’s not really necessary, like now.” “Oh,” he dropped his eyes to the floor and didn’t look up. “I’m not judging or anything,” I offered. “I’m just asking why you’re constantly doing it.” “Dunno,” he shrugged as he stared at the floor. I could see that a wall had gone up, but I had no idea how to scale it, so I stopped asking and went back to analyzing my own situation. Figuring out what Dominic was going to do next

wasn’t going to be easy; he’d become less predictable since I’d left and it scared me to know that he had tracked me down on campus. How else would he have known where to find me? And as I thought about it more, I realized that the only way he could have found me would have been if he had been following me. The thought made me shudder. “You cold?’ Brian asked as the elevator doors slid open. He stepped out into the hall and scanned the corridor before motioning me forward. “No, just thinking,” I replied as I stepped in behind him and followed him down the hall to the suite. He unlocked the door, held up a hand indicating I should stay in the hall, then quickly made his way through the rooms, turning on lights as he went. Thirty seconds later, he was back at the door motioning me to come in and shut the door behind me. It all felt very covert, and I looked at him skeptically as he moved toward the windows and pulled the curtains closed. “Your room is over here,” he opened the door connecting

one of the bedrooms to the main area and waved me over. “You’re probably pretty tired, so I’ll let you get some sleep.” “Okay,” I said as I headed toward my room. Once inside, I turned and called out, “Brian?” “Yes?” came his immediate response. “I don’t think I can…I mean, I’m not…Would you just stay?” I stammered. “Sure thing,” he smiled as came back into the room. He pulled the curtains apart a bit and checked outside before sitting down in the big chair by the window. “What’s on your mind?” “Why do you always do that?” I asked. “Do what?” “You’re always scanning and checking and looking for things,” I said. “Well, it’s part of my job. I’m supposed to make sure that any threat is neutralized, and that you’re safe.”

“But it’s more than that,” I argued. “It’s like you’re never not on.” “I guess I always am,” he shrugged. “But that’s not what you want to talk about is it?” “What do you mean?” “Why is Dominic after you? What happened between you two?” His honest question caught me off guard, but I quickly recovered and began telling the story that I’d told everyone who’d ever asked. “Yeah, well, I’m not entirely sure what happened aside from the fact that I broke up with him when I caught him cheating on me,” I recited the scrubbed version so many times that it felt like the truth. “We were fine until that happened, and then he just kind of lost it. He started writing me and following me around trying to convince me to come back, and when I refused, he started to get more forceful.” Brian sat watching me from across the room, his eyes like

lasers, and I suddenly felt more exposed than I ever had in my life. I looked away, focusing my gaze on the couch in the other room as I talked. I told him about how Dominic had shown up in my dorm one evening, pleading and begging. “He’d wanted me to come home with him, but something felt off, and when I said no, he became enraged. My suite mates had finally called the police and they’d hauled him out the dorm, but didn’t arrest him because his father had even more money and power than mine, and was a big university donor.” I rolled my eyes dramatically to show him how little respect I had for all the money and power. “The next day, I went down to the court and filed a personal protection order, but I knew that it was just a piece of paper and that if he really wanted to get to me, it wouldn’t stop him. And then Dominic disappeared. I had no idea what had happened to him, but when my father got wind of the incident and asked about what had happened, I told him. He didn’t say anything more about it, and then he hired you. And that’s my sad tale of woe. Poor little rich

girl, eh?” “That’s a lovely story,” Brian said. “What?” I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly. “It’s really nicely constructed and well-rehearsed, I’ll give you that,” he replied. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I yelled. “Sure you do,” he countered. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. That’s the story you’ve told your parents and all the nosy people who’ve tried to pry into your personal life, but it’s a lie. You know it, and you know I know it.” “I…I…I…” I stuttered as I tried to find a way to cover my vulnerability. He’d seen past my carefully constructed mask and was calling me out. “Ava, look, I’m not here to spy on you or rat you out to your parents,” he said with an earnest sincerity. “I’m here to make sure that Dominic doesn’t hurt you, that’s it. My whole job is to protect you, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what kind of

enemy I’m up against. You need to come clean if I’m going to be able to do my job.” “I…I…I can’t,” I whispered. “Yes, you can,” he replied as he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he cupped my chin with his large hand and tipped my face up so that I was looking him in the eye. “You can’t escape a nightmare until you tell someone about it, and I’m the person who can help you leave it behind.” “How on earth would you know anything about a nightmare!” I yelled. “You know nothing about this!” “Maybe not this particular nightmare,” he said quietly as he held my gaze. “But believe me, I know about nightmares. So, tell me. Let me help you escape. Please, Ava?” ***** I stared silently at Brian as my brain frantically searched for a way to explain my way out of the spotlight he’d just shone on my story. It wasn’t that I’d lied to anyone, it was more that I’d

committed the sin of omission, and in doing so, thought that I’d fooled everyone into believing that things weren’t nearly as bad as they’d actually been. Everyone around me had wanted to believe my story, and I knew that the reality of the situation was more than they could handle, so I told them only small details and left out the big, scary parts. My parents didn’t ask at all, so I didn’t even have to omit anything. We just didn’t speak. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted even as the tears began to leak from the corners of my eyes. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine!” “Ava,” Brian’s voice was soft as he continued cupping my chin, refusing to let me look away. “It’s okay. It’s safe to talk about it here with me. I promise.” “You wouldn’t understand,” I whispered. “Try me.” I looked up into his steely blue eyes and saw something so familiar there that I had to look away. When I looked back up at

him, the steel had been replaced by a softer expression, and something in me broke. I took a deep breath and began to tell the whole story; the real one. “Dominic and I met during Rush Week,” I began. “He was trying to get into the Fiji house, and I thought the entire week was a joke. We both come from families with enormous wealth, and so we bonded over our rich kid isolation. I know, pathetic, isn’t it?” “I’m not going to judge you, Ava,” he said softly. “I’m just listening.” “I didn’t have to explain things to him about my family—all the weird things that no one else understands—so it felt good to be with him, and after a few weeks, it just felt like we were supposed to be together,” I had never admitted that to anyone, not even to myself. “But I knew there was something off about him. In the first couple of weeks we’d been seeing each other, he’d gotten arrested for fighting with another guy at a frat party, and once he was released from jail, he’d disappeared for a few

days. When he came back, he just said he’d been ‘summoned home by the big guy,’ which was our code for when one of our fathers wanted to have a word with us. We lived in a cocoon; buffered by money and our shared isolation, but I liked him because he paid attention to me—close attention—and he was nothing like my father.” As I’d begun telling my story, Brian had backed up and given me some space. He now sat with his back against the headboard, his arm resting on his bent knee while his other leg hung off the side of the bed. It was a constructed pose that was designed to look very casual and relaxed, but the tension in his jaw told me otherwise. “It started small; he’d joke about summoning me home and I’d show up at his apartment.” I cringed as I began telling the story of the slow and steady descent into the darkness of our relationship. “But if I didn’t show up quickly, he’d pepper me with texts and phone calls asking where I’d been and who I’d been with. He said it was because he was worried about me and

he wanted to make sure I was safe.” Brian nodded as he connected the dots between his presence and my resistance to the whole safety routine. I wasn’t sure how much of the rest of the story I wanted to tell him, but when I looked up at him he said, “Tell the truth, Ava. Just tell the truth.” “I was flattered by his attention. My whole life I had felt like an inconvenience to my parents. They’d shipped me off to boarding school in third grade, and I hadn’t lived in any house for more than a month at a time; often times, my parents weren’t even there. It was just me and the staff, and maybe a friend or two if they weren’t traveling with their own families,” I explained as the sadness crept up and wound itself around me. “Dominic was always there. He’d call me in the middle of the night just to tell me he missed me or he’d drop by my classroom to give me flowers or tell me a story about his day. There wasn’t anything menacing about it at all. He looked out for me and took care of me in a way that my parents had never done, and I felt… loved. I know that sounds ridiculous to someone who grew up

with parents who loved them, probably like yours did, right?” I looked over at Brian as he nodded slowly and then shifted his gaze away from my face. There was something going on, but I was too deep into my story to stop and find out, so I continued. “Halfway through our second semester, I moved out of the dorm and into his apartment,” I shifted my body so that my knees were drawn up to my chest with my arms tightly wrapped around them. I felt as if I were standing on the edge of a terrifying abyss, as I had never told anyone what I was about to tell Brian. “Dominic was so sweet when I moved in. He took me shopping for all our household items and we picked out new bedding and sheets and towels. It was like we were married. And he was so attentive and kind in those first new days that I didn’t notice the change. Have you ever been to a lobster boil, Brian?” “No?” he replied with a perplexed look on his face. “What does that have to do with anything?” “If you really want to boil a lobster the right way, do you

know how you do it?” I asked quietly. “I really hadn’t thought about it,” he said. “You put the heat on low, put the lobsters in the pot, and then gradually raise the temperature until the water boils,” I explained in a soft voice. “That way they don’t know what’s happening until it’s too late.” Surprise and recognition flashed across Brian’s face as he processed the story I was telling, then he nodded and said, “I imagine it’s more humane for the lobsters, right?” “Maybe, but I’ve always thought it was tremendously sad to betray them that way; to use what they are familiar with to end their lives,” I sighed. “It feels horribly sad.” “Yes, I imagine when you look at it that way, it is sad,” he echoed. “As time went on, he got more and more possessive, but I was too blind to see that it was because the temperature was being turned up all around me,” my voice broke a little. “I

would come home and find him pacing the apartment, worried to death that something had happened to me, so I’d comfort him and make sure he was okay, and that usually meant having sex. I got to be an expert at knowing exactly what kind of mood he’d be in depending on the text or phone call, and then I’d know precisely what I’d have to do when I got home. In some ways it was really easy because he was so predictable, but that also made him so much more dangerous. About three months after I’d moved in was the first time he hit me.” “He hit you?” Brian’s voice was calm, but his jaw was tight and tense. “He did, but he always made it seem like it was my fault. He would explain it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and I’d find myself agreeing with him,” I said. “The memory of that first night is the most painful one because, in retrospect, I can see where it was all headed, but at the time, I was too naive and trusting. He’d followed me around campus that day, and he found me in the quad talking with a guy from

my Chem class. He wasn’t someone I’d ever talked to before, and we had been double-checking our study guides because we had an exam coming up. Dominic showed up on the quad and ‘caught’ us. I introduced him and told him what we were doing, and he was so incredibly charming and funny that I didn’t give it another thought. In fact, I remember thinking how lucky I was to have a boyfriend who was so friendly and warm. What a fool I was.” “So, he shows up and acts all nice to the guy, and then what?” Brian probed. “When I got home later that afternoon, all hell broke loose,” I looked down, dropped one arm, and began picking at the bedspread. “He was in a rage. He interrogated me about the guy on the quad—Dave? Doug? I can’t even remember his name now. Anyway, he accused me of sneaking around behind his back and seeing other guys. I was shocked because that had never even occurred to me. Not once. I was happy with him, and happy in our home together, and I told him that, but he refused

to believe me. He went on and on about how I was betraying him while I tried my best to show him all the ways in which I wasn’t. That’s when I started to get mad and tell him that if he didn’t believe me, then maybe I should leave. Big mistake.” “Why? What happened?” “The minute I said I was going to leave, he lunged at me, grabbed my arm, and gripped me so tightly that I had an imprint of his hand on my bicep for a week. He shook me and told me never ever to tell him that I was leaving again. He said that I couldn’t leave him, that he was the only one in the world who would ever love me this much and that no one else would want a girl whose father didn’t love her because it meant that she was damaged and worthless.” My voice was shaking as I repeated the words that had played over and over in my head for the past year. I’d never told anyone what Dominic had said, but I’d played his voice back again and again, wondering if he had been right about me. “When I started crying, he yelled at me to shut up and stop being such a stupid baby, and when I didn’t, he…”

“He what, Ava?” Brian’s voice was low and gentle. “What did he do?” “He slapped me across the face and then told me to go wash my face and get dinner started or there would be hell to pay.” My breath was coming fast and rapid as I remembered. “It was the first time Dominic had shown his ugly side, but it was far from the last. And it got worse; so much worse, but after every episode, he’d cry and apologize and tell me he only got jealous because he loved me so much and was so afraid of losing me. He would shower me with gifts and flowers, and we’d take a trip together or go shopping for something new for the apartment. He was always so incredibly kind and sweet after one of his outbursts, and I was confused. I couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong because I wasn’t doing anything. It got to the point where I didn’t even want to go to classes anymore because I was afraid of what would happen if someone tried to talk to me in class. I was scared and paranoid and totally dependent on him.” “What a total asshole,” Brian quietly fumed. “He blamed

his own insecurity on you and used it to keep you prisoner.” “You know, this morning we were talking about Stockholm Syndrome in my Psych class, and I felt this cold wave of fear wash over me. That was me. I totally identified with him and felt sorry for him because he’d had such an awful upbringing,” I explained. “He’d been raised by a father who was practically a drill sergeant, and who had terrorized his kids with exercises at dawn and long runs in the middle of the hot California summer. It was brutal, and he had been totally traumatized by it, so I felt bad for him.” “Lots of people are traumatized by jerks like his father,” Brian grumbled. “But they don’t become psychopathic abusers.” “Look, I’m not excusing him, I’m just saying that he had problems to begin with, and I made the perfect target for his rage,” I continued. “It got worse, to the point that there was a period of about month when I didn’t leave the apartment at all. I curled up in the bedroom and ignored everyone except Dominic, who would call or text every 15 minutes just to make sure I

hadn’t gone anywhere with anyone.” “Jesus, he kept you a prisoner!” Brian shouted as he jumped off the bed and began pacing the room. I wrapped my arms tightly around my legs and pressed my forehead against my knees as I squeezed my eyes shut and gently rocked. Brian immediately noticed the change, stopped his pacing, and said, “I’m sorry, Ava. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” “I’m not scared of you, Brian,” I mumbled. “I’m scared of what Dominic might be capable of, and I have no idea what that is.” “How did you get away from him?” he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed and gently patted my foot. “I walked out,” I laughed bitterly. “He cheated on me, and I found out, so I walked out the door and never looked back. How cliché is that? I mean, the guy belittles me, hits me, and basically breaks down every part of me, but I don’t get mad

enough to leave until he cheats on me with another woman? What a fool I was.” “You’re not a fool, Ava,” Brian consoled. “Lots of people go through what you did and never find it in themselves to leave. But you left. You found a way to make yourself safe and you left him.” I looked up at him with tears running down my face and shook my head as I spoke in a small voice, “But he’s never going to let me get away. Don’t you see? He’s obsessed with me, and I’m never ever going to be free of him.” “Yes, you are.” “No, no, I’m not,” I whispered. “If he can’t have me, he’s going to kill me.” Brian swiftly climbed on to the bed and wrapped his strong arms around my weeping frame and said, “No, he’s most definitely not going to do that.” “How do you know?” I cried.

“Because if he harms even one hair on your head, I will make sure it’s the last thing he ever does,” he promised in a tense voice as he tightened his arms around me, and for the first time in more than a year, I took a deep breath and relaxed. ***** We stayed that way for a long time. Brian’s arms felt so strong and warm wrapped around me, and when he rested his chin on the top of my head, I’d never felt safer in my entire life. I felt stiff from having been tensed up for so long, and as Brian ran one hand down my back, I began to relax a little. I didn’t know what to say now; I felt like I’d just put myself through the ringer by telling the story, but Brian had been right, it had felt good to get it out. Somehow, sharing my experience with him had made me feel so much less alone, and all of the awful things that Dominic had done started to belong to him, not me. I wasn’t responsible for his horrible behavior or his violent need to control me. He, and he alone, was responsible for that. Thinking about Dominic sent a shiver up my spine.

“It’s okay,” Brian murmured. “You’re safe, I promise. You’re safe with me.” I exhaled slowly as I lifted my head and tried to stretch my legs. They’d been crushed up against my chest for so long that they’d fallen asleep, and I couldn’t unbend them. Brian let go of me, leaned back, and gently pulled one leg and then the other out, so that for the first time in hours, I was sitting up straight as he lightly ran his hands up and down my legs, stimulating the circulation. When the pins and needles feeling ran up my legs, I let out a howl as I began kicking my feet, trying to drive it out quickly. “Stay still!” he laughed. “You’re not going to do anything but make it worse if you kick like that.” “But it hurts!” I cried as I continued ignoring his advice and kicking my legs. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” “You are one stubborn woman,” he laughed. “You really ought to listen to me.”

“I know, but I can’t help it!” I laughed along with him as the pain in my legs began to subside. I leaned forward and stretched a little, then sat back up and looked intently at Brian. “Can you do that again?” “Do what again?” he asked, genuinely confused. “Make me feel safe like you did a little while ago?” I quietly requested. He looked at me for a long moment, then stood up, leaned over and scooped me up off of the end of the bed, and plopped down with his back against the headboard and me across his lap. He wrapped one arm around my lower back, and brought his other hand up and gently ran it through my hair as he pulled my head to his shoulder. Enveloped in his arms, I sighed quietly as I let go and enjoyed the feeling of his hard, warm body pressed against mine. He rested his chin on my head again as his finger played with my hair, gently brushing it away from my face. I studied the vein that was pulsing at the base of his neck as I felt the warmth of his arms wrapped around me, and without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed the spot where

his neck met his collarbone. “Ava…” His surprise was evident, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m not sure if this is…” “I am,” I whispered, as I leaned in and ran a string of light kisses down his jawline. Brian inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly as he fought to keep things under control. I, on the other hand, continued to work to upset the balance, and as I continued kissing his jaw, I lifted my hand to stroke his cheek. That elicited a quiet groan from his lips as he brought his hand to my face and tipped my chin up so we were looking into each other’s eyes. He stroked my cheek with his thumb as he gazed at me, and then murmured, “So beautiful,” before dipping his head and lightly brushing my lips with his. I hadn’t been with anyone—or even wanted to be with anyone—in the year since I’d left Dominic, and the sensation of his lips against mine awakened my desire in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Brian must have felt the change, and he pulled back and

asked, “Are you sure?” I was more than sure, and I nodded as I reached up and pulled his lips back down to mine. His were soft as he traced the edge of my mouth with his tongue, gently parting my lips so our tongues could find each other. He teased me as he began gliding his hands down my body, roaming over my curves and then returning to caress my face as our kiss deepened. Soon, he reached down and tugged the edge of my T-shirt and pulled it up over my head. My bra joined the T-shirt on the floor in quick order as he slipped out from under me and lowered me onto my back. I looked up at him as he unzipped his hoodie, tossed it to the floor, and then stripped the standard white T-shirt from his body. I inhaled sharply as I took in his broad, muscled chest and strong arms, and moments later, he was pressing them against my bare skin as he leaned down and continued kissing me. I ran my hands down his arms and felt the muscles bulging under my fingertips, and moaned softly as his hands found my sensitive nipples and began circling them

with his fingers. He pulled back and watched me closely as he teased them into erect points before dipping his head down and capturing one between his lips. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and I cried out as I buried my fingers in his thick hair and pulled him against my breasts. He continued licking and sucking as one hand moved lower and found the waistband of my pants, and moments later, he pushed himself up off my body so that he could strip me bare. I lay on the bed as he ran his eyes and his hands over my now-naked body. He kept murmuring, “So beautiful” as he touched me, and he kept looking back up at my face as if to ask if I was alright. I nodded and pulled him back down against me, kissing him deeply and urging him to continue as I unzipped his pants and tried to push them off of him. I was pinned under him, and we both laughed a little as he was forced to pull his own pants off. Now both naked, the urgency of our need took over, and we began grinding against one another; skin on skin as we kissed

and touched, exploring each other’s bodies. I could feel Brian’s hardness pressing against my leg and I braced myself for what I thought would come next, but he felt the slight shift and stopped to look at me for a moment. “You okay?” he asked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I looked away. “Bad memory of another lifetime, sorry.” “You never have to be sorry with me, Ava,” he vowed as his hand traced a slow path down my body until he was parting my thighs and stroking the soft skin of my outer lips. He kissed me softly as his fingers spread me open, and then he sighed into my lips as he began stroking the velvety softness of my already slick inner lips. A desperate moan escaped my lips as he spent long minutes stroking me until I was so wet I could feel the moisture dripping out of me and soaking the bed. He watched me intently as he slid his fingers to the edge of my tight entry, and then teased it until I raised my hips to try and push his fingers inside me. “You want it, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Oh yes, I need it! I need it!” I cried as my hips chased his fingers. Brian smiled as he continued the erotic torture, bending down to kiss me again and again. Slowly, he positioned himself on top of me, sliding his thick shaft between my legs, coating it in my wetness before spreading my lips and holding the tip on the edge of my tight, wet pussy. He held my gaze as he slowly pushed forward, burying himself inside me. I moaned loudly and gripped his arms as I tried to pull him deeper inside my body. I wanted to feel all of him. I needed him. “Please, Brian, please!” I groaned. “Please what?” he teased. “Please! Stop teasing me! You’re driving me crazy!” I cried as I pushed my hips up, only to have him withdraw an equal distance. I wanted to feel him driving into me, deep and hard, but he was intent on teasing me until I went insane. “Brian, please, please, please, please…” As my begging became a chat of pure need, Brian watched me carefully.

The change happened in an instant. One moment he was soft and slow, and the next he was plunging down into me hard and fast, taking my breath away as I cried with relief. I could feel every stroke, and I arched my back and pushed my hips up to meet every forceful thrust. We were like a well-oiled machine, and we found a rhythm that made me forget all about Dominic and my father and let the force of our desire engulf us. Brian reached down between us and found my clit as he slammed down into me over and over again, and for a moment, I felt as if I had left my body. The rhythm of our hips, his fingers stroking my clit, and our lips pressed together moved us closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. The sweat ran down his nose and dropped onto my face as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me tightly against him, trying to find a way to dive deeper. My hands gripped his arms as I felt the first wave moving through my body. I cried out, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” as I felt his fingers moving faster, and as the orgasm enveloped me, I felt him drive harder and deeper as

he raced to catch up with me. Soon he was groaning as he reached his own blissful release, and we held tight to each other as the waves of pleasure washed over us. Many minutes later, Brian opened his eyes and found me watching him. “Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed as he quickly rolled off of me, pulled the covers down on the bed, and urged me to get underneath them before returning to lay by my side. “Can’t have you getting cold!” “You must have been a Boy Scout,” I laughed. “No, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m not much for joining things, and I’ve only ever been a Navy man!” I laughed again as I snuggled in next to him. It felt good to be safely wrapped in his strong arms. I pressed my head against his chest and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soon lulled me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

PROTECTOR #2

The next morning, slowly emerging from sleep, I was confused by my unfamiliar surroundings. As I lazily stretched my arms, my hand touched the body next to me and panic set in. What did I do? It all came flooding into my brain as I remembered the way I’d confessed everything to Brian. I’d told him all my secrets and shared all of my shame about my relationship with Dominic, and then I replayed the kiss and everything that followed. Oh no! I flipped over and looked at him sleeping so peacefully next to me, and was horrified that I’d let him so far into my life. Now he had all the information he needed about what happened between me and Dominic, and he would tell my father everything! I’d spent the past year figuring out how to get away from a man who had so totally controlled my life that he’d almost killed me, and then I’d let the man that my father hired to

control my life into my bed and here I was again, right back to where I started. Plus, he didn’t even know me. I’d spent one day with him, and look where this had ended up. I was making bad choices again, and I needed to eliminate these men from my life, not allow them more access. I was disgusted with myself for being so weak and needy. I rolled over and watched Brian as he slept. He was restless, and his face never seemed to stop moving. He looked as if he were acting out his dreams, and occasionally he’d yelp or mumble something unintelligible. He obviously had issues, but what they were was not my problem. My issue was to get rid of the bodyguard and not have my father prying into every area of my life when all he cared about was his own reputation. I’m going to have to cut this off as quickly and painlessly as possible, I thought as I watched Brian sleep. The memory of his hands on my body and the careful way he’d touched my skin made me shiver, but I knew that if I got too attached to him now, it would just make it harder to let go later. I had to do it; for

both of us. He didn’t need me to complicate his life any more than I needed him to complicate mine. I braced myself and set the plan in motion. First thing first, I grabbed my discarded clothes from the floor and put them on before sitting back down on the edge of the bed farthest away from where he was sleeping. “Brian,” I said softly as I shook him. “Brian, wake up.” It only took a few seconds for him to hear my wakeup call, and when he did, he bolted up out of bed, poised for attack. “Ready, SIR!” he yelled. “Brian, it’s me, Ava,” I said quietly—and a little shocked. I was afraid that he wasn’t fully awake yet, and in this state of readiness, I was worried that he’d mistake me for someone else. “Good morning, Mr. Bodyguard.” “Huh?” he rubbed his eyes and shook his head before looking over at me, and in a voice still groggy with sleep, he said, “Wait, what?”

“It’s time to get up. I’ve got class,” I said in an all-business tone. “We need to get going.” “Ava, are you okay?” he said in a tone that conveyed extreme concern. “Is something wrong?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. “I just need to get going. I’ve got a big day on campus and I need to pick up my books before we head over to the quad.” When he reached across the bed and grabbed my hand, I quickly withdrew and got up off the bed. I began anxiously pacing the floor as I tried not to lose my cool. “Ava,” he began. “No, don’t,” I said stopping him cold. “It’s fine. Last night was nice, but it was a big mistake. We should not have done that. You work for my father, and I need to focus on my schoolwork, not on being romanced by my personal protection agent.” “But I don’t think —” he interrupted.

“You might not, but I do,” I replied. “Last night was a mistake that we should both forget. You are here to protect me from that whacko, Dominic, and I need to focus on my classes.” Brian started to object, then stopped and looked away. “Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll stay on my side of the suite and maintain constant vigilance.” I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or being serious, but for the time being, I didn’t care. I’d dealt with the situation, and now it was time to get to class. “Get dressed,” I said. “I don’t want to be late to class.” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a snappy salute before quickly pulling on his clothes and heading out to the main room. I felt a twinge of sadness as I watched him walk through the door, but I took a deep breath and pushed it aside. ***** On the ride back to the dorm, Brian rolled down the window and let the breeze blow through the SUV. He fiddled

with the stereo for a while before turning it off and plunging the interior into silence. I looked out the passenger side window at the buildings flying by and wondered how I’d wound up here. I’d made some poor decisions, for certain, but somehow, it didn’t all add up. “You know, Ava, what we did last night isn’t something to be ashamed of,” Brian’s voice cut through my silent thoughts. “I know,” I replied. “It’s totally normal for people who’ve been abused to transfer feelings from one situation to another,” he continued. “It’s perfectly understandable if you feel uncomfortable, but I promise you that I didn’t use you last night.” “What are you talking about?” I snapped. “I’m saying that I didn’t use you,” he continued. “And it wasn’t my intent to make you feel used.” “I don’t feel used in the least.” I was getting progressively more irritated with his attempt at playing therapist. “In fact, I

don’t feel anything.” “Oh, I see.” His voice sounded both hurt and patronizing, and I wondered how that was possible. “Look, I’m not saying it was bad or that I think you did anything wrong,” I backpedaled, and tried to soothe his obviously hurt feelings. “I’m just saying that I appreciate you being there for me last night. It was kind of you, and I’m grateful that you were there, but I don’t feel more than that and I’d like to keep it professional from now on.” “Sure,” came the terse reply. “But really, thank you,” I said quietly. “You were really great.” My backhanded compliment was met with a stony silence that lasted until we arrived at the dorm. ***** After I’d stopped in my room to change my clothes and grab my books, Brian and I walked toward the quad in silence. I

felt bad that I’d basically shot him down in the car when he was trying so hard to be nice, but I couldn’t see any good coming of us continuing down the path of some fake romance that was brought about by my situation. All I wanted was to let him do his job so I could walk around campus safe from the fear of being attacked by Dominic and his illusions about our future. I looked over my shoulder for the third time, and caught Brian doing what he had been doing for the past 24 hours; scanning the landscape, looking for threats to my safety. I sighed as I looked ahead, trying to find Lara and Jessie in the crowd on the quad. When I finally located them, I waved and walked quickly towards the spot where the two of them had camped out with their books and computers. Neither one was studying, but they’d managed to set a very convincing scene. “What are you two doing?” I demanded to know. “We’re studying,” Jessie whined as she sipped a diet soda as her textbook lay open on the ground, well out of reach. “Oh, really?” I laughed. “It doesn’t exactly look like A+

central here with all your stuff spread out across the quad.” “Hey, we’re taking it all in and thinking about the most efficient method of processing the information,” Lara said as she looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “You’re so full of it!” I laughed harder as I dropped down and sat next to her. “Do you have the Psych study guide?” “Yeah, it’s somewhere here,” Lara dug into her backpack and searched for the guide, triumphantly holding it over her head once she’d found it. “Where’s the hottie?” Jessie asked as she sat up and leaned on one elbow, scanning the quad for Brian. “Dunno, somewhere around here,” I said as I waved my hand distractedly. “I’m sure he’s casing the quad, making sure I won’t trip over an errant blade of grass or a soda can or something.” “Oh, there he is!” Jessie yelled excitedly. “Brian! Hi! How are you today?”

“Jessie!” I hissed. “Shut the hell up, would you? Jeez, he’s supposed to be stealth!” “Oh, I’m sorry. My bad,” Jessie looked genuinely contrite as she took another sip of her soda and then lay back down with her face toward the late morning sun. “You’re a piece of work, you know that, don’t you?” I laughed. No one could stay made at Jessie for long. “Hey, did you do any studying last night?” Lara asked. “Um, no, not really,” I stammered. “I was…um…a little busy.” “With the hottie bodyguard?” Jessie piped up. “My God, would you drop it with the hottie bodyguard thing?” I said in exasperation. “I mean, seriously!” “Sorry, Ava,” Jessie again offered her requisite apologetic pout. “So, is it all okay, then?” Lara asked.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” I replied as I turned and looked to see where Brian was stationed. He was sitting on a bench not too far away from where the girls were sprawled out. He looked like he was just another college student enjoying the sunny day, but I could see him constantly scanning the area as he made sure I wasn’t in any danger. “He’s kind of growing on me, you know?” “Sure, sure,” Lara said as she stared at Brian. “Maybe my dad will hire him to follow me around next! I’d love to have him protecting my assets!” “Lara!” I scolded as I laughed at her horrible euphemism. “You’re terrible!” “I know,” she shrugged. “But it’s so much fun! Now, let’s get on with this study guide, shall we?” The three of us settled in and quizzed each other for over an hour. By the end of the study session, I felt like I had a pretty good handle on the exam material, and was confident that I’d pass with at least a B. As we packed up our books, I over at Brian just in time to see an attractive coed in super short shorts

approach him and began to flirt. He smiled and chatted with her for a moment, but then made an excuse and moved away as if he saw someone he knew. I followed his line of sight, and for a moment, my breath caught in my throat. Dominic? Brian walked by the guy and then turned and shook his head enough for me to be able to exhale. He really was looking out for me on so many levels I wasn’t aware of, and although it had only been one day, I was now acutely aware of his presence. And I actually kind of liked it, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Do you want to go grab some lunch?” Jessie was asking as I came back to earth. “No, I’m really tired. I did a late night run last night, and then I didn’t sleep very well,” I said, only half-lying. “I’m going to go grab a nap.” “Okay, well, don’t forget about the Chem study group tonight,” Lara reminded me. “Oh crap, that’s right!” I’d forgotten all about it, partly

because of the drama with Dominic, but partly because I already had an A in the class and wasn’t too worried about passing the exam. “I’ll see how I feel later. I might not make it if I’m too tired.” “Mmmmm hmmm,” Lara said as she raised an eyebrow. “Too tired for Chem? That’s a new one.” “Oh Lara, will you please shut up about the bodyguard?” I laughed, but in the back of my mind I was wondering about him, too. ***** Brian maintained his distance on the walk back to my dorm room, but my brain was racing as I tried to think of what I could say to bridge the distance that I’d created. I knew he had been genuinely trying to help when he’d brought up the issue of abuse, but I didn’t think of myself as the typical abused woman —as if there was one in the first place. I just thought of my problems with Dominic as the problems that most couples faced, and when Brian shed light on them, my sense of who I was and

who I’d become had been shaken. As we walked, I recited in my head what I would say once we were back in my dorm room. “Come on in,” I said as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Nah, I’ll just hang out here in the hallway,” Brian casually replied as he glanced down at his phone. “Seriously?” Exasperation tinged my voice. “Just come inside and hang out. I’m not going to do anything except study, and hanging out in the hall will just creep out my floormates.” “Fine,” he grumbled as he entered the room and dropped down in the big chair by the window. I looked at him for a moment, and then rolled my eyes before I sat down at my desk and pulled out my books. The room was so silent that I could hear my thoughts much too clearly, and after 15 minutes I gave up on the books and turned toward Brian. “Look, I’m sorry about this morning,” I started.

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged as he looked out the window. “Yeah, it kind of is; well, to me, anyway,” I continued. “I didn’t mean to shut you out when you were trying to help me, and I didn’t mean to shut you down after last night.” “It’s not a big deal, I’ve been through worse,” he mumbled. “What?” “Nothing,” he replied. “I’m just saying, it was silly of me to shut you out when you were only trying to help me.” I was desperately struggling to find a way to explain how important he’d already become to me, and I was making a mess of it. “I like you, Brian.” “I like you, too, Ava,” he parroted back. “Are you mocking me?” I asked incredulously. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he grinned. “Oh, you are so maddening!” I laughed as I balled up a piece of paper and threw it at him.

“I’m maddening? I’m maddening, you say?” he retorted. “I’ve got nothing on you, lady.” “Oh! Is that right?” I laughed harder as I wadded up another piece of paper and threw it at him. “Hey, hey, hey! Watch it, would ya?” he laughed as he pitched the paper ball back at me. “Listen —” I began and was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing in my purse. I quickly dug it out and looked at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number, but something told me to answer it, so I did. “Hello?” “Are you alone?” the voice on the other end slithered into my ear, causing me to almost drop the phone. “I’m—” I stammered as I looked across the room at Brian. He tipped his head in confusion, and then seeing the terrified look on my face, mouthed a single word, Dominic? I nodded frantically as I continued to listen. “Why are you dating that meathead, Ava?” he demanded.

“You know that those kinds of guys are not at all your type. They can’t do the things I can do for you.” “What the hell are you talking about, Dominic?” I said as the anger rose in my chest. “It’s none of your business!” “Oh, but it is my business,” he hissed. “Everything about you is my business, if I’m going to get you back. Tell me, Kitten, why do you let such a boring gym rat follow you around? What’s he got that I don’t?” “Well, manners and a brain, for one!” I shouted. The laughter that came from the other end of the line pissed me off, but Brian motioned to me to cool down while he texted into headquarters to have them figure out where the call was coming from. “You’re hilarious, Kitten; absolutely hilarious!” he laughed. “That frat boy has nothing that I couldn’t give you 10 times over, and yet, you keep him around. Don’t you remember how our life used to be? How you spent your days and nights in luxury and wanted for nothing? Now you’re trapped in a tiny

little dorm room with a guy who probably makes minimum wage bagging groceries. How far you’ve fallen.” “Listen, you jerk, stop calling me that,” I growled in to the phone. “He’s a hundred times the man you could ever hope to be, so shut the hell up and leave me alone! Don’t you get it, Dominic? We are done! I don’t want you; not now, and not ever! Leave. Me. Alone!” “I told you, darling,” he purred. “I will never leave you alone. You and I are meant to be together, and I won’t allow that steroid-sipping numbskull to get in our way. I will get rid of him; by any means necessary.” “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed into the phone as Dominic’s sinister voice dragged me back to a place I was sure I’d left long ago. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” Brian frantically gestured for me not to hang up, but I was so far beyond angry that I didn’t see him until it was too late and I’d already slammed the phone down on the couch. I wrapped

my arms around my upper body and tried to hold back the tears as I sat shaking and tried to remember to breathe. Am I ever going to be free of him? Am I ever going to feel safe again? ***** “Are you okay?” Brian asked as he frowned at his phone. I hadn’t kept Dominic on the line long enough to give them a good idea of where he was calling from, but in my mind, that was the least of our problems. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I sighed. “But you might want to rethink this whole bodyguard thing. He’s going to go after you, you know.” “Whatever,” he rolled his eyes and waved me off. “I’m serious, Brian,” I pleaded. “Dominic is coming unglued and I’m afraid of what he’s going to do next.” “I’m not afraid of him, Ava,” he replied. The look on his face was one of determination mixed with good old-fashioned annoyance. “Men like Dominic are cowards. They think that if

they control people through fear, they’ll make up for their own self-loathing and insecurity.” “It sounds like you know something about these kinds of guys,” I observed. “Yeah, well—” he trailed off as his phone buzzed with a text from headquarters. “Shoot, they didn’t get him this time.” “I’m sure he’ll be back,” I sighed. I wondered why I was so intent on playing up the danger of the situation. I didn’t know any more if I wanted to get rid of Brian or if I really was concerned about his safety. “I just don’t like this at all. And your nonchalant attitude doesn’t give me confidence that you’re taking this seriously. He could hurt you.” “Ava, he is not going to hurt me,” he said. “And I resent the fact that you’re questioning my skills as a bodyguard. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” “I’m not questioning you,” I said defensively. “I’m just saying that he’s not going to play by the rules and that makes

him dangerous.” “I’ve known a lot worse danger,” he muttered. “And I’m definitely not going to let that little weasel get to me. Happy now?” “Weasel, is he?” I laughed weakly as I tried to break the tension between us. “Yeah, he’s kind of low to the ground and slippery, although I think that calling him a weasel is kind of an insult to weasels, don’t you think?” As Brian flashed me a grim grin, I caught a glimpse of him dropping his hand to check the gun concealed under his hoodie. Maybe he wasn’t as unconcerned as he said he was. ***** “So, what are you going to do about him?” I asked as I began pacing the small room. The realization that Dominic might truly be a threat to my safety and that of those around me was sinking in, and it made me anxious. “We’re going to try and figure out where he is, and then

neutralize the threat,” Brian replied. “But how are you going to find him if I can’t keep him on the phone long enough for you to locate him?” I countered. My anxiety was starting to ramp up as I started thinking about all of the things that Dominic had done during our relationship and the ways in which I’d been lulled into believing that they were for my own good. Who was acting in my interests now? Sure, Brian was there to protect me, but he had been hired by my father, whose number one interest was himself and his own reputation, not me or mine. “Look, chill out will you?” Brian’s aggravation was apparent, but it didn’t stop me from wanting answers. “Chill out? You chill out!” I shouted. “This is my life we’re talking about! Dominic is a psycho who is going to do whatever he needs to do to get me back! You have no idea how insane he is!” “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he mumbled.

“What?” I had worked myself up into a frenzy as I pictured all of the awful things Dominic would do to get to me as all the awful things he had done loomed over me like a dark cloud. Would he hurt Lara or Jessie? The panic was rising to a new level when Brian crossed the room and grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me lightly. “Ava! Stop!” he commanded. “Dammit, I’m here to protect you, and nothing is going to harm either one of us. Now, would you please drop it?” With wide eyes, I stared up at him, trying to make sense of his words so that I could stop myself from panicking. He lightly shook me again, and as I gazed up into his eyes, I leaned forward as I raised a hand to touch his cheek. His eyes softened for a moment, and then he pulled back and shook his head. “No,” he said. “You said there isn’t going to be anymore sex. I respect that, and you’re right, Ava. I’ve been hired to protect you from Dominic, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, but beyond that, it’s a no-go.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as I dropped my head and stared at the floor. I was embarrassed that I’d tried to cross the line that I’d drawn, but it didn’t change the fact that I still wanted him. Images from the night before flashed through my mind, and my cheeks burned with both shame and desire. I looked up at him, searching for some recognition of what we’d shared the night before, but there was none in his eyes. “I need to be vigilant about protecting you, and in order to do that, I need to be on my A game,” he looked up at me and pointedly said, “and there’s really no room for mistakes.” I nodded as I dropped my eyes to the floor again. How could he say this after what we’d done last night? How could he be so businesslike and not be torn up about wanting and not wanting? And then I remembered, Oh, that’s right. This is a job for him. I swallowed hard, looked up, smiled and said in the brightest voice I could muster, “Then do you want to go to dinner?” “Well, sure. Whatever you want,” he responded. “Do we

need to stop and pick up Lara and Jessie?” “No, I mean, how about you and I go have dinner together? Sit at the same table and talk?” I suggested. “I just don’t feel like having to explain myself to other people and you already know the situation, so…” “Okay, then dinner it is,” he agreed. “What are you in the mood for tonight?” “I’m thinking Italian,” I said. “I could go for a huge plate of spaghetti and meatballs to wipe the memory of today out of my mind.” “That sounds good to me,” he nodded, though I realized that he would have agreed to go anywhere I’d suggested even if it didn’t sound good; after all, it was his job. ***** “Belissima, Ava!” Gina, the owner, cried as she welcomed me with open arms. “I have not seen you all school year! Where are you hiding yourself these days?”

“I’ve been…um…busy,” I smiled. “Gina, this is Brian. Brian, this is Gina.” “Ah, bella, this explains why you’re so busy,” Gina smiled knowingly and winked. “Gina! No!” I laughed. “He’s not the reason why!” “Well, shame, bellissima,” the older woman pouted. “I was hoping that you’d finally replaced that good-for-nothing loser you used to come in here with! But it’s nice to meet you, Brian. You’re welcome here anytime!” Gina chatted about her daughters and the restaurant as she escorted us to a table tucked back in a far corner, then winked at me and left us to enjoy our meal. “How do you know her?” Brian asked as he picked up the menu and began examining its offerings. “I’ve known her since I was a small child,” I explained. “She owned a restaurant around the corner from my parents’ brownstone, and we used to walk over for dinner or gelato on

hot summer nights. Gina always exclaimed, ‘Bellissima!’ when she spied me, so it became a tradition. The restaurant was a success and when her kids got older, she started opening up new locations. Then her youngest daughter, Gabby, got in to the university, and Gina decided to move here and open another place. Gabby always said it was because her mother wanted to keep an eye on her, but Gina insisted that she liked the pace of a smaller town. Anyway…” Across the table, Brian continued to examine the menu as he nodded and mumbled, “Mmm hmm,” and “I see.” I wasn’t sure he was actually listening to me, so I stopped talking and looked down at the menu. I already knew what I wanted, a big plate of Gina’s homemade spaghetti topped with three huge meatballs. It was comfort food, but I had never ordered it when I came in with Dominic. He hadn’t approved of my nonvegetarian status, so I had always tried to appease him by ordering the Pasta Primavera or some all-vegetable creation. I cringed as I recalled the way in which I used to look over at him

for approval after I’d placed my order, and the way in which he’d always make slight changes telling the waiter, “Go light on the olive oil. She’s watching her calorie intake,” or “That’s good, Ava, but next time you might want to lay off the bread before we place our order.” Eating with Dominic became a field of emotional landmines, and after we’d been together a few months, I’d found myself trying to find ways to avoid having to go out to eat with him. I shook my head to clear the memories, looked up, and smiled. “Have you decided what you’re going to have?” I asked too brightly. “Are you okay?” Brian looked concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine, just…” I trailed off. “What are you having?” “I think I’m going to go with your choice and have the spaghetti and meatballs,” he said, and then smiled a little. “That way if I don’t like it, it’ll be all your fault.”

“Oh no, that’s all on you, Mr. Flynn!” I laughed. “Freedom! Isn’t that what you military people fight for? The right to choose your own dinner?” A dark look flitted across Brian’s face, and I knew I’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean—“ “No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s all good.” Across the restaurant a loud clatter caused Brian to jerk his chair out, and pop up out of it anxiously, looking around. He scanned the place until he found the culprit; a clumsy busboy had dropped a basket full of silverware and was now on his knees cleaning up the mess. I watched with a concerned look on my face until he sat back down and faced me, one hand still under his hoodie holding the handle of his gun. ***** For a few moments we sat in uncomfortable silence, then Brian asked, “So, what’s it like growing up so rich?” “Well, it’s okay, I guess,” I didn’t know how to answer his

question without sounding like I was pitying myself. I mean, who wants to hear about a poor little rich girl who feels ignored? “I don’t know. I got to do a lot of things, and I know I had a whole bunch of advantages.” “But what about your parents?” he pushed. “I’m curious how that works because your dad seems like a pretty focused guy.” “You have no idea,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “He’s singleminded when it comes to the family business and the family name.” “Sounds like it was rough,” he noted. “I don’t know, I spent a lot of time in boarding schools, so I wasn’t really around him or my mother much,” I tried to sound casual about it, but the pain seeped into my voice and I fought to eliminate it. “On the other hand, I got to see a whole lot of things that other people only dream about!” “Like what?” he asked. “What did you get to see that was

so wonderful, Ava?” The tone of his voice caught me off guard. For a moment I couldn’t tell whether he was mocking me or being genuinely kind, but when I looked up into his eyes, I saw a softness and quickly looked down and began messing with the napkin in my lap as I fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. It was true that I’d had an easy upbringing in terms of financial support. I’d never wanted for a single thing, and, in fact, had sometimes had to turn down things that were given to me before I even knew that I might want them. I wasn’t high and mighty, I just knew that there was more to life than clothes and cars and champagne. “I got to see great works of art when I was 14. My grandmother and I traveled to Europe for a few months and we saw them all. We saw the Louvre in France, the Vatican in Italy, the Prado in Spain, the National Gallery in London, the Guggenheim, and the Bodemuseum in Berlin,” I recalled with a smile, and then quietly added, “It was the most amazing trip I’ve

ever taken, and the last one that my grandmother ever took.” “What happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking,” he asked. “Why do people always say that?” I looked up at him as I spoke. “Why do they ask if they can ask you a question after they’ve already asked it?” “I’m sorry,” he offered as he looked away embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to pry.” “No, it’s fine,” I replied, brusquely heading towards an explanation. “About three months after we returned from our trip, she fell in her bathroom and hit her head on the counter. One of the staff found her and called an ambulance, but by that time she’d been out for who knows how long. She was on life support for a week until my father and his sister could make a decision to let her go. They fought about it for days. My aunt wanted to hold off and see if she would improve, but my father did what he usually does and made the decision on his own. And as most people do with my father, my aunt finally gave in and

agreed to take my grandmother off life support. They did an autopsy, and it turned out that she’d had a massive stroke, so my father’s decision was the right one in the end.” “It sounds like your father is a decisive man,” Brian murmured. “Yeah, well, that’s one way of looking at it,” I flashed him a wry grin as the waiter set our plates in front of us. As the smell from the steaming spaghetti drifted upward, I inhaled deeply and, for the first time in two days, felt ravenously hungry. I looked over at Brian and chirped, “Bon appetite!” Despite the fact that we’d stuffed ourselves so full that neither one of us thought we’d ever want to eat again, Gina insisted that we take dessert with us, and boxed up a selection of tiramisu, cannoli, and something her pastry chef called Lemon Ricotta Surprise Cake. I hugged Gina tightly as Brian went to get the car. “He likes you, Bella,” she smiled as she pushed my bangs out of my eyes. “He’s got that look that a man gets when he

likes a woman more than he’s saying.” “Oh, Gina!” I cried as I grabbed her and hugged her again. I wasn’t sure she knew what she was talking about since she didn’t know the situation, but then, I wasn’t entirely sure that she didn’t know either. I decided to hold back and see how things went rather than rush into something I was unsure of. It seemed like the smarter choice after the debacle that had become Dominic. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” “Yes, you come back, Bella!” she smiled. “And bring that nice young man with you.” Outside Brian tapped the horn letting me know the coat was clear. I turned to go, and then turned back and said, “You’re sure he likes me, Gina?” “Oh my beautiful girl, yes, he definitely likes you!” she laughed. “Now go to him!” I ran out and climbed into the front seat, carefully setting the bag of Italian goodies in my lap before Brian shifted into

drive and took us back to the dorm. ***** A few hours later, we were sprawled across the couch watching a movie. I was barely paying attention to it because having Brian so near was incredibly distracting, and I kept turning Gina’s words over in my head. Does he like me? Or is this just another job? I looked over at him and realized that it had been ages since I’d had such a good time with, well, anyone. Brian was easy to be around and his sense of humor combined with his intelligence made him really good company; the personal protection part aside. “You’re really a good man,” I said as I stared at the television. “What?” he asked in a distracted tone. “Did you say something?” “Yeah, I said that I think you’re a really good man.” “What brought that on?” he questioned as he reached for

the remote and turned the volume down. “I don’t know, I was just thinking about stuff,” I said quietly. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know anything about what I was thinking, but then, I wasn’t sure that I didn’t. “My whole dating life seems to have been a way of getting back at my parents for expecting me to be their perfect little daughter.” “Well, you’re not alone in that endeavor, in case you’re feeling guilty,” Brian laughed. “No, I’m serious,” I said as I looked up at him. “I’ve always picked guys who were jerks so that my father would pay attention, but he never did. He just waved me off like I was one of his employees. The only difference was that he’d always give me a credit card to ease the pain of being dismissed. Or at least that was my interpretation of it.” “That sucks,” Brian replied. “My old man never gave me anything, but on the upside, I didn’t expect him to, so I guess we were even.”

“What is your father like?” I asked. I’d been looking for a way into Brian’s personal life, and here it was. “Dunno,” he said. “I never met him. My mom said he was a good guy who was torn apart by the war and just couldn’t recover from it.” “Your dad was a veteran?” “Yeah, Vietnam,” he replied. “He was a door gunner, you know, the guys who sat by the door on the helicopters and fired at the enemy.” “Whoa, that’s some job,” I was awed by this revelation, and wondered if that’s why Brian had entered the military. “Is that why you joined the Navy?” “Nah, I did it because I couldn’t afford college and I didn’t want to work as a fry cook,” he admitted with a shrug. “My mom begged me not to do it, but I didn’t feel like I had many options, you know?” I nodded, not knowing what to say because I didn’t know. I

had no idea what it was like to feel like I had no options in life. My parents had provided me with every opportunity I had ever wanted, and then made the choice as to whether I would take it or not. Until I left Dominic, I’d really never had to make any difficult decisions, and the fact that it had taken me so long to make that decision was the result of it. I wiggled a little closer to Brian, and stared at his profile. He tried to ignore me as he pretended to watch the movie, but after a minute he turned and said, “What’s on your mind?” “I don’t know, I just keep trying to picture you in the Navy,” I said, as a small smile played on my lips. “Oh, please do,” he laughed. “It was all debutante balls and afternoon teas. Except with buzz cuts, no sleep, and totally torn up feet. That’s the glamour of the U.S. military!” “Don’t mock me, Mr. Flynn!” I laughed as I threw a punch against his shoulder. “My life has been more than debutante balls and high tea!” “Oh yes, I can definitely tell that it has been!” he laughed.

“What with that powerhouse punch you throw there.” “Are you saying I’m weak?” I was now pummeling his shoulder as I laughed harder and harder with every soft punch. “Who? Me?” his wide-eyed disbelief put me over the edge. “Oh no, I’d never call you weak, Ms. Klein! Not with those powerhouse punches you’re throwing!” “Oh my God!” I was laughing so hard there were tears running down the sides of my face. When he caught my wrists and held them for a moment, I straddled the line between laughter and panic as I struggled to pull away. “Ava! Ava!” he called my name as he held my wrists and watched me struggle. “Hey! Stop, stop!” “Let go of me!” I cried as I fought to free myself from his grasp. “Ava, stop fighting,” he said quietly. His voice cut through the fear in my brain and, for a moment, I stopped trying to pull away. “There you go now. That’s it.”

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “I was trying to show you that you need to learn how to protect yourself,” he offered. “The more you struggled, the easier it was for me to maintain my hold on you because you weren’t thinking about getting free, you were thinking about the struggle and the fear.” “I don’t see the difference,” I said as I pulled the sleeves of my shirt up to look at my wrists. Brian took one of my hands and gently massaged my wrist as he looked at me. “C’mon, you’re a smart girl, you’ve studied physics,” he chided me. “What’s Newton’s Third Law of physics?” “What the heck are you talking about?” I blurted. “I know you know this one, it’s so easy,” he coaxed. “For every action…” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” I impatiently recited the law. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I grab you and you pull away, Newton’s Law means that the equal and opposite reaction will allow me to keep my hold on you,” he offered. “Assuming I have a strong enough grip, that is.” “So, I need to give in and let you do whatever you want so that I don’t spark the equal and opposite reaction?” I said sarcastically. “Hey, there’s no need to get nasty,” he smiled. “I’m just saying that when you’re the size you are, and I’m the size I am, you need to look for other ways to get yourself out of a situation like this.” “Like how?” I said as I eyed him suspiciously. “Like think about all the other ways you could get me to drop your wrists that don’t involve force,” he said quietly. I sat staring at him for a moment, considering everything he’d said, and then I leaned forward and softly kissed his lips. “That’s not quite what I had in mind when I suggested you

think up other ways, Ava,” he gently scolded me. “I know,” I whispered. “But it works, doesn’t it?” He nodded almost imperceptibly as I leaned back in and brushed my lips against his again. His mouth was so soft and it fit so perfectly against mine that I sighed as I ran my tongue over his bottom lip. I reached up and wound my arms around his neck as I pulled him closer to me. He wrapped one arm around my lower back as he lifted his other hand to softly stroke my cheek. Those lips. I was lost in the feeling of his lips teasing mine as he flicked his tongue between them, urging me to part them so he could slip his tongue inside my mouth. I parted my lips and our tongues began a tantalizingly slow dance. His tongue darted in and out of my mouth before languidly tangling with mine. It was a kiss so deep, for a moment, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. As we devoured one another’s mouths, our hands traced fiery paths across our clothed bodies, feeling the curves and lines that led to places we both wanted the other to explore. I

lightly trailed my fingers across his upper back and felt him shiver as he slipped his fingers into my hair and grabbed a handful of it. He gently but firmly pulled down, forcing me to raise my chin toward the ceiling as he trailed a line of kisses down my neck. With his tongue he teased the sensitive skin at the base of my throat, forcing a soft moan from my lips. “Are you okay?” he whispered into my ear as he ran his tongue lightly around the edge, sending shivers up my spine. “Mmm hmmm,” I sighed as I pressed my body against his, hoping that he wouldn’t stop the way he was running his hand up and down my back. “I know it’s wrong and I shouldn’t, but I want you, Ava,” he continued whispering. “I have wanted you all day.” “I want you, too,” I moaned a little louder. “Brian, I’m sorry I pushed you away, I need this. I need you.” Hearing my words, Brian reached down and grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head only seconds before

he stripped off his own shirt and pulled me onto his lap. He dipped his head to kiss my lips as he began slowly running his fingers across my bare skin. His light touch set every one of my nerves on fire and made me pull him closer and kiss him harder. With one hand, he undid the hooks holding my bra together and as he exposed my breasts, he whispered, “Oh, yes.” He bent his head and captured one of my nipples with his lips and softly licked and sucked it until I was arching my back and begging him to suck harder. He ignored my pleas as he carefully traced circles around my other nipple, and when it was as erect as the one in his mouth, he switched sides and began teasing it, too. The electrical jolts that ran from my nipples to my clit were excruciating, and I urgently pushed my hips up as I begged him to go lower. “Oh please, Brian! Please! Please? Please?” I cried as he continued to tease my breasts with his mouth. He looked up for a moment, shook his head and then continued the delicious torture. He cradled my head in one of his large hands while the

other roamed my upper body, lightly tracing patterns on my skin as he licked and sucked, sucked and licked. I thought it might be possible that I’d orgasm without him touching anything below my waist, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted so much more. What had he said about Newton’s Law? I wracked my overly aroused brain for a memory of the conversation we’d been having not five minutes before. Equal and opposite… My brain spun from all of the colliding sensations. I felt like I was melting under his touch, but I struggled to pull myself back from the edge, and as I did, I reached down between his legs and pressed lightly on the growing bulge in his pants. Running my hand down his thigh and then back up again. And as I did, I felt him groan into my breast. I’d gotten the equal and opposite reaction! As he lifted his head and moved to kiss me, I pushed myself up and quickly straddled his lap so that I could look down into his eyes as I started a tease of my own. I bent down and kissed

him lightly as pressed my panty-covered pussy against his now rock-hard cock, and then slowly shifted my weight so that he could feel the heat through his jeans. That elicited a tortured moan from both of us as I pulled his head back to my chest and begged him to suck my nipples again. He quickly obliged, and soon we were both groaning from the torturous foreplay. “Ava…” Brian gasped. “Please? I need to be inside you.” “Oh, Brian,” I moaned into his mouth. “Yes! Yes, I need you inside me!” Brian pushed a hand up under my short skirt and looped a finger under the crotch of my panties, and pulled them aside as he undid his jeans and freed the turgid cock trapped inside. I whimpered as I felt him slide between my pussy lips, covering his cock in my wetness before pushing it up to the edge of my throbbing entrance. He kissed me deeply, and before he could push up into me, I slammed myself down on his cock; crying out as I felt the long, thick shaft fill me. Brian groaned as I took charge of the rhythm so that both of us felt the long, slow

strokes up and the hard, fast thrusts down; over and over and over again. His mouth was still attached to one of my nipples, and I could feel every flick of his tongue radiate down to my clit as I rode his cock. Rocking and grinding on him, I listened to him moan as I drove us both toward the edge. The moment Brian slipped a hand between us and began rubbing my clit, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. I leaned down and kissed him hard as I spread my legs wider to give him enough room to stroke me, and then threw my head back and gripped his shoulders as I felt the waves of orgasm begin crashing through my body. Brian wasn’t far behind me as he thrust his hips up, driving his cock deep inside me while he let go of his own pleasure. I could feel him pulsing inside me as he released, and I fell forward, my arms wrapped around his shoulders and his wrapped around my waist, as we both tried to catch our breath. I could feel Brian slowly running his hands up and down

my back, and I relaxed into his touch as I buried my face in his neck. He smelled of leather and cut grass, two of my favorite smells, and it made me feel safe. I inhaled deeply and then let out a satisfied sigh right before I felt my right leg go to sleep. “Uh oh,” I mumbled. “What’s wrong,” he whispered. “Leg’s asleep,” I groaned. “This is going to suck!” Brian laughed as he slid to the edge of the couch and gently pulled me off of him, flipping me over so that I landed softly on my back with my legs propped on the couch. “It won’t be too bad,” he reassured me. “Just stay there until the circulation returns and you can stand up.” “I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to stand again in my life,” I said softly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll recover very nicely,” he chuckled. “You’re not me,” I pouted playfully. “You have no idea.” “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it feels

like,” he grinned as he turned and headed toward the bathroom, looking over his shoulder to add, “Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” ***** As I was waiting for my leg to wake up, I heard my phone signal an incoming text. I reached over my head and grabbed the phone off of the side table and checked the screen to find a message from Lara. “Parteeeeeee at Fiji house! R U coming? Pleeeeeeze!!” I laughed at the silly little emoji she attached and thought about it for a moment. As I was thinking, a second text arrived. This one was from Jessie. “We never have fun N E MORE! Come to party. U no U wanna! Bring the hottie!” I laughed out loud at this one and quickly texted back, “On my way in a bit. Hottie in tow!” “Brian!” I called into the bathroom as I tested my leg and winced as the pins and needles started. “Brian? Did you fall in?” “Ha ha, very funny,” he said as he exited the bathroom with a big wet spot on the front of his jeans. “No, I did not fall in. I

was just cleaning up a bit.” “What happened?” I asked genuinely perplexed. “Do you not know how to use a sink?” “Yes, Miss Smart Ass,” he replied drily. “I know how to use a sink, but apparently you know how to let loose with some moisture of your own, so I needed to clean up a bit.” I blushed deeply as I dropped my eyes to the floor and mumbled, “Oh, sorry.” “Don’t be sorry,” he moved around in front of me and put a hand under my chin and lifted it so that I was staring up into his beautiful blue eyes. “Don’t ever be sorry for enjoying sex — or for having it with me.” I laughed as he playfully brushed a finger down my nose and then bent over to kiss me. My legs were both awake and ready to go, so I popped up off the couch and announced, “We’re going to a party!” “We’re what?” he asked.

“We’re going to a party!” I said in an excited voice. “I’m taking you out with me. Jessie and Lara are over at the Fiji house and they want me to bring you along. See?” I held up my phone for him to see the messages. He looked at them, then back at me and shrugged. “Fine.” His suddenly morose response took me by surprise. What just happened? I wondered. “You don’t want to go?” I asked, genuinely concerned about his lack of enthusiasm. “It’s not up to me, now is it?” he replied. “I’m the bodyguard, I go where you go. End of discussion.” “Brian? What’s wrong?” I reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away. “There is nothing wrong, Ava!” he shouted. “Go get ready and I’ll drive you to the party!” I turned and walked to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I had no idea what had just happened, but if he was

going to act like a jerk, then it wasn’t my problem. His moodiness wasn’t going to ruin a night of fun with my best friends. I quickly decided on a short skirt and a midriff-baring top in two soft shades of blue and, having been to the Fiji house before, I chose a pair of flat silver Gladiator sandals that would stay on my feet no matter how much dancing I did. I dressed quickly, and then grabbed a crossbody bag off of the dresser and put my ID, lipstick, and room key in it, along with some cash in case I needed it. I checked myself in the mirror one more time, and then headed out to the front room. “You ready?” I asked as I stood by the door. Brian was lounging on the couch watching the rest of our forgotten movie. “Yeah, whatever,” he said without looking up. “Then let’s get a move on, sailor!” I chirped half-heartedly. Not having him on board with this plan was taking some of the fun out of it. “Oh, wow,” he breathed as he stood up and caught a glimpse of me.

“What? Is something wrong?” I asked as I ran a hand through my hair, hoping to tame any flyaway ends. “No, nothing’s wrong at all,” he muttered as he grabbed his keys and stalked to the door. “Let’s go get this over with.” “You don’t have to be such a grump!” I teased. “Ava, go get in the car,” he said seriously. “We have a party to get to.” ***** When we arrived at the Fiji house, the party was in full swing. All the lights in the place were on, and the music was blaring so loudly that the windows were pulsing to the beat, and for a moment, I was afraid they would break. On the porch, a group of Fiji brothers were playing beer pong with a group of Kappa Kappa Gamma sisters, and it looked like the Kappas were actually winning; either that, or the Fiji boys were so far gone that they had lost sight of the purpose of the game. I walked up the steps with Brian in tow, and the game players all

yelled their welcome before turning back to the table and enthusiastically urging the next Kappa to put the ball in the cup. Inside the house, we had to navigate through a maze of people dancing to the pounding bass that seemed to be coming from the far corner of the living room. People were dancing everywhere; on the stairs, in the hallway, in the kitchen, and on the kitchen counter was a girl in go-go boots and a bikini dancing for an audience of one while the rest twisted and writhed to the beat. I grabbed Brian’s hand and pulled him toward the backyard where Jessie and Lara had said they’d be. The Fijis had, at some point in their illustrious history, build an in-ground pool in the backyard of the fraternity house, and tonight, the pool was lit up by hundreds (maybe even thousands) of strings of chili pepper lights, which made the yard glow an ominous shade of red. I scanned the large yard as several drunk frat brothers pushed each other into the pool yelling, “Cannonball!” before they did. From the looks of their soaking clothes, they’d been doing this for a while. I shook my head and

then jumped up and down as I spotted the girls in the far corner of the yard. “Jessie! Lara!” I yelled as I made a dash for them. “I’m here!” “Ava!” Jessie shouted. “Did you bring the hottie?” “Jessie!” I scolded. “He has a name. Shame on you!” “Awww, I’m sorry,” she said as she hung her head shamefully. “Hi Brian, I’m sorry I called you the hottie. No offense.” “None taken,” he replied with a bit of a smile creeping across his lips. No one could stay mad at Jessie for very long, not even a tough bodyguard. “What’s going on, girls?” I asked. “Well, James here is showing us how he can beer bong, but I’m not buying the whole setup,” Lara said as she grabbed James’ apparatus and turned it over to examine it. “I’ve never seen anything like this, and he’s managed to pour more beer on

himself than into his mouth thus far.” I looked at James and wondered if it was the beer bong that was the problem or the fact that he was about 12 sheets to the wind already. I said as much to Lara and she laughed it off, telling me that I was overanalyzing and that I should lighten up. I shrugged and asked where I could get a drink. Jessie walked me over to the table and ordered a couple of punches for us both. I turned to ask Brian if he wanted anything, but he’d moved over to the corner of the yard where he could observe with his back against the fence. I waved to get his attention, but he didn’t see me, so after I got my glass, I walked over to him. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked. “No, I’m fine,” he replied as he scanned the crowd. “Are you sure?” I asked again. “Yes! I’m fine, dammit!” he shouted impatiently. “Now will you drop it?” “Jeez, I was just trying to be polite. You don’t have to bite

my head off,” I grumbled. “Sorry I asked.” “It’s fine,” he said as he waved me off. “Go have fun. I’ll be over here if you need me.” I walked away feeling frustrated because I knew I’d been dismissed. Why is he so angry? What had I been expecting? Did I think he was going to act like my boyfriend around all of these people? The tryst on the couch and the one in the hotel room kept playing in my head and I couldn’t get them out of my mind. That changed as Jessie brought me a second cup of punch and pulled me into a crowd of dancers, and I lost myself in the alcohol and the beat of the pounding music that blared from the speakers. Soon I was having a wonderful time and had forgotten the sting of Brian’s dismissal. ***** Jessie, Lara, and I walked to the other end of the yard and watched the Fiji boys cannonball into the pool over and over again as we drank our punch. Admittedly, I drank too much, too fast, and soon, I found myself slurring my words and laughing

more loudly that I normally would, but I was having fun and for once, I wasn’t worried about anything. The alcohol gave me a warm, fuzzy sense of confidence, and I began openly flirting with a boy they called “Cheese.” “So how on earth did you get the nickname Cheese?” I laughed. “Oh, it’s not a nickname,” he solemnly informed me. “Cheese is my given name. My parents were hippies who really wanted to buck the system, but they were on welfare when I was born because my dad had lost his job when he refused to sign up for the draft on the grounds that he was a contentious objector. My mom said that they named me Cheese because the day I was born that’s all they had left to eat until the next month’s allotment of food stamps were issued.” “You are kidding me.” I had stopped laughing and was staring at him in disbelief. “Nope, not kidding at all,” Cheese replied. “I was fortunate that my parents also thought about the future ramifications of

their choice and gave me a normal middle name on the off chance that someday I’d be elected president or something.” “And what is your middle name?” I asked breathlessly. “It’s,” he responded. “It’s what?” I begged. “Tell me!” “That’s it. My middle name is It’s,” he said, with a serious look on his face. “So you are telling me that your parents named you Cheese It’s?” I asked with wide eyes full of confusion and disbelief. “Yep, that’s my full name,” he proudly announced. “Wait, what’s your last name?” I drunkenly asked. “Rock,” he replied. “Your full name is Cheese It’s Rock?” I said as I bit my tongue to keep from laughing out loud at the poor guy’s misfortune. Suddenly we were interrupted by a group of human

cannonballs running toward us and as we stepped apart, one of the ballers looked at me and yelled, “Is he telling you his name?” “Yeah!” I hollered. “It’s unbelievable!” “Did he tell you it’s Cheese It’s Rock?” the baller shouted over the thundering sound of bodies hitting the water. “He did! Can you even believe it?” I laughed. “No!” yelled the baller as he ran toward the edge of the pool and yelled, “Dude’s name is Christopher Michael Jackson! But we call him Jackass!” And with that he turned and yelled “Cannonball!” as he splashed into the pool with the rest of the ballers. “Christopher Michael Jackson!” I shouted. “What?” Cheese looked over at me expectantly. “You are a jackass!” I laughed. “You had me going!” “I know,” he laughed. “But you were so earnest and trusting, I couldn’t help myself!”

“Jackass!” I laughed as I walked over to him and punched his shoulder. “You hit like a girl,” he observed as he grabbed my wrist and pushed my fingers into a proper fist for punching. “Never tuck your thumb inside your hand when you make a fist. That’s a good way to get it broken. Now, punch me again. This time like you mean it.” I pulled back, checked my fist, and then landed a drunken punch that nearly knocked me off my feet. If it hadn’t been for Cheese (or was it Christopher?) catching me, I would have fallen forward into the pool with the rest of the drunken idiots. As he set me on my feet, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, Ava?” Brian asked. “I’m fine!” I cheerfully shouted. “Cheese is throwing me how to pack a punch! I mean, showing me!” “You seem a little drunk,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine!” I shouted a little too loudly. “I’m having fun for a change!” “Ava,” Brian spoke quietly in my ear. “Don’t you think that given the current situation and the fact that we don’t know where Dominic is, that it would be smart if you stayed a little more sober tonight?” “What are you, my father?” I belligerently protested. “I’m not a child! I can do what I want, and what I want is another drink!” “Ava,” he warned. “I’m not your father, I’m your bodyguard and I’m just saying that I think you should stay a little more in control of yourself tonight.” “Back off, SEAL!” I slurred as I pushed him away. “I’m in charge of things, and what I go says! I mean, what I say goes! I’m not afraid of that coward and I’m going to prove it by having a damn good time tonight!” “Dude, I think the lady has expressed her wishes and it’s

time for you to step down,” Cheese advised Brian. “Fine,” Brian nodded, but from his expression it was easy to see that his ego had been bruised by the frat boy’s enforcement of my decision. “I’ll be over here if you need me, Ava. Let me know when you’re ready to go home.” “I will,” I cheerily tossed off as I linked my arm through Cheese’s arm and skipped over to the table, where they quickly refilled my punch glass. Soon I was dancing up a storm with several of the now-dry cannonballers who had latched onto Lara and Jessie. We sang along with every song the DJ played and made up new dances that we had little hope of remembering the next day, all the while laughing and drinking. The guys kept refilling our glasses as we emptied them, and I lost count of how many I’d had, and then I felt the floor begin to undulate. It was like I was standing on a ship’s deck during an ocean storm. I staggered to the nearest couch and landed with a thud right on Cheese’s lap. “Uf!” he grunted as my elbow hit his chest. “Ouch!”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Cheese It!” I slurred. “I didn’t mean to… mean to…what did I do again?” I was way over the legal limit and in danger of losing control of all of my faculties, and Cheese seemed to be more than willing to help me cross the line. “No, baby, you’re fine,” he purred as he stroked the offending elbow. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to kiss any boo-boos?” “Oh Cheesey, you’re so funny!” I laughed as I swatted and missed his shoulder. “I’m fine. No boo-boos.” “Are you sure?” he whispered in my ear. “There are a lot of places I could kiss, you know.” “I’m going to get up now, Mr. Cheese,” I slurred as I attempted to push myself up off of his lap, but the Cheese Man had other ideas and he pulled me back down, which, admittedly, wasn’t terribly difficult to do. “Just stay, baby,” his tone was a little more urgent and I could feel the beginning of something stirring, and it was more

than I wanted to encourage. “Nope, I’m gonna get up and find the ladies’ room,” I laughed as I pushed up again. This time Cheese had a firm grasp on my arm and pulled me down hard. “I said, stay,” he ordered in a quiet voice. “No!” I yelled. “Let me go, Mr. Cheese! Let go! Let go! Let go!” An instant later three of the Fijis surrounded us; one pulled me off of Cheese’s lap and the other two pulled the offender up off the couch. Brian had quickly crossed the yard and now had an arm around me as he watched the fraternity brothers deal with their loose cannon member. “Listen, Jackass,” one of the brothers said in a serious tone. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to get us shut down? We’ve warned you about this kind of behavior and we have told you that we do not tolerate any kind of abuse or stupidity when it comes to women in this frat house. If they say no, they mean no, and you stop whatever you are doing and get them to a safe place. Under no circumstances do you ever use

force. You’re such a screw-up. Get the hell out of the house!” “Wait, guys! No!” Cheese yelled. “I can explain!” “No, you can’t,” said the taller brother. “You’re done. We’ll have a meeting tomorrow and decide whether to eject you or not. Now, go find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” Cheese shot Brian and I a dirty look as he slunk out of the house. Brian nodded at the brothers who’d evicted their offending member, and said, “Thanks, guys. I’m going to get her home. I think she’s had a good enough time tonight.” “Hey, no problem,” the tall brother said. “Sorry about our idiot friend. He’s not a bad guy, just a little clueless.” “Yeah, well, you’d better watch out that that cluelessness doesn’t get you guys suspended,” Brian warned. “You know how they’re cracking down on misconduct.” “Yeah, we know. That’s why we’re policing it ourselves,” the brother replied. “All it takes is one idiot to ruin it all.” “Well, thanks for intervening,” Brian said as he began

walking me toward the car. I could barely stand up anymore, so he reached down and scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the car. He gently put me in the passenger’s seat and attached my seatbelt and then added, “And for God’s sake, if you have to throw up, warn me!” I looked up at him and whispered, “Promise I will,” before I passed out cold. ***** The whole ride home I leaned against the door with my head halfway out the window. I felt sick and wasn’t entirely sure that I wouldn’t throw up all over the dashboard. My mind was racing through hundreds of thoughts as we sped back to the dorm. What happened? Why is he so mad? Why aren’t I more worried about Dominic? Did I study for my Psych exam? Does he like me or am I just a work fling? Why do I care? Did I study for that Psych exam? By the time we got back to the dorm, I was drunkenly grilling Brian about my Psych exam. “Did I study for that

exam?” I slurred. “I think I need to study for the exam.” “You can study as soon as you’ve sobered up,” he grimly informed me as he helped me out of the car and put an arm around my waist, and I leaned heavily on him as we made our way back to my room. Once inside, I collapsed on the couch in a drunken lump, and felt the room begin to spin counterclockwise as I held my head with one hand and my stomach with the other. I moaned softly as I desperately tried to fix my gaze on something that would stop the dizzying speed with which the room was turning, but after a few minutes, I knew this was not going to end well. Weakly, I pushed myself up to a sitting position and then tried to stand. I fell back and began to cry because I knew I couldn’t make it to the bathroom on my own. The next thing I knew, Brian had swept me up in his arms and carried me to the toilet, where I immediately bent over and emptied what few contents my stomach still contained. It was painful and I cried as the waves of nausea rolled in over and over. Brian stood behind me,

silently holding my hair off of my face and rubbing my back until the violent spasms subsided and I sunk to the floor and rested my cheek on the cool tile. Brian left the bathroom and then returned a few minutes later. “C’mon princess,” he said as he gently shook me back to awareness. “Let’s get you into bed.” “No!” I cried weakly. “I don’t want to go to bed! It will spin and I’ll throw up again!” “No you won’t,” he assured me. “You’ve gotten rid of the bad stuff, now it’s time to sleep the rest off.” “I don’t wanna,” I whined as he lifted me off of the floor and carried me to the bed. He gently removed my clothes and pulled a T-shirt he’d found on the dresser over my head, then he pulled back the covers and slid me under them before pulling them back up to my shoulders. “You sleep now, okay?” he said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Only half-aware of his presence, I nodded before I passed out. ***** I squinted as the sun shined through the curtains covering my dorm window, and then groaned as I moved my head. The effects of the party and my overindulging had left me with a splitting headache and a mouth that was as dry as desert sand. I groaned again as I rolled over and found that the other side of the bed was empty. My memories of the night before were fuzzy, but I did remember that Brian and I had had some hot sex on the couch before everything had gone south. What happened last night? Where is he? I wondered. As I lifted myself off of the pillow and tried to sit up, the sharp pain in my head took my breath away, and I lay back down as I tried to breathe the pain out of my head. Bits and pieces of the party came trickling back into my memory, but I couldn’t quite grasp the whole picture. Did I make a fool of myself? I knew I’d gotten really drunk, thus the splitting

headache and queasy stomach that were now at war with one another, but what else had happened? And where was Brian? I took a deep breath, pushed myself up into a sitting position, and immediately rested my elbows on my knees as I held my throbbing head. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, I chanted to myself as I tried to get the pain under control. After a few minutes, I felt steady enough to look up and scan the room. Brian was sound asleep on the couch with his arm tucked under his head as a pillow and his hand on his gun. Even in his sleep he looked serious and ready to wake up and fight, and as I watched him, he shifted and made soft noises that sounded almost like barking. He didn’t seem to be someone who rested easily. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and felt the soles of my feet soak up the coolness of the tile floor. It helped soothe the ache and the rolling waves of nausea, so I tested my legs and stood up. Major mistake, I thought as my legs gave out and I tumbled to the ground. I cried out as my head hit the floor, and

in an instant, Brian was by my side hauling me back up into the bed. “What the hell were you doing?” he demanded in an angry but still sleepy voice. “I needed to go to the bathroom,” I replied, irritated that he was mad at me for wanting to get up and move around. “Well, you should have woken me up so I could get you there safely,” he lectured. “I have never once in my life woken anyone up in order to ensure my safe travel to or from a bathroom,” I shot back. “I didn’t know that this was a new rule on the list of the millions you have already devised for me.” “I didn’t devise any rules for you, sunshine,” his voice rose as he continued. “I’m not here for my health, you know. I’m here to ensure that your psycho ex-boyfriend doesn’t do anything that will harm even one precious hair on your little head.”

“Well, I’m not a child!” I yelled. “I can take care of myself! I don’t need you watching my every move or monitoring my bathroom visits!” “I would argue differently, sunshine,” he said drily. “Especially after last night’s activities.” “So I drank a little too much and got sick,” I said with a petulant frown. “Lots of college students do that and they don’t get reprimanded by their bodyguards the next morning! It’s part of college life!” “You really don’t remember what happened, do you?” he shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t remember how it all went down.” “What went down?” I shouted. “I remember that I was having fun with my friends drinking punch and dancing, and you were standing in the corner like a stick in the mud watching everything and creeping everyone out! That’s what I remember!”

“So, you don’t remember Cheese and his groping hands?” he asked. “No. What?” I demanded. “What in the hell are you talking about? All I remember is how damn boring you were while every other person at the party was relaxing, having a drink, and enjoying themselves. You acted like someone’s grandfather. No, I take that back. You acted like someone’s boring old judgmental brother!” “Bravo!” he laughed as he clapped his hands together slowly. “Bravo! What a wonderful performance by Ms. Klein. You really are brilliant, you know?” “What in the hell are you even talking about?” I was utterly confused now. “I’m talking about the fact that you’ve conveniently forgotten that you got so drunk that you wound up in the lap of the most lecherous frat boy on campus. The guy that is so bad, even his frat brothers don’t like him and are meeting today to decide whether to sanction him or expel him from the fraternity

for good,” he explained. “I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting away from him because you were too drunk to even stand on your own two feet. I’m talking about the fact that you spent an hour vomiting in the bathroom after I brought you back here last night, and I’m talking about the fact that you are so self-absorbed that you don’t even stop to think about the fact that I wasn’t at the party to have fun, I was there to protect your precious little ass!” By this point, Brian was pacing the room as he barked at me. Anxious and angry, he looked down at the floor as he paced; one hand on his head and the other on his gun. “Don’t you think I would have loved to have a drink last night? To kick back and have fun with you after what we did before the party? Did you ever think of that?” he continued, then he stopped pacing and looked at me as he quietly asked, “Did you ever think of that, Ava?” “No, I didn’t think of any of that,” I admitted as I felt the flush of shame rising in my cheeks. “I just thought you were

uptight and boring and you didn’t want me to have any fun. I mean, you didn’t even have one beer!” “I can’t have one beer!” he roared. “Of course you can!” I yelled back in exasperation. “Good lord, it’s just one beer, not a whole brewery!” “I can’t have even one beer because I’m an alcoholic!” he blurted. “There, are you happy now?” We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity as I considered what to say. I owed him an apology, for sure, but he owed me one for keeping such a huge secret. I was certain of that, but I didn’t know how to say it so that he wouldn’t start yelling again. “I’m sorry, Brian,” I offered. “I had no idea.” “Why would you?” he asked defensively. “I’m your employee, not your friend. You know nothing about me.” “Now that’s not fair!” I cried. “I think we’ve crossed over the employee/employer boundary and are something a bit more

than that, don’t you think?” “Whatever,” he grumbled as he resumed his pacing. “And if I know nothing about you, then that’s your fault,” I asserted. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. “You don’t ask me any questions about myself!” “Well, that’s because you’re not particularly inviting, now are you?” I said flippantly. “Not exactly the warm and fuzzy guy who invites people to get all cozy and engage in chit chat, are you?” “I have my reasons,” he grumbled. “I’m sure you do,” I replied. “But it still doesn’t make you easy to get to know, now does it? And if I don’t know you because you choose not to let me in, then it’s really not my fault, now is it?” He shrugged and walked toward the window. He pushed back the curtains and stood staring out the window for a long

time. I said nothing, partly because I had no idea what to say, but also because I figured that if we were going to change the course of this relationship, right now was as good a time as any to begin.

PROTECTOR #3

“So, what made you stop drinking?” I asked. “Long story,” he mumbled. “Well, it seems I’ve got nothing but time,” I replied in a slightly sassy tone. Brian smiled a little and then shrugged. “Seriously, I’ve told you all kinds of messed up stuff about me, now it’s your turn. I’m sincerely asking to know more about you.” “You really want to know?” he asked. “Yes, I really do want to know,” I replied, smiling. “It wasn’t hard to decide that I wanted to quit drinking,” he began. “It’s just that it took a lot longer to get to the point where I could stop.” “Why?” I asked. “Because by then it was both a part of who I was and a way

of dealing with all of the horrible stuff I’d seen,” he admitted. “Drinking is a part of Navy culture. It’s what you do to bond with other sailors, it’s how you spend your down time, and it’s what we did in the war zone to help us forget what we’d seen and, sometimes, what we’d done.” “So, when did you start drinking?” I asked as I sat up, pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on one as I watched him talk. “Oh, I started that when I was young,” he waved a hand dismissively as he chuckled. “My whole family was a bunch of drinkers who were into working hard and playing harder. The Navy was a tame version of what I’d grown up with, so I fit right in. And I could usually outdrink everyone. The problem was that in my family there was a strict line between work and play, and you knew when to stop playing and start working. In the Navy, that line got blurred after boot camp, and I watched a lot of really good sailors get sucked under when they couldn’t figure out where to draw it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you guys were under strict orders and that you couldn’t get away with stuff or you’d be kicked out.” I was confused, but intrigued at this inside look into his life. “It’s not like the movies, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said with a wry look. “We don’t have drill sergeants barking at us 24/7, and while we’re expected to keep things in tip-top shape, there’s a whole lot of leeway once you’re out of basic training. It’s like with anything, really. The rules start out super strict and then kind of lose their grip the more you know how to circumvent them.” “Oh, I get it,” I said. “It’s like boarding school. They crack down on the first years and then ease up when they know you know the rules, and you figure out how to work around them without totally flaunting that you’re breaking them.” “Yeah, kind of like that,” he said with an eye roll. “The Navy is totally like a rich boarding school.” “You know what I mean!” I laughed as I tossed a pillow at

his head and narrowly missed. “That aim might be good enough for boarding school, but you’d never make it in the Navy,” he laughed as he picked up the pillow and tossed it back at me, hitting me squarely in the face. “Well, I’m not a trained assassin!” I laughed harder. Brian stopped laughing and looked away. I waited for a moment and then offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” “I know,” he said. “Just hit a little too close to home.” “So, you were telling me about how you stopped drinking,” I reminded him. “A lot of the story is about how I started,” he said as he picked at the hem of my bedspread. “It became a habit while I was over here in the States, and then once we were deployed to Iraq, it became a necessity. It’s boring over there, a lot of sand and heat and not a lot to do when you’re not out on a mission. So, we lifted weights, played video games, and drank.”

“So it was the habit that made you stop?” I asked. “No, it was the nightmares,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the window. “I couldn’t control the nightmares when I drank, so I saw a shrink and he told me to stop drinking.” “And you did? Just like that?” “No, not ‘just like that’” he laughed sadly. “It took a stint in rehab to get dried out and then they tried to send me to a shrink to make sure it stuck, but I said no thanks. I’m fine with just not being drunk, I don’t need some doctor picking at my brain to find out why I’m drinking. I already know why.” “So, you went to rehab?” I asked. “Yeah, I had to get out of the environment I was in so that I had a fighting chance of quitting,” he watched me as he explained. “After I was discharged, I didn’t have a job lined up or anything, so I had to go back home for a while, but home is where the whole thing got worse.” “How so?”

“Well, like I said, they’re hard workers and hard drinkers, so I fit right in,” he stopped and looked away for a long while before turning back to face me. “They didn’t understand what had happened to me in Iraq. Hell, I don’t think I understood what had happened to me, but the nightmares got worse when I was home. I knew there was a problem, but I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. All I wanted to do was drink it away.” “But if the drinking was making it worse, why did you keep doing it?” I asked. “My life isn’t like yours, Ava,” he explained. “I don’t have a whole lot of options, you know? The VA makes you wait for everything, so even if I’d wanted treatment, I couldn’t have gotten it for months, but at that point, I didn’t even want it. I hadn’t hit bottom yet.” Not knowing what to say, I simply nodded as I listened. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant when he said that his life wasn’t like mine, but I knew if I listened, he’d explain. “It wasn’t until the night that I wrapped my car around a

utility pole on a dark county road and walked away without a scratch that I realized I had a real problem.” He took a deep breath. “I could have died, or worse, killed someone else, and, at that moment, I knew that if I didn’t get my drinking under control I most likely would.” “It’s a miracle that you weren’t killed,” I whispered. “Don’t think I don’t know that,” he said. “I thank the higher power every single day that I wake up!” “So if you’re sober, then why were you so mad about what happened last night?” I asked. “Look Ava, I know it’s hard for someone who has never had a problem with alcohol to understand, but it’s not something that ever goes away,” he turned and stared at me as he talked. “I haven’t lost the urge to drink, I’ve just gotten better at managing it, but last night reminded me how little it would take for me to tip it back over to the other side, and I just don’t want to find myself in the position of having to make that choice.”

“I’m so sorry, Brian,” I apologized. “I had no idea. I’m sorry that I took you to that party and I’m sorry I put you in that position.” “No apology necessary,” he waved me off. “You didn’t know.” “Yes, but now that I do, I promise not to do that again,” I vowed. “It’s not a crisis. I just don’t want to be tempted and find out that I’m not strong enough to resist temptation.” He smiled a little as he turned and walked toward the door. “Now, don’t you think you’ve stayed in bed long enough for one day? Get up and let’s get going!” “Yes, sir!” I laughed as I saluted. “Klein, your salute still sucks,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked out the door and left me to get dressed. “Hey, do you want to grab some breakfast and go take it out

by the lake?” I yelled as I pulled on my clothes. “Up to you,” came the response. “No, I’m giving you a choice!” I laughed. “I’m serious, it’s up to you, Ava,” he replied. “But it’s pretty nice outside today.” “Then all you had to do was say yes!” I shot back as I continued laughing. “You’re so frustrating sometimes!” “Yes. Yes I am,” he yelled back. “But then so are you, Ms. Klein. So. Are. You.” I laughed harder as I finished lacing up my shoes, then pulled my hair into a ponytail and grabbed my wallet and sunglasses. I looked around the room to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, and then, feeling guilty, I walked over and quickly made the bed. I rolled my eyes as I realized that Brian’s orderly ways were rubbing off on me, but then I smiled because it felt kind of nice to have a made bed for a change. As I walked out into the front room, Brian quickly put down his phone and

stood up. “Who was that?” I asked. “Oh, it’s nothing, just work,” he replied as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “Ready to go? Um, you might want to take a jacket, it’s a little chilly out there.” “Uh, okay, Mom,” I laughed as I grabbed my jacket and exited through the door he held open. “Hey! I’m just trying to be thoughtful!” he protested. “Yeah, I know, and it’s all sarcasm anyway. My mother would never remind me to take a jacket,” I said. “In fact, she would be more likely to tell me to leave it behind because it ruined the line of my dress or something.” Brian nodded as he closed the door and headed down the hallway. It was moments like these when I wasn’t sure if he wanted to comfort me or mock me, so I followed behind him and headed out into the sunshine. My head was still aching from all the alcohol, but the warm sun helped ease some of the pain

while simply being able to move helped my queasy stomach. When I suggested we stop by the corner fruit market and pick up something for our breakfast picnic, Brian nodded and led the way. We wandered the aisles of the market choosing bread, cheese, fruit, and two huge cups of coffee to top it off. At the register, I swiped my card and smiled at the cashier as Brian grabbed the bag, and for a moment, it felt like my life was entirely normal. I was a normal college girl here at the store with her normal boyfriend getting some food for a normal picnic on a normal Saturday morning, but as the reality set in, I felt deflated. My life was anything but normal, and Brian wasn’t my boyfriend. He was only here to protect me from my psychotic ex-boyfriend who wanted me back. I shook my head to try and rid myself of the thoughts that were spinning in my mind. “You okay?” Brian asked. “Yeah, I’m fine, just…” I trailed off as we walked toward the river looking for a nice spot to lay out our meal.

“Just what?” he asked curiously. “I’m just thinking about how normal this all looks and how not normal it is,” I replied. “Ah, yes. Psychological dissonance, a good friend of mine,” he smiled as he reached up and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be okay in the end, and if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end!” “Oh my God, you did not just say that,” I blurted. “Yep, I sure did!” he chuckled. “I thought you might appreciate the humor.” “I appreciate your attempt at humor,” I said dryly as I raised an eyebrow behind my sunglasses. “Oooh, harsh! You’re a tough audience!” he laughed harder at my feeble attempt to maintain a straight face, and soon I, too, was laughing as we walked. As we walked along the river in silence, I thought about

how much had changed in the past several days, and how grateful I was to have Brian around to help me through it. I’d been really angry at my father for going behind my back and hiring Brian, but I had to grudgingly admit that it had been a good choice, and not just because he and I had chemistry. I actually found myself enjoying being around him. There was a comfortable sense of familiarity in our pairing, and I liked the fact that even though I enjoyed talking with him, I didn’t feel like I had to always be talking. I snuck a peek at him in my peripheral sight and thought about how handsome he was. Tall and broad-shouldered, he walked like a man who had a clear sense of purpose and didn’t seem to be afraid of anything – not even talking about the difficult parts of his recovery process. Although, there was more to that, I knew, and I wanted to hear about the whole thing, but right now didn’t seem like the time to continue the conversation. Plus, I was enjoying the companionable silence. “You’re quiet,” I said softly as we walked.

“Just thinking,” he replied. “Dare I ask what about?” “Dunno,” he shrugged. “Lots of things; how nice the sunshine feels on my face, how the water sparkles when the light hits it, how nice it is to be able to walk along in silence and not feel awkward. It’s nice.” Afraid to continue interrupting the silence, I simply nodded in agreement and earned a wide smile from Brian. We walked for a few more minutes until I spotted the perfect place for our picnic. “Oooooh, c’mon!” I shouted as I took off running towards a place next to the river that was covered in clean, green moss; almost as if someone had laid down a blanket for us on the green. Brian smiled again as he followed with the bag of goodies, and, once he reached my chosen spot, began methodically unpacking it. After he’d finished setting out the food, he leaned back on his elbows and watched me, or at least I thought he was watching me—it was hard to tell when he was wearing his sunglasses.

***** “How’s your breakfast?” Brian asked as he popped a ripe, red strawberry into his mouth. “It’s helping,” I smiled as I took another bite of my bread and cheese. My stomach was still queasy from the night before, but breakfast and the fresh air were helping calm it. “Laying off the partying might also help,” he said in a mock-fatherly tone that caused me to do a double take. “Yeah, well…” I hesitated. “It’s not like I party every night. I mean, some people around here are out of control. I just let loose on the weekends.” “So this is how you spend all of your Saturdays?” he asked. “No!” I objected. “Well, kind of…” “I see.” “What? Are you saying I have a problem?” I felt defensive and resented his insinuation. “I don’t, you know. I don’t have a problem.”

“Uh huh,” he nodded without saying anything. “I don’t!” I protested. “I party on the weekends and I attend class and get good grades! I’m not a screw-up who can’t control herself.” From behind his dark glasses, Brian looked at me without saying a word. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Of course you did,” he said with a shrug. “But you’re not talking about me, you’re talking about you.” “I just meant that I have a handle on what I’m doing and it’s not getting in the way of my classes,” I explained. “But I can see where it might be a good idea not to do this every weekend.” “Your call,” he said as he sipped from his steaming Styrofoam cup. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t wish I could party sometimes. I do. It’s just that the consequences are so awful that I know that if I did, I’d probably wind up in jail—or worse.”

“It’s that bad for you?” I asked as I reached for a berry. “It’s that bad,” he affirmed. “Well, it’s not that bad for me,” I said. “I don’t drink to avoid anything, it’s more like…” “Like you use it to become someone else when being plain old you isn’t good enough?” he finished. “Yeah, it’s a lot like that,” I admitted. “Sometimes I just want to escape from my own skin and be someone else. Someone who is totally not me.” “I get it,” he affirmed. “My problem was that I drank because I never wanted to be myself and alcohol was the only way to avoid being me.” “I don’t want to avoid being me all the time, I just drink when I feel like I’m becoming the me I used to be,” I admitted. “Either way, there are days I still have to fight to hold on and accept that I’m the me that I am right now—even when I don’t like that me,” he said.

“Well, I can assure you that the you that you’ve become is still not missing out on much in terms of the aftereffects,” I said with a grim look. “Oh, I recall those mornings,” he laughed. “Somehow the memories never really go away. Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise.” “Maybe…” I responded. “How did you get past these awful mornings? What did you do instead?” “That’s when I really developed a love of the great outdoors,” Brian said brightly. “Weren’t you always in the outdoors in the Navy?” I asked as I ate another strawberry. “I’ve always loved nature, but the SEALs training wasn’t really about being ‘one with nature’,” he explained. “We spent a lot of time outside, but it was less about appreciating the surroundings and more about defending the territory or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” I questioned. I was genuinely interested in what he’d done and seen while in the service, but I didn’t know how to ask about it without sounding like a gawking jerk. “Yeah, whatever,” he said firmly, closing the door on that line of inquiry. “SEALs training is all about rescue and survival tactics, so I learned a lot about how to live on very little food and how to navigate my way out of just about any location on the face of the earth, but I didn’t spend a whole lot of time contemplating my human existence. I mean, we were, after all, there to do a job.” “But aren’t you guys the ones who do all the brave heroic rescues?” I asked. “Aren’t you the ones that whenever someone is in trouble the president calls and asks to solve the problem?” “Oh yeah, definitely,” he said as he dramatically rolled his eyes. “We’re on the president’s speed dial, best buds and all.” Before I could stop it, a small burble of laughter escaped from my lips and I quickly bit my tongue to contain it. Sheepishly, I looked over at Brian, only to find him shaking with

silent laughter himself. “You’re so mean!” I cried. “What? I’m mean?” he laughed harder at my mock outrage. “Because I’m laughing at the fact that you think Navy SEALs are gods?” “No! I mean, yes! Wait, what?” I was confused. “Why are you laughing?” “Because you take me so seriously,” he chuckled. “Shouldn’t I?” “Sometimes, you should,” he replied as he took another sip of his coffee. “Ick! Isn’t that cold by now?” I interjected as I watched him drink. “A little, but it’s not bad,” he said taking another sip. “You should have tasted the stuff we drank while out on patrol. Now that was disgusting.”

“I can’t even imagine,” I said as I poured the last bit of my own cold coffee onto the riverbank and tossed the empty cup into the trash bag. “And yet you still like to be outdoors? Roughing it?” “Oh, my outdoor treks couldn’t even remotely be considered roughing it,” he laughed again. “I camp in relative luxury these days. A sleeping bag, food supplies, and dry socks are all I need to get out and get away from civilization and all its headaches. It helps me stay sane and balanced.” I nodded as I listened to him describe the beauty of solo trekking and the ways in which it kept him grounded and focused on what mattered—sobriety. “Have you ever been camping, Ava?” he asked. “Who? Me?” I was shocked by the question, and I laughed as I said, “Have you actually met me?” Brian’s response was loud, deep laughter that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. I’d never heard someone

laugh so hard at something I’d said, and his laughter sparked my own. “Right, I can see it now,” he gasped. “You’d bring a backpack full of shoes and hair products!” “No, I wouldn’t!” I cried indignantly. “I’d have some makeup, too!” Brian roared and added another layer to the list of things I’d be packing for a camping trip, to which I added a few more essentials. Soon we were laying on the riverbank laughing so hard we both had tears rolling down our cheeks. It took a while for us to calm down, but once we did, Brian pushed himself up to lean on his elbow and gave me a serious look. “Stick with me and you’ll learn to pack properly, kid.” “Uh, you’re not that much older than me, soldier,” I replied smiling. “And I can pretty much guarantee that I’m probably not going to get on board with this full-on camping agenda.” “Never say never,” he shot back smiling. “I never do,” I laughed.

***** As Brian reached out to run his fingers through my hair, the sound of cracking branches put us both on alert. There was something moving in the bushes down on the riverbank, and in an instant, Brian was on his feet with one hand on the gun under his hoodie. He motioned to me to stay where I was. I nodded and waited in silence as he checked our surroundings. Another twig snapped, and Brian crouched low to the ground as he moved quickly toward the sound. I opened my mouth to ask him what he thought it was, but he held up his hand in the universal sign for “stop” and I swallowed my question. As he swept his eyes across the brush-covered bank, I could see his hand tighten on the butt of his gun. I held my breath as he pushed back a clump of branches. Nothing. He moved to the next pile of brush, and as he pushed a few branches aside, a small, frightened bunny scurried out and ran across the grass toward the safety of an unmolested bush. I let out a small, startled scream, and quickly covered my mouth as

Brian shot me a warning look followed by an amused grin. He quickly scanned the rest of the bank and found nothing out of order, I looked up at him and said, “Maybe it was just the bunny meeting up with a bird or a squirrel in the underbrush?” “Yeah, maybe,” he said, laughing a little as he sat back down next to me. His eyes never stopped scanning the bushes even as he returned to absently stroking my hair. Although he’d snapped back into the role of my bodyguard, I still saw him as the fun guy he’d been only minutes before, and I wanted to find a way back to the carefree conversation we’d been having before the underbrush noises interrupted us. I tried putting my hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off, and when I reached up and stroked his cheek, he looked down only briefly before returning to his watch. “Hey, Brian?” I said quietly. “Yeah? What?” He was back in scanning mode and paid little attention to me and our picnic as he continued his lookout.

“Hello?” I said a little louder. “Ava, what do you want?” his voice was both irritated and worried, so I stopped pushing and just sat quietly as he attempted to figure out what had made the noise in the bushes. I appreciated the care and concern, but I also wanted the guy who’d been having such a good time with me back as quickly as possible. So, I hopped up and walked over to the bushes and pulled them apart with my hands, yelling, “Hey! Whoever you are, come out right now and stop playing around!” An instant later, I felt the full weight of a body violently shoving me to the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of me as I landed on my back on the bank. I looked up to see Dominic’s face hovering over me. “You ungrateful little bitch,” he hissed. “After everything I’ve done for you, you go and do this to me? With this loser of a boyfriend?” I struggled to catch my breath as I tried to push him away, but he’d managed to wrap a hand around my neck and was

cutting off my air. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. “You’re going to pay for this,” he threatened. “You will pay for your disloyalty.” Then, I felt his hand leave my throat as Brian yelled, “Let go of her now or I’ll shoot you, and no one will blame me!” Dominic stood up and looked at Brian for a moment; his bold stare dared Brian to do something, and when nothing happened, he spit on the ground and said in a derisive tone, “That’s what I thought, you coward. You can’t even protect her.” Dominic began laughing as he continued mocking Brian. “What a wimp! You’re holding a gun, and you can’t even protect her. I don’t know what you see in this sad excuse for a man, Ava. He has nothing but a gun, and he’s too afraid to use it!” By that point, I’d caught my breath and was looking up at Brian, trying to will him not to shoot the gun he held. I knew it could go either way, so I lay there quietly for a moment hoping that Dominic would do what he usually did and walk away, but

when he didn’t move, I became afraid that he was planning something sinister. I looked up at Brian, willing him to understand what I was thinking, and he nodded. “Dom, just stop,” I said quietly as I pulled myself up from the ground. “This makes no sense. You and I are over, and you know it. Why do you keep trying to get me back when you know it’s over?” “Because it’s not over, you stupid little girl,” he sneered. “You belong to me, and I want you back.” “But you moved on, Dom,” I reminded him as I watched Brian reach into his back pocket. “You got together with Jordan and you moved on!” “Jordan?” he laughed. “What the hell? She’s a stupid slut who opens her legs for every man who looks at her. Why would I want a little girl like that? I want a smart, educated woman who will help me achieve my career goals, and that woman is you.”

“You just called me a little girl,” I said with more than a bit of resentment in my voice. Brian still held the gun on Dominic, but I could see that he’d managed to move his phone to the front pocket of his hoodie, and I hoped that he was adept at blind dialing. “You know what I mean, Ava,” he said as he turned and looked at me. There was something in his look, a kind of coldness that I’d only seen once before, and I shivered at the memory before I looked away. “Ditch this loser and come home with me. You know I can offer you more than he can even dream of. I mean, what does he have? A frayed hoodie, old sneakers and a gun? Really?” I could see Brian bristle as Dominic pointed out where he was lacking, and I shot a quick look at Brian, hoping that he wouldn’t get caught up in this imaginary pissing match and do something stupid. I could hear the sound of all three of us breathing, and for long seconds none of us moved, and then hearing the sound of sirens in the distance, Dominic suddenly

turned and ran back toward campus; his long legs pumping fast as he made his escape. For a moment, I thought Brian was going to give chase, but instead, he was at my side in an instant, urging me not to move while he checked me for injuries. I tried to assure him that I was fine, but he methodically checked my limbs, torso, and then cringed as he saw the fingerprints Dominic had left on my neck when he’d cut off my air. “That son of a bitch is going to pay for this,” he muttered. “Brian, don’t,” I warned. “Just don’t. He’s not worth it.” ***** “Is everything okay over here?” the campus security officer called as he walked across the grass. “We got an emergency call from this area, but it didn’t identify who the caller was.” “Yes, we’re fine, officer,” I said in a voice that was far more cheerful than I felt. Brian gave me a strange look, but followed my lead and nodded. I exchanged pleasantries with the officer

for a few minutes and when he asked how my father was doing, I saw Brian’s eyebrow raise as he suddenly understood my reticence to get the officer involved in the situation. “Alright, well, tell your parents I send my best and thank them for the housewarming gift they sent, will you?” he smiled as he shook my hand and then Brian’s before turning and heading back to his car. “Does your father know everyone?” Brian asked. “Just about,” I replied with a grimace. “I feel like I’m always under surveillance.” Brian winced as the words hit their mark, then turned and said, “But maybe he’s got good reasons for trying to ensure your safety.” It was my turn to wince, and I nodded and then shrugged. “Perhaps.” “I think we should head back to the dorm, Ava,” Brian suggested. “Who knows where that nutjob went, and if you’re

not going to report him, then we need to be somewhere safer so I can better monitor the situation.” “Why do we have to let him dictate what we do?” I protested. “He ran off like the coward he is, so there’s nothing to worry about!” “Unfortunately, I do think there’s something to worry about,” Brian said seriously. “He’s obviously becoming bolder and more dangerous. He choked you, Ava!” “That?” I said. “Oh, that’s nothing! I’m used to that with him, and that’s not violent.” Brian stood staring at me with his mouth open for a long while before he shook his head and bent down to pick up the trash bag and remnants of our picnic. “I don’t even want to know…” he murmured as he put his hand on my lower back and guided me back to the path that led to campus. “Ava, he is getting progressively bolder and I’m afraid he’s using these confrontations as a means of measuring how much he can get away with.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I was used to Dominic’s strange and erratic behavior, after all, I’d lived with him for a year and things had been much weirder back then. Brian had no way of knowing that this was mild in comparison to what Dominic used to be like. “I mean, I think he is planning to really harm you,” Brian said. “I don’t think you’re safe.” I nodded to indicate that I understood what he was saying, but down deep, I didn’t actually believe Dominic was capable of doing anything that bad. How could he hurt me? He said he loved me, didn’t he? The thoughts raced through my brain as we briskly walked back to the dorm. The earlier playfulness had disappeared, and I felt frustrated. “He’s not a bad person, you know,” I said quietly. “He was actually quite good to me at times.” “Oh, really?” Brian said as he scanned the path ahead of us never taking his hand off of the gun at his side. “Could have fooled me.”

“You don’t have to be so judgmental,” I pouted. “I’m not being judgmental at all,” he replied. “I’m simply concerned about your safety as it’s my job to ensure it, and if you won’t report him, then I have to figure out another way to keep you safe.” “Yeah, that’s right, don’t piss off my father,” I was being stubborn and I knew it, but he was being stubborn, too. “God forbid that Daddy Dearest gets wind of this mess and actually steps in and says something.” For the rest of the walk back to the dorm, Brian said nothing. He simply scanned the landscape from behind his dark glasses while I stomped ahead; angry for reasons I wasn’t even sure I understood. ***** “So, tell me more about Dominic,” Brian said as he locked the door to my dorm room and then double-checked it to make sure no one could get in.

“There’s nothing more to tell,” I replied as I grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Brian walked over and shut it off, then turned and stared at me for a minute. “I’m serious,” he said. “I need to know what happened between the two of you.” “You know, sometimes you are a real pain in the ass,” I said with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to talk about Dominic or my relationship with him or anything else about my life if you’re going to be so judgmental!” “Ava, you don’t understand,” he said as he sat down on the couch next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not trying to be judgmental, I want to know more about you and Dominic so that I can figure out how to better protect you.” “Well, it feels more like an inquisition than an inquiry,” I shot back. I sat staring out the window for a long time. I couldn’t look at Brian because I didn’t want him to see what I was thinking,

but I knew that he was right. The more I could tell him about Dominic, the better he’d be able to anticipate his next move. I was torn, though. I didn’t know if I could go back down that road and tell Brian about my life with Dominic while I felt so conflicted about it. I wasn’t sure if Brian would understand why I still felt drawn to Dominic despite what had happened and why I’d left. Heck, I wasn’t even sure I understood it. “Ava, it’s okay,” Brian said. “I know this isn’t easy for you to talk about, but I’m not going to judge you. What happened is in the past, but I need as much information as possible to keep you safe.” “I know,” I admitted. “But I don’t like the fact that I need protection in the first place. I don’t like needing someone else to keep me safe.” “I know you don’t,” he said. “But right now it’s the reality, and you have to accept that.”

I looked away and thought about how this entire situation had gotten so far out of control. How do I tell him about this whole mess? What is he going to think of me? As my mind raced, I thought about what I’d already told him about Dominic and tried to figure out how to explain the darker parts of our relationship. I wasn’t sure he could handle it, and I wasn’t sure that I would be able to handle his reaction, but I knew that Brian wasn’t simply going to stop asking questions. I took a deep breath and began. “He wasn’t always like this,” I explained. “Or at least, he hid it really well at the beginning of our relationship. He was so incredibly sweet and attentive. He’d bring me flowers and little gifts, things that showed he’d been paying attention to what I did and said.” Brian nodded as he listened, and I cringed as I thought about how these acts of kindness had actually been manipulation rather than love. “It took me a really long time to realize that he’s a sadist,” I

said as calmly as I could. “He enjoys torturing people and he does it often, and without remorse. In fact, he actually finds his sadistic games arousing.” Brian reached down and took my hand as he listened intently. He didn’t say a word as I spilled the sordid details of Dominic’s twisted games; he simply listened. “I was so naive when I got together with him,” I explained. “I didn’t understand that he was grooming me to become his partner in crime, and once I’d been dragged to the depths of misery, I didn’t know how to get out. It began so simply, he’d show me something and then tell me it was our secret. He’d confess something and frame it as shameful or hideous so that I’d be compelled to reassure him that it wasn’t. He’d entice me to extend the boundaries of our relationship, both physical and emotional, and then praise me when I’d go with him or punish me if I refused. I can see it now, but at the time, I was so desperate for his attention and affection that I let it cloud everything.”

“It’s okay,” Brian said quietly. “It’s not your fault.” “Oh, I know that,” I said, rolling my eyes dramatically. I’d been told that more times than I could count, and I was tired of hearing the mantra only because I didn’t fully believe it. I still felt like I was responsible for so much of the twisted activities that Dominic had dragged me into, mostly because I hadn’t had the strength to say no. “I’m serious, Ava,” Brian repeated. “It’s not your fault.” “Just stop, okay?” I pleaded. He nodded and squeezed my hand. “It took a couple of months, but I can see now how he was grooming me by breaking me down. He’d get angry about some small infraction of the ‘rules’ that only he knew existed, and then he’d punish me. At first it was just silence, but after the Chem exam incident, he began regularly beating me for all kinds of things. He was so good at it…” Brian didn’t move a muscle as I told the story. “He knew just how to slap me hard enough to hurt, but not

so hard that it left a mark,” I said, shaking my head. “Or he would leave marks where no one could see them. And as our sex life got more adventurous, he’d often extend the boundaries into non-sexual aspects and make them part of some twisted game. He’d frequently ask to tie me up and practice with his cane. It got so confusing, you know? The boundaries got blurred in a way that I didn’t know what I had actually consented to, and that cane…” “The cane?” Brian asked confused. “He had a long, thin cane, about the length of a pool cue,” I said, wincing as I recalled the whistle it would make as it sliced through the air just before slamming into my flesh. “He’d always say that I had the best ass to practice on because it was fleshy enough to take the blows. And he always made me thank him for it as he cleaned my wounds after he was done. He’d dab alcohol on my raw skin, and I’d cry until he finished and then he’d pull me close and stroke my hair. Sometimes he’d tell me how wonderful I was for allowing him to practice something he

enjoyed so much, and other times he’d tell me how if I’d just behave the way he wanted me to, he’d never have to use the cane on me again. I was always trying to figure out what was going on, but the rules were always changing, and I never knew what they would be from one day to the next.” Brian nodded as he listened. There was something about the look in his eyes that told me he understood what I was talking about. He didn’t seem to be judging me, and that made it easier to open up and tell him more. “He was always plotting revenge on someone,” I said. “He had a list of grudges a mile long, and he told me that these people deserved what they got because they’d broken some rule of his. He was absolutely obsessed with rules and following them, but the weird thing was that he never felt like the rules applied to him. When I’d ask him to tell me what rules he lived by, he’d punish me for being sassy. So I stopped asking and just learned to watch closely so I could figure out what he might want on any given day. But he was never predictable. One day

he’d want me to be sweet and innocent and dress in pretty flowered dresses and accompany him to the zoo or a museum, and the next day he’d be yelling at me about dressing like an immature child when he wanted to be with a woman. It was beyond confusing. I had so many different wardrobes and he was constantly changing his mind about how he wanted me to dress and behave.” I looked away as I recounted the day that I decided not to get up and get dressed until Dominic told me what he wanted me to be. I’d stayed in bed, waiting for him to get out of the shower, and when he entered the room he flew into a rage because I wasn’t up and ready to go. He’d yanked me out of bed and screamed in my face about how lazy I was and demanding that I get up and get dressed. When I asked him where we were going, he’d told me I was being rude and disrespectful and told me I’d need to learn how to follow directions. I was so completely confused, but I’d gotten out of bed and headed to the shower. On the way, I made the mistake of asking where we

were going so that I could figure out how I was supposed to dress, and he flew into a rage and beat me until I lay on the floor sobbing as the blood ran from my nose and mouth. “When he was done, he looked at me and said ‘Go wash your face’ and walked out of the room,” I said as tears slid down my cheeks. Wisely, Brian didn’t move a muscle. He watched and waited until I continued. “I didn’t leave the apartment for two weeks—I couldn’t, not with the black eye and swollen lip. He wouldn’t even look at me. He’d come home and treat me as if I were a piece of furniture. I felt like nothing, like I didn’t exist. It wasn’t until I’d healed that he began talking to me again, and then he was loving and kind. He brought me flowers and chocolates every day. He’d take me out to incredible restaurants or book us a flight to some exotic locale for the weekend, and he’d treat me like a queen while we were there. He’d make love to me in a way that made me feel like he really did love me more than anyone else, and I’d be seduced into thinking that he’d changed. That this time it could be different;

that he really loved me and that everything that had happened before had been in my imagination.” Brian squeezed my hand tightly. “Until the next time I’d break one of his rules,” I whispered. “And then he’d punish me in ways that…” I shook my head as I tried to clear the memories. I just couldn’t go back down that horrible hole of pain and self-loathing. “He’d punish you to try and rid himself of his own pain,” Brian said quietly. “You were his canvas.” I looked up, surprised that he had been able to voice my thoughts so clearly, and shocked that he wasn’t condemning me. I nodded slightly. “I don’t understand it,” I said. “I don’t understand how he could use me the way he did, and I don’t understand how I allowed myself to be used! I actually felt sorry for him more often than I felt sorry for myself!” “It’s classic Stockholm Syndrome,” Brian explained. “The

abuser psychologically manipulates the victim to the point that the victim feels sympathy for him.” “I know,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “We’re studying this in Psych class, remember?” “I do remember,” he said. “But I don’t think you understand how it works. I think you’re being incredibly hard on yourself because you don’t believe that it actually exists and that you are a victim.” “No, I get it. I get it,” I said. “I was abused, I developed Stockholm Syndrome, I was rescued, I’m fine.” “Ava,” Brian squeezed my hand again. “It’s not that simple. You can’t just intellectualize abuse and expect that the experience will disappear. Dominic did a number on you and you’re still trying to recover from it. Granted, you’re doing a damn sight better than most people, but you’re still suffering.” “I’m not suffering!” I shouted. “It was my stupid fault that I got into the situation in the first place!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I mean, I started dating Dominic to get back at my parents, so it’s my fault that I ended up with a psychopathic lunatic!” “You can’t actually believe that,” he said solemnly. “What other explanation is there for it?” I asked. I was pissed at him for lecturing me and for trying to upend my own logical explanation for what had happened and how it had happened. “Ava, you didn’t invite a psychopathic lunatic into your life,” he said calmly. “You fell for a guy who manipulated your feelings and abused your body until you didn’t know which end was up. That wasn’t your fault. Psychopaths don’t have a conscience like normal people, so they don’t operate within the same rules as people with a conscience. That’s not your fault.” “But if I hadn’t been so stubborn and tried to rebel against my parents…” I trailed off. “That has nothing to do with it either,” he said. “Millions of

kids rebel against their parents every day, but that doesn’t mean that they are responsible for the behavior of people like Dominic or that they deserve to be abused because they rebelled.” “But I made the choice!” I yelled. “Yes, but you made the choice based on the faulty information fed to you by a person who was looking to manipulate and abuse you,” he said quietly. “You’re not responsible for his reprehensible behavior.” I angrily pulled away from him and buried my face in my hands as I began to sob quietly. When he reached up to touch my shoulder, I shrunk back, and he withdrew his hand. “It’s okay, Ava,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” “I’m never going to feel normal again!” I sobbed. “No, you probably won’t,” he agreed. “But you’re strong and you have a bright spirit that can withstand just about anything, so you’re going to be okay. I promise. It’s just going to

take time.” “How do you know?” I wept. “I just do,” he replied as he looked out the window. Then he turned back and asked, “What did your parents think of him?” “I told you, they never met him,” I said. “Oh, that’s right. You did tell me that, but why didn’t they meet him?” “They’re always too busy to be bothered,” I replied. “They drop me off places and then they jet off to whatever meeting or vacation they have planned and forget that I exist until they need me for some publicity campaign or someone makes them feel guilty about ignoring their only child. It’s pretty predictable, really.” “You’re not serious,” he said. “Dead serious. They just don’t care about what I do until it affects them,” I said. “The only reason that my father hired you is because he’s testing the waters to see if he should run for

Congress and he didn’t want the psycho ex-boyfriend of his only daughter to mess up his polling numbers. If he decides not to run, I’m sure he’ll fire you quicker than you can say boo.” “C’mon, your dad can’t be that bad,” he said. “Oh, he’s worse,” I replied. “He doesn’t do anything for anyone unless he can see how it benefits him.” “Well, as long as I’m on the payroll, I’ll do everything I can to ensure you’re safe,” he said. “And when you’re not on it anymore?” I asked. “I’ll stick around and make sure you are safe,” he replied as he put his arm around me. I nodded and then looked away. ***** We sat silent for a long time, and I could tell that my revelation about my family didn’t sit well with Brian, but I didn’t know how to make it seem better than it was. Part of me didn’t want to make it seem better because that was my problem

to begin with, everything was always painted as a pretty picture rather than looking at the ugly reality. “I’m doing a lot better than I was,” I said quietly. “Oh? How so?” he asked. “I see a therapist and I’ve been able to work towards asserting myself rather than just taking whatever is offered,” I said. “That explains it,” Brian said with a small grin. “Explains what?” “Your stubbornness,” he grinned. “I am not stubborn!” I shouted, and then burst into laughter as I heard myself. Brian’s laughter mingled with mine, and together we filled the air with the melody of happier sounds. “What else have you learned?” he asked once we’d wiped our eyes and quieted down. “I’ve stopped trying to please everyone else,” I said.

“Instead, I’m working on doing the things that make me happy. I think that’s the biggest one, really.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that my entire life has been centered on doing whatever it takes to get my parents to love me and pay attention to me,” I said honestly. “I’ve always tried to be the good girl; the good student, the good citizen, the good daughter. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or upset the balance. I’ve tried to be invisible while also trying to get someone to notice that I exist. I was a people pleaser to the extreme, and it was exhausting. I can see how I was the perfect target for Dominic; the ultimate pet who was constantly seeking his approval.” I cringed as I recalled the ways in which I would grovel in order to get his approval. I wasn’t ready to share that part of things with Brian; he’d never look at me the same again once he knew. Plus, I didn’t want him telling my parents how dark my life had become and how humiliated I’d been. “How’s that working for you?” he asked.

“It’s a work in progress, but it’s much better than it used to be,” I said. “Now, I figure out what I need first, and then think about what other people need. No more putting everyone else’s needs before my own, and no more denying who I am in order to make someone else feel comfortable.” “That is probably the healthiest way to live one’s life,” he smiled. “But it’s not always easy to do, is it?” “It’s really not easy at all,” I said. “I find myself constantly pulled back into the bad habits I’ve spent a lifetime developing, and then I get depressed because it feels like I’ll never change. I lose hope and, well, you see what happens.” I shrugged as I tipped my head and grimaced, recalling the previous night. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Brian offered. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” “God, I hate that phrase,” I muttered. “Why does everyone think that’s at all helpful?” “I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “You’re right, it’s kind of stupid

to say that to someone who is in the middle of something really stressful and trying to change the situation.” “It really is,” I said earnestly. Brian leaned back on the couch and pulled me toward him. I resisted for a moment, and then let myself be pulled into his embrace. It felt good to have his strong arms wrapped around me and feel his chin resting on the top of my head. I pressed my cheek against his chest and listened to him breathing as I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax. “That’s it,” he whispered into my hair as he gently stroked my back. “Just relax. You’re safe with me, Ava. I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you while you’re with me.” I nodded slowly and tried to believe that what he was promising was true, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to let go and trust him. I wanted to, but I also knew that people often made promises that they couldn’t keep—even when they wanted to. Maybe he’ll be different.

***** “What was it like growing up so rich?” Brian asked as he continued to run his hands up and down my back. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean, I grew up in a family that lived paycheck to paycheck, so I can’t imagine what it would be like to have all that money,” he admitted. “I’m just curious what it was like.” “Well, it’s not as great as you’d think,” I said. “I mean, it’s great in the sense that you don’t have to worry about anything. You always have everything you need and often times even more than you need. I always had new clothes and the best books and games, but then, so did most of my friends, so it was like that was the normal way things were.” I sat and thought about it for a while, and then I tried to explain. “Until I came to college, I really didn’t know anyone who didn’t live like my family lived. It wasn’t that I was totally unaware that other people lived differently than we did, it just wasn’t my reality.”

“That makes sense,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t know what it was like not to live like we lived.” “I don’t want to compare our lives,” I said. “But being wealthy has it’s own set of challenges that, in many ways, make things less stable. There are rules and ways of behaving that don’t make sense in any other environment, and I always felt like I was being watched. However, I also always felt like I was absolutely alone. Like there was no one there to take care of me because they wanted to, everyone was only part of my life because my father paid them.” I stopped and looked up at him. “It’s true,” he said. “I’m here because you father hired me, but I’m staying because I care about you, Ava.” “That’s what they always say,” I lamented. “Until the money stops flowing and they go away. I don’t feel like anyone in my life is permanent because I know that money determines their loyalty.” “Even your friends?” he asked.

“Lara and Jessie are my friends until they decide that they need someone more powerful or richer to lead the group,” I said. “Wow, that’s kind of sad.” “Is it?” I asked. “Or is it simply pragmatic? If I know that most people are going to abandon ship when the money runs out, why would I spend time expecting them to stay?” Brian considered this for a moment and then nodded in understanding. “I think that’s why I was so drawn to Dominic,” I said. “He didn’t need me for the money. His family is 10 times wealthier than mine, and so if my money ran out it really didn’t matter. I wanted to believe that he loved me just for me and not for what I could do for him or what I could give him.” “That makes sense,” Brian agreed. “The problem was that he also knew that I was the poor little rich girl whose parents really didn’t have a whole lot to do with her, so he knew he could exploit me, but that’s getting

away from what you asked,” I reminded him. He nodded and then said, “Back to what it was like growing up.” “I was lonely,” I said. “It’s hard to be an only child of really rich parents. They filled my days with all kinds of activities and lessons, and while I’m not complaining about all of the advantages I have because of those things, I always felt so isolated. Alone.” “Didn’t you have any friends?” he asked. “Kids you could play with and talk to?” “You don’t understand,” I explained. “In my world, kids playing together was akin to corporate executives getting together for a round of golf. You could be friendly, but you never revealed the secrets behind the mask. I knew better than to talk about my parents or explain how I felt to any of the kids I played with because they might have told their parents, and then the balance of power would have shifted and it could have cost my father money. It’s always about the money.”

“Jesus, what the hell kind of world is that?” he asked. “It’s a brutal world,” I admitted. “It’s being raised to understand that you are competing with other kids at all times and that the weak will lose. It’s always about winning. And in order to win, you can never, ever let your guard down.” We sat in silence as my words sunk in, and then Brian said, “I grew up in a neighborhood where we kicked each other’s asses, but we also had each other’s backs when the shit hit the fan.” “I’ve always wondered what that would feel like,” I admitted. “What it would be like to know that someone always had your back, no matter what. I’ve always felt the opposite of that. Like I’d be torn down and destroyed if I ever let my guard down for even a second, so I developed a really mean outer persona.” “You, mean?” he said incredulously. “I can’t even imagine it.”

“Oh, believe it,” I said. “I was the ultimate mean girl, but it was totally based on fear and the need to keep everyone at a safe distance.” “What changed it?” he asked. “You don’t want to know,” I said. “Yeah, actually, I do,” he whispered into my hair. “You won’t like me if I tell you,” I replied. “I promise that I’ll still like you,” he said. “We’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t. But those of us who’ve learned from the experience never forget it.” I tipped my chin up to look at him as he said this, but his face gave nothing away. “I was in high school, at an East Coast boarding school, and there was a girl who had a nervous breakdown because we bullied her relentlessly,” I took a deep breath. “It was my fault, I think. I was so mean to her and told her that no one liked her.” “Why did you do that?” he asked, without moving away.

“I…I…I…was jealous,” I stammered. “Of what?” I looked down at the floor and thought about how to explain myself, and then decided that the truth was the best choice. I took a deep breath and said, “The fact that her parents obviously loved her because they were always sending her care packages and came to visit her every few weeks. I was so envious and I hated her for making me feel so unloved, so I tortured her.” “Like I said, we all do things that we later regret,” Brian said gently. “The question is whether we learn from our mistakes and avoid repeating them.” “Oh, I learned alright,” I whispered. “I will never forget the lesson I learned.” “What happened?” “We bullied her so relentlessly that she tried to kill herself in order to escape,” I said in a small voice. “She didn’t succeed, but she never came back to school. I don’t know what happened

to her, but I’ve always hoped that her life got much better after her parents took her out of our nest of vipers.” “Stop beating yourself up,” he said. “Kids do cruel things because they learn their behavior from the adults around them. Do you still treat people that badly?” “No! I’ll never be that cruel again!” I cried. “Then let it go,” he said. “You’re not that person anymore, so stop torturing yourself as if you were.” “You sound like you know a lot about this kind of thing,” I observed as I looked up at him. Brian shrugged and looked out the window on the other side of the room; his eyes focused on some point far off in the distance. “Yeah, well, the military is kind of similar to your boarding school,” he said. “Only more brutal, I think.” “You’ve obviously never lived with high school girls,” I said with a grim grin. “No, that’s true, I never have,” he smiled a bit. “Maybe we

should recruit them into the military as stealth fighters?” I laughed out loud at the thought of the privileged girls from my boarding school having to rough it in the Iraqi desert. The image of spoiled girls knee-deep in sand and denied their luxuries pushed my laughter into high gear, and soon I was shaking in Brian’s arms as I imagined the way they would respond to being told what to do or how to do it. Brian looked down at me with concern as my laughter morphed into tears, and then pulled me close and held me tightly as the pain leaked from my eyes. “You’re okay, Ava,” he whispered. “You’re going to be okay.” “You don’t know that,” I wept. “You really have no idea what Dominic is capable of. He’s evil, Brian. He’s really, truly evil.” Brian reached down and placed his fingers under my chin so he could tip my face up. With his thumb, he wiped the tears from my cheek and then bent down and lightly kissed the tip of

my nose. “I promise that I will not let him ever hurt you,” he vowed in a solemn voice. “No one will ever hurt you again, Ava.” “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep,” I fiercely whispered. “I don’t ever make promises I can’t keep,” was his equally fierce reply. ***** I stared up at him as I considered his promise. No one had ever promised anything like that, and I was torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to ensure that I wouldn’t be disappointed when he ultimately broke his promise. Despite his willingness to give me all the space I needed and to also be there when the space turned into a dangerous situation, I still didn’t fully trust him. If I was honest, I didn’t trust anyone; not even myself. I wanted to believe Brian when he said he’d keep me safe. I wanted to believe that he’d figure out a way to keep

Dominic at bay. But most of all I wanted to believe that what we felt right here and now was real, and that I wasn’t the only one who felt it. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he continued to stroke my cheek with his fingertips. “I can’t look away.” I closed my eyes and sighed as he spoke. I wanted to believe him, but good sense told me that it wasn’t possible for him to be that invested this quickly. I shook my head to clear out the negative thoughts as I felt Brian slipping his fingers into my hair and gently comb through my thick tresses as he bent forward to lightly kiss my forehead. There was something so soft and simple in his actions, and I melted a little as he slipped his hand around the back of my head and pulled me up toward him so that he could brush his lips across mine. He lightly flicked his tongue against my lower lip as he wrapped his other arm around my waist and pulled me tightly against his broad chest. “I can’t…” I whispered.

“Can’t what?” he breathed into my lips as his fingers played with the loose strands of hair framing my face. “I can’t do this, Brian,” I almost moaned as he bent his head and left a trail of kisses across my neck before heading farther south. “Yes, you can, Ava,” he encouraged as he flicked the tops of my breasts with his tongue before slipping a hand under my Tshirt and running it up the side of my body. I shivered as I felt his fingers dipping into my bra and pinching my nipples into erect points that radiated electrical impulses straight to my clit. With one hand he reached around and unhooked my bra, and I moaned softly as he quickly pulled both it and my T-shirt up over my head before bending forward to capture one nipple between his lips. There was nothing hurried about the way he focused on licking and sucking first one nipple and then the other, and I tried to relax and enjoy the sensual collision of his desire and my need. I reached down and pulled up on the hem of his T-

shirt, and he quickly pulled it off, exposing his broad, hairless chest, and I leaned forward to taste his skin. It was smooth and salty and I heard a low groan escape his lips as I left a reciprocal path of fire from one shoulder to the other. Brian grasped a fistful of my hair and pulled down so that I was forced to look up into his deep blue eyes before he crushed his lips against mine as we tried to release our desire into each other’s mouths. Our tongues probed between each other’s lips as they touched and tangled in a passionate dance that only served to heighten our need. I moaned as I forced my tongue between his lips, and I grabbed one of his hands and tried to force it between my legs. He chuckled into my lips as he pulled his hand back and continued stroking my breasts. “Why not?” I asked in a raspy voice, full of desire. “Because I don’t think you want it enough,” he whispered into my chest before he returned to sucking one of my engorged nipples. “What in the hell does that mean?” I moaned. “How much

more do I have to want it?” “A whole lot more,” he replied quietly. “I want you to beg for what you want. I want it to be the only thing you can think of; the only thing your mind can focus on.” “How do you know it isn’t already?” I asked in desperate voice. “Because you’re still talking to me,” he smiled as he returned to the task of torturing my breasts. I groaned as he sucked harder, and then let out a small scream as he lightly bit down on the skin surrounding my swollen nipple. It hurt, and yet the pain coursed through my body in waves of pleasure that I’d never felt before. I felt weak, so when Brian stood up and scooped me off of the couch and carried me to the bed, I was powerless to resist. He laid me gently on the mattress and set about removing the rest of my clothing before he sat back and let his eyes wander over my exposed body. He’d heightened my desire to such a level that I didn’t feel any shame or embarrassment as he

sat staring at me before reaching out and touching my skin. He ran his fingers lightly down my body from my head to my toes and then back up again. The featherlike touch sent shivers up my spine, causing me to raise my hips to try and direct his fingers to touch the aching place between my thighs. What I wanted most was to feel him sink into the wet, velvety folds and stroke my inner walls with his strong, thick cock, but he resisted all of my attempts to find relief. Instead, he bent over me and lightly kissed my lips before he began to trail his tongue across the tops of my shoulders. It was agonizing the way he teased and then stopped to watch my face, and although I cried and begged him to take me, he made it clear that the rhythm and timing of his slow descent was his and his alone. He had lost himself in the pleasure of exploring my body and I was helpless to stop him. The stroking fingers, the light caress of his lips, the pain followed by pleasure all combined to drive me to the outer edges of my own desire, and by the time he’d descended to the cleft between my legs, I’d

ceased to notice exactly where he was giving me pleasure, and when he slipped his fingers between my engorged lower lips and splayed them open so that he could dip his tongue into my wetness, I thought I would lose consciousness. “Oh God,” I groaned as my hips bucked upward of their own volition. “Oh God! Oh God, yes!” Brian moved his hands to the sides of my hips so that he could hold me down against the mattress, but his mouth stayed glued to the mound between my legs and his tongue never ceased its firm probing of the folds that were now so wet and engorged that I cried out for relief. He ran his tongue from top to bottom, stopping only to tease my swollen clit with firm, sweeping strokes before moving lower and probing the tight opening that was now dripping moisture onto the bed. There was no stopping him, so I buried my fingers in his hair and begged him not to stop as I drove my hips upward to meet his mouth. Soon he let go of one of my hips, and knitting three fingers of his right hand together, he began to work the knobby knot

into my slick wet opening. I could feel his thick fingers pushing up inside me as he continued to bathe my clit with his tongue, and the sensation forced moan after moan from my lips. I heard myself saying things I’d never said to anyone before; begging and bargaining as I arched my back and thrust my hips up to meet his fingers, but he would withdraw and continue to keep me hanging on the edge of orgasm. “Brian! Brian! Please!” I pleaded in a voice hoarse from what felt like hours of begging. “I need to cum! I need it! I need it!” “You need it, do you?” he asked with a smile as he lifted his head and looked up at me. I was wild-eyed and desperate as I nodded frantically, my hips pulsing against his hand, my fingers still buried in his hair, and as he watched me desperately trying to satisfy the overwhelming need he’d created, he smiled. “I can see that you want it, but do you really need it?” His question pushed me over the edge, and I burst into frustrated tears as I cried, “Yes! Yes! Yes! I need it!” and as he

watched me crying and begging for what I needed, Brian pressed down on my clit with the thumb of the hand he had nearly buried in my pussy, and I rocked against it. I didn’t even notice that he’d used his free hand to undo his jeans and pull out his completely swollen cock until he had pulled his fingers from me and positioned his shaft between my legs as he began pressing the tip into my opening. I was so wet that it didn’t take much for him to slide inside, and when I felt his cock filling me, I wrapped my arms tightly around him and arched my back to push my hips against his as I tried to drive him deeper. Brian reached underneath me and grabbed my ass as he slowly pulled his cock back so that only the tip was still inside me before he plunged back in, filling me with his rigid shaft. He did this a few times before he began to stroke my G-spot with the tip of his cock. I could feel him pulling back just enough to be able to quickly push back in over and over, making me moan and beg him for release. He smiled as he bent down and kissed

my lips softly before thrusting up into me again. My arousal was so intense that I couldn’t catch my breath, and I gripped Brian’s upper arms as I tried to force him deeper and deeper. He smiled as he reached up and brushed stray tendrils of hair from my face before he covered my cheeks in soft kisses. I couldn’t stand the agony of waiting, and I heard myself begging him over and over to take me; to make me cum. For a moment, he stopped and looked deep into my eyes and waited for me to reach the edge with him. He watched me as I writhed beneath him, looking for relief in the pressure I felt as our bodies moved together. Brian slipped a hand between us, and as he began to increase the tempo of his thrusts, he also strummed out a beat on my engorged clit that dragged a low moan from my lips. I felt myself falling over the edge of orgasm only seconds before he groaned as he began to pulse deep inside me and fill me with his warm, thick cum. He collapsed on top of me, pressing his lips to mine as I bore the full weight of his body. It felt safe and warm,

and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him against me as we lay in silence. ***** Before long, Brian rolled to one side and pulled me against him wrapping one arm across my body. He was warm and strong, and as I lay pressed against his chest, I could hear his heart beating steadily. There was something comforting and familiar about him, and as I lay in his arms, I drowsily drifted toward sleep. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard the ding of my phone letting me know that an email had been deposited in my inbox. I rolled over and peeked at the lighted screen to see that the message was a reminder that I was supposed to be at a meeting of the Campus Peace Activists the next morning. I was excited about the meeting because I’d been elected president the week before, after a long and contentious campaign. I wanted to share my excitement, so I rolled back over and looked up at Brian, who looked like he was napping.

“What’s going on?” he asked without opening his eyes. “I’ve got a meeting I need to be at in the morning,” I replied. “Not another fraternity-related event, I hope,” he smiled, still not opening his eyes. “No, this is an early morning meeting and those don’t get going until well after sundown,” I deadpanned, then said, “I need to go to my CPA meeting across campus.” “I did not know you were an accountant,” he said. “I’m not, silly! It’s the Campus Peace Activist group, I’m the president and I need to be there,” I replied. “Campus Peace Activists?” he repeated as he opened one eye and looked at me. “Yes, we protest unjust wars, lobby our representatives, and basically oppose all acts of unprovoked violence against citizens of the world.” I proudly recited the mission statement that we’d spent weeks hammering out. We had come together with a

common purpose, but it had taken a long time for us to develop a common vision for the organization, and the mission statement was representative of our willingness to work together toward a common goal. “You have got to be kidding me,” Brian blurted as he pushed himself into a sitting position and gave me a hard stare. “I’m not,” I said. “Why? Do you have a problem with it?” “A problem with it?” he repeated, before a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Do I have a problem with it? Oh good one, lady!” “Brian, what’s wrong?” “Not a thing,” he replied in a sullen tone as he climbed out of bed and turned to look at me. “There is absolutely nothing wrong.” “Brian!” I protested. “Why are you being so difficult?” “I don’t believe I’m the one who is so damn difficult, Ava,” he was obviously angry with me, but I had no idea why.

“Brian, please tell me what’s going on,” I begged. “Why are you so upset?” He grabbed his clothing off of the floor and began pulling on his pants as he watched me in his peripheral vision. He said nothing, but I could tell that he was holding something back just by the jerky way he pulled on his shirt and then stood staring at me through narrowed eyes. After a long silence, he took a deep breath and said, “Look, I’m going to sleep over on the couch, so unless you need me to do something to physically protect you from harm, I’d prefer that you leave me the hell alone. Got it?” I was angry and confused by his sudden shift in tone, and I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes as I nodded and then watched him walk across the room toward the sofa. I stifled the urge to offer him a blanket. If he was going to be an ass to me, then he could figure out how to stay warm all by his own big self.

PROTECTOR #4

I tossed and turned all night. Around 3:00 am, I finally fell into a fitful sleep that was interrupted by Brian’s restlessness. When I woke up the next morning I felt worse than I had the morning before. I sat up slowly and looked over to see Brian fast asleep on the couch across the room, and I immediately felt the previous night’s irritation return. He’d shut me out without saying anything or even trying to have a conversation, and now he was sleeping like a baby. I shook my head in disgust and went to the bathroom to get ready for my meeting. In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over my body as I tried to clear my mind of the way that Brian had reacted to learning about my involvement in the anti-war group. I couldn’t see how he could be angry with a group whose sole aim was to keep peace and prevent war, and it pissed me off that he’d just shut down and stopped talking. It made no sense to me

whatsoever. I rinsed my hair and turned my face up toward the warm flow one more time before twisting the knobs to shut it off. I stepped out, grabbed the fluffy towel off of the counter, and began drying myself off as I thought about how to start the conversation with Brian. We were going to have to talk about this in some way or another, or else we weren’t going to be able to find a way to continue the physical part of our relationship, and I had already grown to like it - a lot. I towel-dried my wet hair as I looked in the mirror, and noticed that there were dark circles under my eyes. The stress and lack of sleep were getting to me, and Friday night’s partying hadn’t helped matters. Ah well, that’s what concealer is for, I thought to myself as I reached into my cosmetic bag and pulled out the tube. As I began to dab it on the dark spots, I was transported back to another morning when I had had to do the same thing, but for very different reasons. The night before, Dominic had returned home angry with me about some imagined infraction of his rules

and had spent the evening moping silently in his man cave before emerging to teach me a brutal lesson about obedience. I cringed as I recalled how the concealer hadn’t been able to do its job the next day, but then, it hadn’t been designed to hide the handiwork of a man who was determined to leave his mark on my face. As I dusted my cheeks with a peachy blush and tried to brighten up my pale skin, I thought about how I was certain that Brian wasn’t at all like Dominic. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to roll over and let another man dictate what I could or couldn’t do with my life; even if it meant that Brian was going to be irritated enough to continue sleeping on the couch. Two coats of mascara and a swipe of a berry-colored lip gloss later, I considered myself in the mirror and decided I looked good enough to lead the meeting. I pulled my long, thick hair back into a low ponytail and smoothed my bangs before wrapping the towel tightly around myself and walking into the room to grab my clothes. When I emerged from the bathroom,

Brian quickly looked away as I headed to my closet. “It’s okay to look, you, know,” I said in a light tone. “You’ve seen it all anyway.” “Yeah, got it,” he replied as he tried to hide the smile that flitted across his lips. “Just trying to give you some privacy.” “Well, it’s hard in a space this small, but I appreciate it,” I said as I grabbed my clothes. “It’s kind of chilly out there this morning,” Brian offered as he thumbed through my Psych textbook. “You might want to dress appropriately.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back as I felt myself getting defensive. “Are you implying that I don’t usually dress appropriately?” “Step down, spitfire,” he said as he raised a hand in defense. “I’m just saying that you might want to dress for rain, that’s all. I’m not judging you.” I stood there fuming as I looked at him. How dare he tell me

what’s appropriate and what isn’t! I was sick of his constant back and forth, one minute approving and the next disapproving. I was tired of having to walk on eggshells as we tried to navigate the path between security guard and boyfriend. Suddenly, a flood of questions came rushing into my brain. Does he see me as his girlfriend? Do I think of him as my boyfriend? Are we a couple? I quickly discounted my answers by telling myself that it was insane to think that he could be someone I viewed as a boyfriend after less than a week. It’s Stockholm Syndrome, only without the kidnapping and violence. I chuckled as this thought crossed my mind. “What are you laughing about?” Brian asked in an irritated voice. “Is there something funny I don’t know about?” “Just thinking about my Psych homework,” I replied. “No need to get all irritated with me.” “Irritated? Who’s irritated?” he said in a voice that was even more irritated than before.

“Obviously you are, sailor,” I said nonchalantly. “I’m not irritated!” he yelled as he shot up off the couch. “Evidence would prove otherwise,” I said as I held my ground. “What the hell is wrong with you, Ava?” he shouted. “Why do you push me like this?” “How exactly am I doing anything, Brian?” I said. My voice was calm, but inside I was trembling like a leaf. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but his anger was palpable. “You are so…so…so…” he stuttered before blurting out, “Infuriating!” “Oh, I’m infuriating? Me?” I cried. “That’s a good one! You’re the one who gets all pissy and then shuts down and refuses to talk about anything! I didn’t do anything to you, and you just get mad and stop talking! What’s that all about, huh?” Brian stood glaring at me with his fists clenched at his sides for what felt like hours before he lowered his eyes and loosened

his hands. He stared at the floor in front of my feet for another long while before taking a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry,” he began. “I just feel…frustrated.” “About what?” I asked quietly. “About the fact that I want to protect you, but I feel like you won’t let me do the things I need to do to ensure that you’re safe, and then you go and…” he trailed off. “I go and do what?” I asked. “You participate in that hateful group that does such awful things to members of the military. How could you?” he asked as he looked up. The hurt and pain in his eyes took my breath away. “What hateful things?” I was confused by his accusation. “Those anti-war groups protest at military funerals and say hateful things about people who’ve given their lives for their country,” he explained. “How could you participate in that kind of thing?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I protested. “We don’t do those kinds of things!” “I’ve seen the groups that do,” he said quietly. “They were at my best friend’s funeral when I accompanied his body back to the States. They had signs and literature that they were passing out about their anti-war activities.” “Brian, we’ve never once protested at a funeral,” I assured him. “That would be rude and disrespectful of the people who’ve sacrificed their lives for our right to oppose war.” “Then what do you do?” he asked. “What’s the purpose of an anti-war group that doesn’t protest?” “We do protest,” I said. “We protest against unjust wars that use our military servicepeople as cannon fodder. We protest against the government’s lack of concern for the servicepeople who’ve returned home after the wars, and we protest against the use of violence to ensure peace! It’s all wrong!” “It’s not wrong,” he muttered.

“Yes! It is horribly wrong to send young men and women out to fight a war that is simply about protecting oil and resources!” I yelled. “How can you say it’s not?” “Because I fought the war! I fought for freedom and democracy and to get rid of a dictator that had brutally oppressed his people for decades!” Brian shouted back. “I was there, little girl. I saw what was going on and fought to bring peace to those people.” “Little girl? Little girl?” I was pissed. “Don’t you dare dismiss me simply because I haven’t been over to Iraq and fought in the war. That’s the most asinine argument I’ve ever heard!” “Oh, really?” Brian crossed the room and stood not more than a foot from me as he continued. “Then please explain to me why I went over there and spent years on the ground helping secure the territory. Please explain why I spent so much time away from my friends and family in order to patrol the cities and prevent violence. Please explain why I watched civilians get

blown up by their own countrymen who were trying to kill me and my team! Please explain, Ava, why…” Brian stopped as a look of anguish tore across his face. “Brian…” I began. “No! Please explain why I watched my best friend die,” he choked on the words and then looked into my eyes and said, “Tell me why, Ava. Tell me why anything I did mattered. Tell me why the sacrifices we all made were required. Tell me, Ava, would you please?” I had no answer for him. I had been stunned into silence by his tirade against my involvement with what I had seen as an honest attempt to stop war from happening. I hadn’t really thought about it from the soldiers’ point of view other than to not want any of them to be hurt or killed in the fighting of wars that weren’t of their making. “Look, I have no answers,” I said as I reached out and gently touched his arm. Brian shrunk from my touch, but I continued. “All I wanted to do was to stop the needless fighting.

I didn’t want people dying - not any people! I thought that if I got involved in the group we could petition our representatives and persuade others to sign the petition requesting that the U.S not get involved in wars that aren’t about freedom or democracy.” Brian continued staring at my feet as I spoke. “I have never in my life ever done anything as rude or disrespectful as to protest at a soldier’s funeral, and I never would. I just don’t want people to die, Brian. That’s all. I just don’t want you or anyone you know to die in combat!” I stood in front of him, out of breath and emotionally on edge from trying to explain myself. Brian continued staring silently at the floor before he raised his head and looked into my eyes. My heart cracked as I felt the waves of unspoken pain flowing between us. I didn’t want to break the silence, so I held his gaze as he reached out and ran a finger down my cheek before pushing the hair out of my eyes. “Ava,” he whispered. “Go get dressed, you’re going to be

late to your meeting.” ***** As we walked to the quad and headed for the meeting, I thought about what we’d said to one another and I turned the discussion over and over as I thought about Brian’s misinformed view of the anti-war movement and how much pain it had obviously cost him. I was outraged that anyone claiming to be anti-war would ever dream of being anti-military member, but then I remembered hearing about some Midwestern church group who was using the funerals to promote their hate-filled, anti-gay message. I turned and looked for Brian, but he was busy trying to blend in with the Sunday student crowd on the quad. He obviously didn’t want to talk about this with me, so I began formulating a plan. I’d have to run it by the group members, but I thought that once I explained the reasoning behind it, they would definitely agree with me and we could work to end the hateful practice of protesting military funerals.

Brian stayed outside the room while we discussed ways to take a stand against the groups that were using the funerals to promote their own hateful beliefs. We sketched out a plan on the whiteboard and then assigned group members to begin calling and emailing those we’d identified as allies. We might be a small group, I thought, but we’re mighty in our determination to do the right thing. After the meeting, I walked outside and saw Brian sitting on a chair in the lounge area. He was obviously on high alert as he scanned the area, searching for any signs of Dominic. I smiled and waved at him to let him know I was ready to leave. I saw him furrow his brow as he looked past me, but when I spun around to see what had caused it, I saw nothing. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing, I just thought—” he stopped and started intently at the other side of the student lounge, then shook his head and said, “Nothing. It’s nothing.” “Okay, if you’re sure!” I chirped. “Do you want to go get

some lunch and hear about the plan we came up with?” “Do I have a choice?” he grinned. “Of course you don’t,” I grinned back. Two could play this little game. “Touché!” Brian burst out laughing as we walked to over to Charlie Chang’s for a lunch of bibimbap. ***** “So, tell me about this plan of yours,” Brian said to me with a mouth full of kimchi. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!” I laughed as I took a sip of my iced tea before popping a piece of the spicy cabbage in my mouth. Brian laughed at my admonition as the server put two steaming bowls down on the table and asked if there was anything else we needed. I smiled and shook my head. “But seriously, tell me what you’ve got up your sleeve, Ava,” he said as he stirred a huge squirt of hot sauce into his lunch.

“When you said that you associated the anti-war groups with disrespect and meanness, I started thinking about how a small number of protesters are defining the movement in negative terms,” I said as I pulled apart my chopsticks and balanced them carefully in my right hand. Brian watched and shook his head as he pointedly began eating with his fork. “So, I suggested that we address the issue of those people who protest at funerals instead of spending so much time writing letters protesting a war that is already happening.” “How do you think you’re going to affect the protestors?” he asked. “We don’t think we’re going to affect them, per se,” I replied. “They’re using their protests to accomplish something entirely unrelated to the peace movement. They’re using servicepeople as a mechanism to promote their hatred of people who they feel are eroding moral values. It’s somewhat ironic that they’re religious people, because they seem to have missed the overall point of their own religion.”

“How so?” Brian asked. “They’re standing up for what they feel is right and they’re protesting against what they feel is wrong, aren’t they?” “Yes, but they miss the whole point, love thy neighbor and all, that is what matters, right?” I looked up at him as I explained my take on the situation. I wasn’t sure he was buying it. “Okay, I guess I can see your point, but I don’t understand what it is you think you’re going to do about it,” he replied as he brought another forkful of the delicious rice and vegetable combination to his mouth. “We don’t think that we can change the people who are protesting, but we do think that we can show those who are not part of the group how damaging the practice is,” I said as I carefully measured my next words. “We think that if we can show how much pain and suffering these groups cause, then we can get average, everyday folks to step in and help stop the practice.” “And how do you propose to accomplish this?” he asked.

“Well…” I took a deep breath and pushed forward. “We thought we could use your story to illustrate the way in which the protestors caused so much pain during the funeral of your friend. We’ve got a couple of members who are journalism majors and they would write articles for the newspaper and a couple of other internet outlets that they write for, and then we thought that we could write letters to the university administration asking them to support our attempts to get the city to stop allowing these folks to protest within a certain distance. We also thought that we could do what other cities have done and ask members of various clubs to come form a human wall around the funerals so that the friends and family members wouldn’t have to even see the protestors.” Brian had stopped eating and was staring at me with steely eyes. I casually continued eating as I waited to hear his response to my plan. “Absolutely not,” he said quietly. “You will not use my story and you will not bring me into this mess.”

“But Brian,” I countered. “We could do so much good!” “By spewing my pain and suffering out into the world?” he demanded. “You want to use me to make some silly college political statement?” “No! That’s not what we’re doing at all!” I cried. “We want to stop these people from causing other people as much pain as they’ve caused you!” “By making me the face of all of the crap that’s going to come out about this?” He was angry and hurt, but I couldn’t understand why. “But Brian, this is a good idea! We want to stop the protests!” I said as I felt myself becoming more emotional. Couldn’t he see that we wanted to help? “You rich kids just don’t get it, do you?” His face grew red as he struggled to keep his voice down and not call attention to our heated argument. “You think that the world is full of likeminded people who have the same opinons you have and that if

you just tell people to stop doing whatever you think is unfair, they will.” “Now that’s unfair,” I lowered my voice to try and calm him down, but I felt myself getting mad at his judgmental attitude. “We’re not trying to tell anyone how to live their lives, we’re just trying to help you!” “Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I don’t want your help?” Brian asked as he leveled his gaze. “Did you ever ask me what I wanted? No, you did not. That’s because you rich college kids think you know everything that’s best for everyone. You’re so arrogant and privileged that you can’t look beyond your own lives and see that other people don’t live the way you do.” “What does that have to do with anything?” I angrily asked. “It has to do with the fact that those people who are protesting have every right to protest, and that if it hurts my poor little feelings, then I need to get over it, okay?” he said in a tone that could only be described as petulant.

“What in the hell is going on with you?” I was astounded at the rapid shift in our conversation and could not understand why Brian was so angry at me for wanting to spare other service members the pain he’d experienced at his best friend’s funeral. “Just leave it alone,” he said as he exited the booth and headed for the door. “I’ll be outside waiting when you’re done.” I made no move to stop him as he stalked toward the door and shoved it open with a force that loudly rung the bells looped over the handle. I think if he could have slammed the door behind him, he would have done it. ***** I finished my lunch, paid the bill, and then walked outside. Brian was leaning against the front of the restaurant looking at his phone and furiously typing out something on the screen. As soon as he saw me, he disconnected and shoved the phone in his pocket. “Oh, please don’t let me interrupt,” I said in a dry tone. I

was mad at him for refusing to even try to see my point of view and for accusing me of being a spoiled rich girl simply because he didn’t agree with me. “You didn’t,” he said. “Back to the dorm?” “Yes, please,” I replied and began walking. Brian followed about 10 steps behind, and since I was mad, I set a fast pace. The whole walk back I silently cursed him for being so stubborn and pigheaded, and by the time we reached the room, I was ready to explode. Instead, I entered the room, leaving the door open, grabbed my Psych book, and flopped down on the bed with the book open to a random page as I continued to fume. Brian entered the room, quietly shut the door and then sat on the couch flipping through his phone in silence. “What are you studying?” he asked after a few minutes. “None of your damn business!” I snapped. “Really? Is that a lesson in psychology?” he asked with a serious expression. “I had no idea that there was a chapter on

none of your damn business. What does it say?” “It says that it’s none of your damn business!” I shouted. “Now shut up and let me study!” “Oh now, that’s just obstinance,” he observed. “What are you even talking about?” “I’m sure that being educated and all, you know that the root of obstinance is not in achieving some aim in reality, but in establishing a subjective feeling of superiority, right?” he said casually as he continued poking at the screen of his phone. “Ha ha. Very funny,” I replied, not at all amused. “Yes, you’re smart. You know things. Now know this: I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” “Okay, your call,” he said with a shrug. “I was just trying to be helpful.” I sat on my bed trying hard to contain the rage that was building inside me, but watching him mess with his phone only made it worse, and after a few minutes, I blew.

“If you really want to be helpful, then talk to me, darn it!” I shouted. “Don’t just criticize me and then walk away!” “What was I supposed to do, Ava?” he asked. “Your father hired me to protect you, so it’s not my place to engage in a political struggle with you about something you know nothing about.” “Oh, I see. You can’t engage in a conversation about something that you view as political, but you can have sex with me? That’s okay?” I grilled him, getting angrier by the minute. “Yes, actually, that is okay, because having sex with you doesn’t cause me the kind of headache that having a political discussion with you does!” He raised his voice to match mine. “Oh, really? Talking with me about something serious gives you a headache?” I hollered as I hopped up off of the bed and crossed the room so that I was standing over him. “Actually, it does!” he yelled back as he pushed himself up off the couch and stood glaring back at me.

“Then why do you keep engaging in conversations with me?” I shouted back. I was trying to control my anger as well as the fact that this argument had aroused me in a way I didn’t know was possible. Brian’s strong will made him even more attractive, and the fact that he stood up to me without using force or violence aroused me. “Because…because…” he stuttered angrily as he held my gaze. “Because what?” I demanded as I closed the gap between us and stood only inches from him, looking up into his eyes. “C’mon, spit it out, sailor!” “Because I can’t stop!” he admitted as he roughly grabbed my waist and pulled me to him. “I can’t stop wanting you, Ava! You drive me crazy with your idealistic views and your academic approach to things, but that makes me want you even more!” He bent down and kissed me hard as he crushed my body against his. In an instant, my arms were around his neck, and I

was returning the kiss with a fierceness I had never felt before. “But you’re so stubborn,” I whispered into his lips as the savage kiss continued. His hands roamed my body, pushing my shirt up before yanking it off to give him access to my bare skin. He quickly pulled the tiny skirt I was wearing down to my knees, letting it pool around my feet, and in seconds, I was nearly naked. “It takes one to know one, you know?” he growled as he moved his lips to the base of my neck and not-so-gently nipped at the soft skin. “Hey!” I cried before reaching down and grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up, and exposing his chest so that I could administer a few bites of my own. He cried out as my teeth sank into his smooth flesh, and he quickly grabbed a fistful of my long hair and pulled back, leaving me panting as I looked up at him with a dangerous gleam in my eyes. “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” he grinned as he held tightly to the makeshift leash he’d created, then firmly pulled my head

back, leaned down, and forced my lips apart with his tongue. I melted into his hungry kiss as I felt him firmly pulling at the flimsy fabric covering my breasts. “Wait,” I cried into his mouth, but before I could reach around and unhook my bra, Brian had let go of my hair and reached into his pocket, pulled out a switchblade, which he quickly flicked open and used to slice through the lace. “Oh, yes,” he breathed as he made quick work of the shoulder straps and watched it fall to the floor. “So much better.” He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me to him as his fingers found one of my nipples and began tugging and pinching as he watched my face. I struggled for a moment, but the jolt of electricity that ran from my nipple to my clit made me forget what I was struggling against. I grabbed the sides of his face and tried to pull him back to my lips, but he had other plans, and he smiled as he dipped his head and captured my other nipple between his lips and began sucking and licking. A low moan escaped from my lips as Brian bit down on the

sensitive bud, and I gripped the back of his head and pulled him tightly to my breast. I could feel his fingers snaking down my body and slipping between my thighs, brushing the soaked fabric that barely covered my very wet pussy. “Mmmmmm,” he hummed as he sucked harder while caressing the hot, wet valley between my legs until I began pushing back as I urged him to go further. “Please? Please? Please?” I begged as he increased the pressure of his strokes while licking and biting my nipple. The combined sensations of pleasure and pain were making me wetter and wetter as he teased me, and he knew this. I looked down and gasped as he pinched one nipple painfully while he gently bathed the other with the flat side of his tongue. I could feel his hand between my legs, teasing as he slowly made his way past the fabric barrier. An instant later, I felt him pull his hand back and loop his fingers over the edge of my panties as he tugged them down to my ankles. He lifted his mouth from my breast and ordered,

“Step out of them,” before returning his attention to the swollen tips. I stepped out of my panties and felt him tap his hand between my thighs as a signal for me to spread them. And I did. Brian’s hand lightly brushing up the insides of my thighs nearly made me pass out. It was too much; the pain, the soft pleasure, the want, the need. Unable to form any words, I moaned louder and willed his hand to move higher as I buried my fingers in his hair and held him at my breast. He took his time as he moved upward, teasing and torturing me with his touch; sliding his fingers between the silky folds of my nether lips, and slowly stroking a path from front to back. I whimpered as I spread my legs wider and thrust my hips forward as I tried to push his fingers up inside my needy pussy. Brian pulled back from my breast, smiled, and then sank to his knees in front of me. Keeping one hand on my hip, he pushed me backwards until my knees hit the edge of the couch, and then he shoved me just hard enough to force me to sit. In seconds,

he’d pushed me back and grabbed my ankles so that he could drape my legs over his shoulders. “Brian!” I cried as I felt him trace a path of fiery wetness down my belly with his tongue. “What?” He looked up at me questioningly. The desire in his eyes mirrored my own, so I shook my head and let it go. He nodded, “Uh huh,” and then returned to the path he was forging on my body. I had never been so heightened in my awareness of my own body, but somehow, he managed to draw out every sensation; every desire, as he kissed and stroked and caressed every inch of my naked skin with his tongue, his lips, and his hands. When he had licked his way to the wet heat between my legs, he stopped for a moment and looked up at me as he gently teased me with his fingers. I whimpered again as I nodded. I wanted to beg, but I knew better than to open my mouth and ask. Seconds later, he grabbed each of my thighs with his large hands and used his thumbs to splay my pussy lips wide open.

The rush of cool air made me cry out just before Brian buried his face in the wetness. The moan that escaped my lips was an anguished cry as his tongue began teasing my exposed clit. He dragged his tongue over it lightly as he slid his thumbs up and down, stopping to coat his fingers in my wetness before sliding back up to spread me open again. The slow rhythm of his tongue and fingers soon took over and pushed my brain to the edge of pleasure as he licked and sucked and teased me into a frenzy. Since my legs were draped over his shoulders. I couldn’t push enough to lift my hips, but my hands were free and so I reached down, grabbed the back of his head, and pushed him down hard as I tried to find a way to push his tongue or his fingers inside me. “I need it! I need it! Oh God, I need it!” I pleaded as I pushed him down harder. “Brian, fuck me! Fuck me! I can’t take any more! Please!” Seconds later, he slid his long, thick fingers deep inside my aching pussy as his tongue continued to work its magic on my

clit. Soon, I was bucking and writhing beneath him as he drove me to the edge of an orgasm that threatened to consume me. The flicking tongue, the knobby fingers, the long hard strokes followed by short thrusts as he licked and sucked and sucked and licked all pushed me over the edge, and I screamed as I came. “Brian! Brian! Brian!” I chanted as I flew off the edge of the cliff and fell into the orgasm below. He kept thrusting into me as I came, and while he lightened the pressure of his tongue, he didn’t stop licking my clit. Soon, we were building toward a second orgasm, and when we found it, he released me into the air and sat back to watch me fly. He gently continued sliding his fingers in and out as I returned to consciousness, and when I looked up at him with wild eyes, he smiled and cupped my cheek. “Welcome back, beautiful,” he whispered. “Have a good trip, did you?” I gave him a dazed nod and then promptly fell fast asleep.

***** The next morning, I woke to a loud pounding on my door. At first I thought it was a fire alarm, and sat up frantically trying to think about what I needed to grab before running down the exit stairway. “It’s okay, Ava,” Brian called from the couch. “I’ll take care of it.” I nodded and lay back down as he went to the door and looked out the peephole to see who it was. He frowned as he stood at the door, then stepped back and put one hand inside his hoodie. “What is it?” I whispered as I sat up and grabbed my phone from the beside table, preparing to call security. “Quiet!” he ordered as he again looked through the peephole and frowned. He reached out and slowly turned the doorknob, then cracked the door open to get a better view of the hallway. When he saw nothing there, he opened the door a little

wider and stuck his head out. “Brian, what is it?” I asked in a stage whisper. “It’s nothing,” he replied as he stepped into the hall and looked up and down for signs of an intruder. When he found nothing, he shrugged and stepped back in the room. As he did, I saw something on the floor flutter under his feet. “Hey, there’s something on the ground,” I called. “What the hell?” he said as he bent and picked up a large white envelope that had my name typed on the front, but no address. After he’d shut and locked the door, then doublechecked to make sure it was secure, Brian brought the envelope to me and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to open that, you know?” “Yes, I do,” I replied. “We can call the police and hand it over to them and let them work on this,” he reminded me. “No, we can’t,” I reminded him. “If we do that, then they’ll

leak the details to the press, and my father will be really pissed about the scandal and you’ll be fired.” “Would that be so bad?” he asked. “You have no idea what my father is capable of,” I replied. “He would shift the blame to you and ruin your career.” “What career?” Brian laughed. “I’m a glorified security guard, it’s not like I’ve got a future in high level espionage or something.” “Just don’t,” I said quietly. Brian stopped laughing and watched as I slid my finger under the flap and opened the envelope. I shook as I reached in and grasped the edge of the paper inside, and as tears welled up in my eyes, Brian reached over and took the envelope out of my hands. “Here, let me do that,” he offered. He quickly pulled out the sheet inside and read it. I couldn’t see what it said, but I could see that the entire thing was written in red ink that had bled through the page. The writer had pressed hard as they’d

composed their message, and there were places on the paper that looked like they’d almost been torn. In those spots the ink had formed an ominously crimson pool. I shivered as I watched Brian read the note again. “What does it say?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I asked again. “What does it say?” Brian shook his head and started to fold the note and put it back in the envelope. “Brian, what does the note say?” I was starting to feel panicked. I reached out and grabbed the note from his hand and read it. My Dearest Ava, For the longest time I loved you and tried to provide the best possible life for you – for us. I gave you everything a woman could possibly want, and I showered you with love and affection that many women would die for, but you rejected all of

that for some unknown reason. I don’t know what I did to drive you away aside from loving you with every fiber of my being. Now I see that you have quickly replaced me with some substandard replica of what you think a man is. Does he love you the way I loved you? Does he cherish you and treat you like the jewel you are? Does he give you the life that I gave you? No, how could he? He is an imposter. Someone who does not know the demands of the kind of world we inhabit. He is a foreigner. An outsider. He can never give you the things that I could give you, and he will never win the approval of your demanding family. The best he can do is to act as a shield and attempt to protect you from the only man who has ever loved you. Why won’t you come back, Ava, my love? Why can’t you see how much I adore you? How much I worship you? Why can’t you accept that we are meant to be together and that no matter what stands in the way, I will never, ever give up on doing everything in my power to ensure that you are returned to me?

You belong to me, Ava. You are mine. Please stop fighting what I know you know is the right thing. We are meant to be together. We are meant to shape a life that will be full and beautiful together. I want to marry you and raise a family with you. Only with you, Ava. Why are you being so stubborn and refusing to see that we are ordained by God to be together? Come back to me, Ava. Come back and I will fulfill you beyond your wildest dreams. I will give you the moon and the stars. I will move heaven and earth to ensure that you are happy. All the riches of the world will be at your disposal and I will make sure that no one ever disturbs you or makes you unhappy. Only I can do that for you, Ava. You know this to be true. I’m the one who loves you more than anyone else. Please come back to me, Ava. I need you. I need you to be with me.

If you can’t come back to me, I promise that I will come and find you, Ava. I will come for you and rescue you from the clutches of those who would silence you and keep you from me. And I am telling you now that if that Neanderthal has in any way hurt you, I will do more than simply rescue you. If he has hurt you, I will end him. Why won’t you come back to me, Ava? Why are you staying with him? Why don’t you choose me? I am warning you, Ava. If you don’t return to me, I will find you. I will hunt you down and I will reclaim you as my own. And if you won’t come with me and be mine, as you should be, the consequences will be dire. If you refuse to welcome me back into your life, then you will have no life at all, and neither will the loser who thinks you love him. Loving you always, D.

As I read the note, I felt sick. Dominic was obviously delusional, and reading his rambling thoughts on how our “relationship” needed to be rekindled made me simultaneously outraged and disgusted. “Ava, are you okay?” Brian asked as he watched me read the note for a third time. “Fine,” I said absently. “I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine,” he pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I looked up at Brian and threw my hands up in the air. “How do I even counter his inability to live in reality?” I asked helplessly. “Ava, we need to go to the police,” he said quietly. “No! I told you, we can’t do that!” I cried. “But I’m starting to wonder if he’s lost it,” Brian said. “And if he has, then I might not be able to protect you from his

psychotic break. This is about your safety, Ava, not your father’s ego.” “Stop it! I know that!” I yelled. I was panicked because I knew that this note was not a good sign, but I also knew that notifying the police would set off a reaction from my father that might end with Brian being fired and me never seeing him again. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being with him or feeling him touch me ever again. I looked up into his eyes and willed him to understand what it was that I couldn’t say. “Ava, we have to do something,” he said as he reached out and cupped my face. “We can’t sit around and wait for him to make his move. It’s not safe.” I nodded as I folded the note and put it back in the envelope. I had no idea what to do next. How could we protect me from Dominic’s imagination? What would he do to me? What would he do to Brian? The thought of Dominic harming Brian made me ill, but I had no plan for how to protect him. “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “And I’m scared…”

“I know,” Brian said as he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. “We’ll figure something out. Together.” ***** “Ava, we’re going to have to move out of here for a while,” Brian said. “You know that you’re not safe here, don’t you?” I nodded and fought back the rising panic that threatened to swallow me. The thoughts raced through my mind: Why do I have to move? Why can’t Dominic just leave me alone? Why is my life such a mess? Brian held me tight as I fought to get my bearings, and once I’d calmed down, he began making plans to try and shore up my security. I began packing a bag as he sat on the couch and tapped out text after text, arranging for us to move out of the dorm until Dominic could be located, questioned, and, hopefully, locked up. The sound of Brian’s phone ringing broke the silence and he stepped out into the hall to answer it.

I continued sorting out my clothes and trying to decide what would be necessary and what would simply be an unnecessary burden to carry with me. Then I went into the bathroom and began gathering my things. I wanted to leave the room looking like I was still living here so that when the dorm housekeeper came in to collect trash and dust, she wouldn’t notify the RA who was supposed to be keeping watch over us all. The last thing I needed was to have the university involved in this mess since my father sat on the executive advisory board and would most likely turn the place upside down if he found out they’d been harboring a criminal who was after his daughter. I was tired of being the outsider everywhere I went; tired of being seen as either the poor little rich girl or the stuck-up snob. I was neither of those things, and I wanted a chance to solve this problem on my own. Besides, the problem with Dominic was entirely my fault. I knew that for certain, but I couldn’t tell anyone—not even Brian.

“Alright, we’ve got a place to stay and we’ve got a team in place to help us move without being seen,” Brian announced as he reentered the room with a smile on his face. “Uh huh,” I nodded as I tossed a small cosmetics bag into my duffle bag that was already stuffed to the gills. “Ava, we’re just going across town, not to another country,” he joked. “I know, but I want stuff that’s familiar,” I said in a choked voice. I was trying so hard to keep it together that I feared one wrong word and I’d lose it. “I’m teasing you,” he said gently as he crossed he room and put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all going to be okay, Ava. I promise. I’ve got friends who are going to help me flush out Dominic and get him to where the police can track him on their own.” “I just…just…just…” I stammered as I turned and looked up at him, my eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill

down my cheeks. “I know, and it’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s all going to be okay.” I nodded as I turned back to the bed and zipped my bag. I didn’t fully believe that everything was going to be okay, but I was choosing to believe Brian—for now. ***** Once I’d packed up, Brian told me to wait in the room while he carried my bag down to the SUV and checked to make sure the path downstairs was safe. When he returned, he told me to do one more check to make sure I had everything I needed before we headed out. I surveyed the room and felt a little sad to be deserting it, and a little nostalgic since Brian and I had had our hottest sex in there. The little bubble of laughter that escaped from my lips as I thought about this made Brian tip his head and look at me like a confused puppy. That made me laugh harder, and soon he joined

me, and the dark mood that had clouded the day began to lift. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Brian said as he motioned for me to follow him down to the vehicle. As we drove away from the dorm, Brian turned on the radio, and as the sound filled my ears, I started to relax. The past week had been the single most stressful time in my life aside from the week I actually decided to leave Dominic. I thought about that week and shuddered as I remembered how frightened I’d been and how unsure I was of what I was going to do next. “Are you okay?” Brian asked as he turned down the volume. “Yeah, just thinking,” I replied as I watched the scenery flashing past. “What are you thinking about?” he probed. “Just thinking about all that’s happened,” I said. “How messed up it all is.” “It’s going to get better, Ava,” he reassured me. “We’re

going to get Dominic out of the picture and then you can have your life back, and I won’t have to follow you everywhere.” “Yeah, right,” I turned toward him, smiled weakly, and then looked back out the window. “Has he always threatened you this way?” Brian asked. “Pretty much,” I said quietly. “Well, not in the beginning, of course. In the beginning he was all sweetness and light. I fell so hard for that act.” “He’s pretty manipulative,” Brian echoed. “He’s…so seductive,” I whispered. “He sucked me in before I knew what had happened and because I’d never known what it was like to have someone focus on me and me alone, I thought what he was doing was what love should be like. I had no idea.” Brian remained silent as I tried to gather my thoughts and organize them in a way that I could use to make him understand how dangerous Dominic could be. I was more worried about

what would happen to Brian than I was about what would happen to me. Dominic had already beaten me within an inch of my life and proven that he had no desire to actually kill me, but Brian…when it came to Brian, I knew what Dominic was capable of because I’d seen it before. “I’m just worried about you,” I said once I’d regained some clarity. “Don’t worry about me, it’s you that we need to focus on,” he said. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Has he always threatened you like this?” “Yes,” I answered simply. “He always threatened me, but he never followed through on his threats. He might have beaten me to teach me a lesson, but he never came anywhere near killing me.” “Something has changed,” Brian mused. “It’s you,” I replied. “He’s never had anyone who challenged him for my affection the way you do.”

“Do I?” he asked as he looked at the road ahead. “Do you what?” “Do I challenge him for your affection?” Brian asked. “Well, you know what I mean!” I protested. I wasn’t ready to get caught up in a romance with my bodyguard, no matter how much I liked him and how good I felt when I was with him. “I just mean, in his head he sees you as the competition. He’s delusional!” Brian’s mouth formed a thin line as he nodded and made a left turn into the hotel parking lot. He’d driven us a good distance away from the campus in an attempt to move me out of range. Maybe if Dominic couldn’t detect me anywhere on campus, he’d stop this pursuit and I’d be safe. As we pulled up to the front door, I looked at Brian and said, “I’m not kidding, I’m worried about you.” Brian reached out and cupped my cheek in a gesture that was becoming achingly familiar and comforting, and said, “And

I’m worried about you, and only you.” The blood rushed to my cheeks as the hotel bellhop opened my door and cheerfully chirped, “Welcome to the Midway, folks! Can I get your bags?” ***** We checked in without incident and the nice bellhop carried our bags to up to the large suite we’d be occupying for an indefinite period of time. Brian remarked that neither of us had eaten anything all day, so we called down to room service and ordered enough food to feed the Navy, and laughed that we’d be eating leftovers for days. “I’m going to take a shower before the food gets here,” Brian called as he entered the bathroom and turned on the water. “Want some company?” I teased. “Nope, this is strictly business, and I’d appreciate you keeping it that way,” he deadpanned with a towel wrapped around his waist. I gave him an appreciative once-over and

grinned as he said, “And I’d appreciate you keeping your unsavory thoughts to yourself, young lady. This is neither the time nor the place for such lascivious displays of unladylike behavior.” I burst into a fit of giggles as he grinned and ducked into the bathroom. I liked his easy sense of humor and his way of disarming me when I felt panicked or overwhelmed, and his hot body was an unexpected, but welcome, bonus. In no time, Brian emerged from the steamy room shirtless in a pair of tight-fitting jeans as he towel-dried his hair. I feigned swooning and he chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Your turn!” he said as he pointed the way to the bathroom. “I cleaned it up so you wouldn’t be subjected to my dude mess.” “Your dude mess?” I questioned. “Yeah, the wet towels on the floor, water on the sink and other signs that a dude had occupied the facilities,” he laughed. “I know how you ladies prefer a sparkling clean environment in which to get ready.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re crazy!” I laughed. “Yes. Yes I am,” he smiled. “I mean it’s not like you women don’t make a mess of the place in the process of making yourselves pretty.” “What the heck are you taking about?” I demanded with a laugh. “I don’t know, I’ve always wondered if the beauty of a woman is in direct proportion to the amount of mess she leaves in the room where she makes the pretty happen,” he mused. “What do you think?” “I think you’re nuts!” I laughed harder as I dug through my bag and located the items I’d need, then headed into the bathroom and shut the door. The hot water felt heavenly as I shampooed my hair and shaved my legs, and for the first time in a week, I actually felt safe. I relaxed a little as I dried off and then pulled on my clothes. “Is the food here yet?” I called through the closed door.

“Not yet! But they called and said they’d be up within 10 minutes,” Brian yelled back. Knowing that I had a bit of time, I dabbed on a little foundation and stroked a couple of layers of mascara on my lashes before dabbing my lips with a bit of pink lip gloss. I stepped back from the mirror as I ran a comb through my hair and appraised myself. Considering that I hadn’t slept much and that I was a bundle of nerves, I didn’t look half bad. I looked at my reflection and said, “You’re going to be okay, Ava.” I wasn’t sure if I believe it, but it felt good to reassure myself. I hung up my towel, wiped down the sink, and then exited the bathroom just as the room server knocked on the door. Instinctively, I headed for the door, but Brian bounded ahead of me and pushed me out of the way. He motioned toward the chair in the corner and indicated that I should go sit down. I shrugged and went over and sat down. “Who is it?” Brian called through the door. “Room service, sir,” came the reply.

Brian cracked the door and took a good look at the delivery person before he opened the door and stepped out. Before he invited him in, Brian checked each of the plates by lifting the cover and sniffing the food. I smiled as I realized what he was doing and wondered what the delivery guy was thinking, but if the guy thought it was weird, he gave no indication, and simply nodded as Brian invited him in. He rolled the cart over near the couch and handed the bill to Brian, who signed it and thanked him. Moments later, we were digging into the feast as if we’d never eaten before. We ate in silence, and I knew we were thinking about the same things. How to keep each other safe from Dominic being the primary issue. I watched Brian digging into his burger and wondered what he would look like sitting at my family’s table during the holidays. Then, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, I shook my head and returned to eating my own food. “What?” Brian asked.

“Nothing,” I replied as I took a huge bite of my sandwich so that I would have an excuse not to talk. “Okay, just checking,” he shrugged and popped a fry in his mouth, then took a big gulp of the soda in front of him. “This food isn’t half bad, is it?” “Mmmmph, rths not,” I mumbled through the food. “Personally I prefer foie gras with a good pinot,” he said casually. “Well, when I could still drink pinot and not black out.” “You what?” I said almost choking on the fry I’d just bitten into. “What? You thought I was just a dumb musclehead?” he asked with a smile. “That I guzzled cheap beer and didn’t know the difference between pinot and cabernet?” “No, I just…” “You just thought I didn’t know about the finer things, did you?” he was serious now.

“I guess, if I’m honest, I didn’t think you did,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s a common mistake. No hard feelings.” “I’m sorry, Brian,” I said more quietly, setting my sandwich down and leaning back on the couch. Between the worrying and the teasing, I’d lost my appetite. “Ava, don’t get mad,” he said. “I’m sorry I baited you into that. It’s just that that letter really got to me. I’m not stupid.” “No one said you were,” I replied. “I know, but having a rich educated guy say that I’m not smart enough to be with someone like you, well…” he trailed off. “I get it,” I said. “Do you?” “I mean, I don’t get it get it, but I understand why it might be something that would dig at you,” I replied.

Brian nodded as he finished off his burger, and then stared at my plate. “Oh my God,” I laughed. “Go ahead, finish mine. I’m done.” “You sure?” he asked. “Yes, I’m positive. Eat it!” I laughed harder when I saw the forlorn look on his face. “You are so pathetic.” Brian happily polished off the rest of my sandwich and all of the fries that had grown cold on my plate, then he searched the cart and found dessert hiding on the shelf under the main serving area. “Ooooh, look at this! Chocolate cake and cheesecake!” he announced as he pulled he plates out and set them in front of me. “None for me, I’m stuffed,” I said as I held a hand up. “Fine, then all the more for me!” he cried as he dug in to the chocolate cake.

I watched him devour the sweets and marveled at his appetite and his ability to find the good in even the most stressful situation. He smiled as he polished off the cake and then moved on to the cheesecake. “How can you eat all of that and not get sick?” I asked. “Training, it’s all about the training,” he said as he tucked another forkful in his mouth. I shook my head and laughed, but when I looked back over, Brian had frozen with the fork halfway to his mouth. He was listening intently to some sound that only he could hear, and all amusement had disappeared from his face. There was something happening, and I was attuned enough to his way of monitoring things that I didn’t even ask. I just waited for him to give me a signal. Silently, he set the fork on the table before he got up and moved toward the door. He put his ear to the door and listened as he held up a hand indicating that I should be silent, too. I nodded and held my breath, and after what felt like forever,

Brian dropped his hand and came back to the table where he picked up his fork and finished off the last bite of cheesecake. “What was that?” I asked, stunned that he could just flip the switch and go back to what he was doing while I was still shaking. “Nothing, I guess,” he said. “I thought I heard something outside the door.” “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I said with a wry grin. “That’s Admiral Obvious to you, missy,” he grinned. I groaned and fell back on the couch. I wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard something or not, but I trusted his instincts and wasn’t going to question them, even if he did tell really bad jokes. ***** Brian sat down on the couch, grabbed the remote, and looked for the local newscast. We watched in silence for a bit, but it had been a draining day, and it wasn’t long before I felt

myself nodding off. I pushed myself up off the couch and went to brush my teeth before turning in for the night. Brian was glued to his phone as he frantically texted someone and didn’t notice me leave the room. “Ava!” he shouted just as I had put my toothbrush in my mouth. “Whgut?” I said through a mouth of toothpaste. “Ava!” his voice was frantic and I could hear him rushing around the room. I stepped toward the doorway just as he yanked back the door, slamming it into the wall, shouting, “Where have you been?” I bent over and spit into the sink then straightened up and said, “Right here, in the bathroom, brushing my teeth. Where did you think I’d gone?” “I don’t know,” he mumbled as he turned around. “I was just worried. Don’t do that!” “Do what?” I asked.

“Disappear on me!” he insisted. “But I didn’t disappear!” I argued. “You were on your phone and I simply got up and came into the bathroom! Chill out, sailor!” “Whatever,” he grumbled as he checked his phone again. I finished up in the bathroom and then went to find my pajamas. As I dug through my bag, I could hear Brian rapidly tapping the screen of his phone in the other room. I had no idea what he was doing, but I decided that maybe I didn’t want to know. “I’m going to bed now,” I called as I stuck my head out of the bedroom. “I’m sleepy and I want to rest, okay?” Brian grunted, but otherwise didn’t respond, so I walked out of the bedroom and around to the front of the couch. “Brian, I’m going to bed now,” I said. When he didn’t respond, I leaned down and touched his shoulder to let him know I was speaking. In an instant he shot up off the couch,

grabbed my wrist, spun me around and had me in a chokehold with my arm behind my back. I screamed, and he immediately dropped his hold and backed off. “What are you doing?” I yelled as my heart raced from the adrenaline that the scare had sent coursing through my veins. “It’s ME!” Brian hung his head and sheepishly looked at the floor as he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” “What is going on with you?” I asked, worried that there was something really wrong and wondering if it was safe for me to go to sleep if there was. “I just got caught up in texting and forgot where I was,” he grudgingly admitted. “That’s not okay!” I yelled. “You scared me to death!” “I’m sorry, Ava,” he said. “Brian, what is going on? You’ve been on edge ever since we got here, and you’re scaring me,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Ava,” he repeated. “I’m just worried.” “Yeah, well, get a grip,” I shot back. “You’re going to give me a heart attack and then you’ll have nothing to worry about.” He smiled a little, and then looked up at me with worried eyes. “I don’t know what this guy is planning, and I’m worried that I won’t be able to counter whatever he comes up with.” “Well, we’re safe for the night, aren’t we?” I asked. “Yeah, as far as I know,” he replied. “Then come to bed,” I said. “I can’t, I’m going to sleep out here tonight,” he said. “It’s better that way.” “No, it’s not,” I whispered as I moved close to him and rested my palms on his chest. “I need you with me tonight. Please?” He looked at me for a long time before nodding slightly and leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Alright, but let me get the room secured.”

I nodded and turned toward the bedroom, when I looked back I saw him moving around the room checking all of the windows, then the door lock, and putting something over each of the entries to the room. He saw me and smiled as I shot him a questioning look. “It’s in case someone tries to break it,” he explained. “I’ll hear them and have time to counter the attack.” “Attack?” I asked. “You’re expecting an attack?” “Well, you know what I mean,” he said. Then dropped his voice and said, “I just want to keep you safe, Ava.” I motioned toward the bedroom and with a suggestive grin said, “Then come snuggle up next to me and shield me.” “Aye, aye!” he said as he returned the grin. It wasn’t long before Brian climbed into bed next to me and held out his arms. I moved into them and rested my cheek on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling safe and warm wrapped in his strong arms. We were both asleep in

minutes. ***** I was pulled out of a sound sleep by the sound of moaning and crying. At first I thought it was a dream, that I’d been pulled back into the nightmare of my relationship with Dominic and that the cries were mine and that I was fighting him off again, but soon I realized that it wasn’t me that was crying, it was Brian. I rolled over and found him restlessly tossing and turning as he called out in an unintelligible language. I reached over and shook him a little, but that seemed to increase the volume of his cries, and he was now thrashing on the far side of the king-sized bed; his feet and arms flailing as he began yelling. I still couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I knew better than to try and slide over and wake him up, so I called out, “Brian! Brian! It’s me, Ava! Wake up! You’re dreaming!” He continued moaning and thrashing, and now it seemed to be getting worse. I yelled again and gently lobbed my pillow at

him, hoping that the impact would somehow jar him out of the dream state he was in. Instead, he grabbed the pillow and began wrestling with it as if it were a person who was intent on doing him harm. “Brian!” I called with urgency in my voice. “Brian, wake up! It’s just a dream!” He thrashed harder now and began to yelled, “Get down, get down! No! No! Get down!” over and over again. I realized he was in the midst of a nightmare about something else, somewhere else, but I didn’t know how to bring him back to me. It wasn’t long before the yelling turned to screaming, and his frantic attempts to escape whatever horror he was reliving caused him to fall off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thud. The screaming stopped and I rushed to the other side of the bed to find Brian laying tangled in the sheets with a dazed look on his face. “Ava?” he said in a small voice. “Yes, Brian, I’m here,” I replied as I tentatively reached out

to stroke his head. I wasn’t sure how awake he was and I didn’t want to startle him, so I waited for him to give me another signal. “Ava? What…” he began before he looked up at me and then down at where he lay. He quickly sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he buried his face between his knees. Uncertain as to what he needed, I stroked his head softly and slowly as I felt him begin to shake. “Brian?” I whispered. “I’m here. What do you need?” He shook his head slowly as he continued to shake. It wasn’t long before he began to rock back and forth, as if he were trying to comfort himself. I heard the sound of sobs being choked back as he focused on breathing deeply and rocking. I left my hand on his head and waited silently. It took many, many minutes before he was calm enough to look up at me, but when he did, my heart broke. His face was contorted by pain and fear, and the only thing I could do was drop to my knees next to him and pull his head to my chest and

hold him tightly against my body. Brian wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my chest. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I whispered over and over. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” Brian shook his head and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. “What did you say?” I asked. “I’m not okay,” he murmured. “Yes, you are,” I replied. “No, Ava, I’m not okay!” he growled as he lifted his head and gave me a fierce look. “I’m so messed up, and I’m never going to be okay.” “What’s going on?” I asked, bewildered by the sudden shift in the power dynamic as I realized that I was protecting him from something neither of us could see. “It’s so screwed up,” he muttered as he shook his head. “I’ve kept it under control all week, but the lack of sleep and the

stress of trying to keep you safe…” “What? What did it do?” I pushed. “It triggered the nightmares,” he admitted with a deep sigh. “Nightmares?” “Yeah, from the war,” he replied. “Ava, they told me I have PTSD and that I’m going to probably live with it all my life. The memories aren’t going to go away, but in order to manage them I have to get enough rest, stay away from drugs and alcohol, and not get into situations where stress rules the roost.” “Then why are you doing this job?” I asked. “Because I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” he admitted with a wry grin. “I mean, really, what’s so hard about babysitting a college girl whose ex-boyfriend is a jerk?” I laughed a little as I heard him sum up what in any other world would have been a super easy security job, but I felt bad that my situation had caused him such pain and anguish. “Yeah, that sounds like a cakewalk…if it wasn’t me,” I

replied with a grin. “I’m sorry, Brian.” “It’s not your fault,” he said as he reached up and cupped my face. “It’s mine for not managing it better.” “Brian, what are we going to do?” I asked. “We need to call the police and tell them what’s going on,” he said seriously. “I can’t maintain protection on my own, Ava. Dominic is off the rails and we need help here.” “We can’t!” I cried. “You know that! You know I can’t get the police involved in this!” “Ava, it’s not safe,” he said. “Not for you, and now, not for me either.” I looked at him for a long while before I got up off the floor and looked down at him as I quietly replied, “Fine. If you need to back out and let my father hire someone else, then I understand.”

PROTECTOR #5

After I’d laid down the law on going to the police, Brian looked at me silently, then rolled over and went back to sleep without another word. I lay awake for a long time thinking about the consequences of calling the police and about what the stress of having to work this situation alone was doing to a man I was quickly becoming attached to, but in the end, I couldn’t see how we could involve the police in this without it becoming a nightmare for my father. Right before dawn, I drifted off into a fitful sleep. The next morning, I woke up early and moved to the living room, where I sat on the couch staring out the window as Brian slept. There were lots of things about him that I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand them. He’d obviously been through a lot in the military, and the effects of his experiences were rearing their ugly heads as he tried to

balance his job with what he was feeling for me. Every day we grew closer, but was it really a bond that could last or was it simply the result of being cooped up together in this emergency situation that forced us to keep moving closer? I was tired of running. I was tired of being afraid of Dominic. I’d spent a year trying to extract myself from his choking grip, and now I was right back to where I started. When would it ever end? “Hey, you’re up early,” Brian said as he emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” I replied in a tired voice before looking up at him. “You okay?” “Huh?” he gave me a confused look. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” “Well, last night was kind of intense,” I said. “Oh, that,” he looked away and then walked toward the window. “Yeah, well…”

“You want to talk about it?” I asked. With his back to me, he shook his head and then walked over, grabbed the remote, and flipped on the news. The sound of the morning’s activities filled the silent room, acting as a deterrent for more questions. He didn’t want to talk with me, but I didn’t accept this. “Brian,” I said loud enough to be heard over the television. “You know there are places where you can get help for PTSD, right?” “I don’t recall asking you for advice,” he said in a low voice. “I’m just saying that there are ways you can deal with this!” I replied. I wasn’t going to let him brush me off that easily. “You know what, Ava?” he growled. “I think it would be wise if you’d clean up your own house before you start trying to air out mine.” “What the hell are you talking about?” I replied in an

annoyed tone. “I’m just saying that before you try and make me deal with my problems, you should probably deal with your own, first!” he shouted. “You are a hot mess, you know that, don’t you?” “Me? I’m a hot mess?” I yelled back. “Oh, that’s a good one! The guy who can’t make it through the night without screaming in his sleep tells me I’m a hot mess. Very nice.” “Careful,” he warned as he stared at me. “You’re treading on thin, thin ice.” “You’re the one who started it!” I shot back. “Ava, I don’t want to talk about my issues,” he said calmly. “I’ve told you I don’t want to see a shrink, and I mean it. A stranger is not going to help me sort out the mess that’s in my head. So let it go.” “Fine,” I shrugged. “Whatever, but you really should think about talking to someone. Anyone. Family? Friends?” “Right, that’s a great option,” he laughed without humor.

“Dump all the crap that happened to me on my friends and family so they can live with it? Not happening.” “Oh, the irony,” I sighed. “What’s so ironic about that?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Nothing,” I murmured. “Never mind.” “Look, I’m sorry,” he said as he sat down next to me on the couch. “I know you mean well, it’s just that I don’t want to talk to anyone about it.” “Not even me?” I asked in a small voice as I looked into his eyes. Brian held my gaze for a few seconds before reaching out and pulling me into his arms. “Not even you, Ava,” he whispered into my hair. I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my cheek on his chest as I felt him breathing. ***** We sat entwined on the couch for what felt like a really long time. Neither one of us said a word, we just held on to each

other for dear life and waited for the panicked feeling to pass. Or at least that’s what I did. Brian didn’t give much away, and since I couldn’t see his face, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. So I let go and enjoyed the feeling of safety and security that I felt when he wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and let myself forget where I was and that my life was a disaster at the moment. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get some breakfast?” Brian murmured as he stroked my back and ran his fingers through my hair. “Mmmm hmmm,” I nodded against his chest without opening my eyes. “Then you go get ready and we’ll get out of this room for a bit, okay?” he said. “Okay,” I mumbled. I was warm and drowsy against his chest, but my stomach was rumbling, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d be so hungry I’d want one of everything on the menu. Brian slowly lifted me off of him and helped me stand,

then gently pushed me toward the bedroom. “Go get dressed. I’m starving!” he laughed as I fake stumbled toward the bedroom. “I’m not sure I like the way you push me around, sailor,” I grumbled as I made a show of how much energy it took to get ready. “You are such a drama queen!” he laughed harder as I shot him a dirty look and went to put on some clothes. I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt and pulled a brush though my messy hair, gathering it up into a loose ponytail before dusting my cheeks with a bit of blush and sweeping a layer of mascara on my lashes. I looked passable for breakfast, but the dark circles under my eyes made me look bruised, and I looked away as I remembered a time when those bruises kept me from going to class or seeing my friends. “Not again,” I whispered to my reflection. “You are safe.” “Did you say something?” Brian called from the other

room. “No, it must have been the television,” I called back as I dabbed a little concealer under my eyes. “Are you about ready?” he asked as I emerged from the bedroom. “Whoa! You sure do clean up nice!” “Whatever,” I said as I rolled my eyes. I looked a mess and I knew it, but it was nice of him to try and make me feel better. “I’m serious,” he said as he crossed the room and pulled me back into his arms. “You look beautiful.” “Don’t flatter me, I’m a hot mess,” I laughed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked up into the steel blue eyes that held my gaze. “Yeah, but you’re a beautiful hot mess,” he whispered as he leaned down and softly kissed my lips. “And don’t you ever forget that.” I closed my eyes as I returned his kiss and wished that we could remain like this forever.

Brian kissed my forehead before he let go, and began to unwind all of the security setups he’d put in place the night before. It was amazing how much he’d been able to do with the few tools he’d had available. He’d not only wedged a chair under the door handle, he’d also stacked several glasses from the bathroom next to the door so that they’d tip over and make noise if someone tried to enter while we were asleep. Between the curtains and the sheers on the windows, he’d hung several of the heavy metal coat hangers. If anyone had tried to get in, they would have made a racket. “You’re pretty inventive,” I commented. “Well, I had to work with what I had,” he replied as he moved things around and set up the system for while we were gone. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I want to make sure that if Dominic tries to break in, he won’t have an easy time,” Brian answered. “I also want to make sure that I’ll know exactly what went on in here if someone

breaks in and then leaves.” “A little paranoid, are you?” I laughed nervously. “I’m surprised you’re not,” he said seriously. I looked at the floor and said nothing. I was scared that Dominic had already done something to make sure he knew my every move. He’d done it before. Remembering how he’d bugged even the bathroom in our apartment and then used the smallest infraction to give him cause to beat me made me shudder. “You okay?” Brian asked with a concerned look on his face. “Yeah, just…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to drag him any further into this mess, but I felt like maybe I should tell him everything in order to ensure that we both remained safe. “Just what?” he asked quietly. “Just bad memories,” I replied distractedly. Telling Brian about Dominic’s experience with surveillance could wait until we had something to eat. “Let’s go get some breakfast, okay?”

“Alright, let’s go,” he replied warily. I knew he didn’t believe me and that he was waiting for the right moment to ask the questions that would give him a better sense of what was going on, but right now, I was too hungry to worry about it, so I smiled and headed toward the door. On the way down to breakfast, Brian resumed his eagle-eye scanning habit and gave every person that passed us the onceover. I wanted to tell him to chill out, but somehow it didn’t seem like he would find any humor in it, so I kept quiet and walked toward the restaurant. We’d decided not to leave the hotel, but rather to have breakfast downstairs in the relative safety of the hotel. Brian chose a table in the back where he could monitor the comings and goings of everyone. I didn’t care what he did, I just wanted waffles. I ordered a big breakfast and then sat back and watched Brian watching people. I wondered what was going through his mind as his eyes scanned every person entering and exiting the

restaurant. “You must get tired,” I said. “Huh?” he gave me a confused look. “You must get really tired using your eyes as tracking devices,” I repeated. “Don’t start hassling me, Ava,” he warned. “I’m not hassling you,” I replied. “I’m just making an observation. There’s a big difference.” “In semantics,” he said with a warning note in his voice. “No, it’s not just semantics,” I shot back. “It’s an observation about the fact that you are scanning faster than a grocery store checker, and I thought it must be tiring to always be scanning everything.” “I don’t even notice I’m doing it,” he replied. “It’s just part of who I am.” “Still,” I said.

“Still, what? Dammit, Ava!” He raised his voice in irritation. “Don’t get irritated with me,” I warned. “I’m tired of all of this cloak and dagger crap.” “Lest you forget, this cloak and dagger crap is all about protecting you,” he hissed. “I did not ask you to —” “Are you ready for a big Belgian waffle with strawberries?” chirped the waitress as she began to set plates in front of us. Brian and I lapsed into a polite silence during which we only spoke to the waitress. She giggled nervously as she asked if there was anything else we needed, and when we both replied that we were fine, she slipped out of sight and left us to eat our meal. I said nothing as I smeared butter on my waffle and then covered it in a thick pool of syrup. Brian cut up his eggs, mixed them with the potatoes and then poured catsup over the entire

mix. I tried not to roll my eyes as I watched him scoop up a forkful of the mess and shove it in his mouth. He continued scanning the restaurant as we ate, once stopping his fork in midair as he closely watched a man who was paying his bill at the register. “Let it go,” I hissed through a mouthful of waffle and strawberries. “Just eat your damn breakfast!” Brian shot me a look that clearly indicated I was to shut the hell up. I ate my breakfast, but the longer we sat in silence, the angrier I got. I didn’t ask to be cleared out of my dorm room! I didn’t ask to be sequestered in a stupid hotel far, far away from my friends and classes! I didn’t ask to be stuck in the middle of a psychotic ex-boyfriend and the bodyguard assigned to protect me! I didn’t ask for any of this! Suddenly, I felt incredibly sorry for myself. All of this was a mess that I had never wanted nor asked for, and now my life was being ruined by a man who had left me with nothing but a host of invisible wounds. I needed to take control of the

situation and get myself out of this mess, not rely on a guy who was clearly in over his head, and was overwhelmed by the task. “Brian?” I ventured. “What?” he said in a short manner, not looking at me. “I want to go back to the dorm,” I said. “What the hell is wrong with you, Ava?” he demanded. “Don’t you yell at me!” I cried. “I’m sick and tired of you making all of the decisions and I’m sick and tired of letting that psycho rule my life!” “Me making all the decisions? Me?” Brian raised his voice as he pounded a fist on the table, making the plates jump and causing the other guests to look over at us. He raised a hand in apology and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, you’re making all the decisions about how to manage this situation and I’m tired of it,” I replied. “If you recall, you were the one who refused to involve the police and left me hanging out to dry,” he said.

“I know! But I didn’t want to give my father the impression that you couldn’t handle it!” I cried. “Why? If he knew I needed help, he would get it, right?” he asked. “No, he’d fire you and find someone else who could handle it and then…” I trailed off not wanting to say what I was thinking. “And then what?” he pressed. “And then I’d have to break in a whole new person and it’s a pain in my ass!” I said dryly. Brian shot me a dirty look as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone for the 10th time since we sat down. “I need to take this call,” he said as he got up and moved out of earshot. I signaled the waitress that I wanted to pay the bill and she quickly rushed over to take the credit card I held out. I needed an outlet for this frustration, and I knew just the thing.

***** When Brian finally returned, I shot him a questioning look. When he shrugged in response, I picked up the receipt for breakfast, shoved it in my purse, and got up from the table. “I need to work out this morning,” I said matter-of-factly. “Let’s hit the gym.” “Ava, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Brian replied. “Oh, stop being such a worrywart,” I scolded. “We’ve had zero problems thus far, and I don’t imagine that Dominic and his henchmen have any idea where we are.” “You don’t know what they know,” he warned. “Oh my God, you are such a nervous Nellie!” I laughed. “Get over it; I need to work out, and that’s what we’re doing.” Brian shot me an annoyed look as we walked to the elevator and headed back to the room. I ignored his dark scowl and even whistled a little as the elevator lifted us to our floor. Once in the room, I headed to the bedroom and changed into my workout

gear. It made me feel good to think about moving my body since we’d been sitting around in rooms for almost a week now. “Ready?” I asked as I emerged from the bedroom. Brian was still scowling as he nodded and then headed out the door to check the hallway. I rolled my eyes dramatically as he checked both sides of the hall and the motioned for me to follow him back to the elevator. “This spy routine is getting old,” I said sarcastically. “Ava, if you can’t get on board with the protection plan, could you at least have the courtesy to not make sarcastic remarks about it?” he asked. There was something in the tone of his voice that made me stop and look at his face. He didn’t look happy at all, but I wasn’t happy either. In fact, I was pretty miserable at the moment. My whole life had been upended and he was acting like it was an inconvenience for him, when he’d been hired to ensure that this exact thing didn’t happen. As I thought about it more, I realized I was really angry. “You know what? I’m tired of being told what to do and

how to do it,” I asserted. “From now on, I’m running this show and you will do as I say. Got it?” If looks could kill, I’d have been well on my way to the morgue, but he nodded and backed off as I jabbed the elevator button repeatedly. I didn’t care if he did have my best interests at heart, I was sick and tired of people trying to control me. When the elevator finally arrived, I stalked into it and crossed my arms over my chest. Brian entered the elevator and turned to face the front. I shot dirty looks at the back of his head as we descended to the ground floor. When we reached the bottom, Brian stood aside as the doors slid open, and held out his arm like I was royalty. I shot him a look as I exited and marched toward the gym. I quickly located a treadmill and hung my towel over the bar before stretching out. Brian positioned himself at the free weights and I watched him in my peripheral vision as he stretched and began pumping iron. It was hard for me not to be distracted by the sight of his bulging muscles, but I fought the

urge to turn and watch and began my own workout. I set the treadmill to mimic a slow but steady hill climb, and began jogging to warm up. I soon lost myself in the rhythm of my feet pounding on the treadmill and let my mind wander to the places where I hadn’t wanted to go. I thought about how far I’d come in the past year since leaving Dominic, and I tried to puzzle out what would have caused him to want to start stalking me after having left me alone for so long. Why was he so obsessed with me? What triggered the obsession? Why did he want me back after all this time? None of it made any sense to me, but I knew there had to be a reason. People didn’t just start stalking for no reason. Did they? As I ran, I noticed someone climbing onto the treadmill next to me, and I quickly looked over and nodded, and then did a double take. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I quickly looked over to where Brian was working out and saw that he was furiously tapping the screen of his phone as he

shook his head. He hadn’t seemed to notice the guy next to me, and if he had, he wasn’t worried, so I relaxed and told myself that I was imagining things. I picked up my pace for the last few miles and tried to run a fast time rather than slack off and get lost in my mind. It worked for a bit, but soon, I got the nagging feeling that I was being watched, and when I looked over at the neighbor treadmill, I saw that the guy who’d been there was gone. That’s weird. He wasn’t there long enough to work up a sweat. I shrugged and figured he must be a businessman who got called away by his boss or something. As I began my cool down, I noticed that Brian was now lifting some seriously heavy weights and the veins in his neck were popping out. I made a note to tease him about “hulking out,” and then slowed to a brisk walk as my workout came to an end. I took a big swig from my water bottle and then wiped my face with the towel before hopping down off the treadmill and heading over to Brian.

“You about done?” I asked casually. “I need a shower.” “Yeah, sure,” he sighed as he put the weights back in the rack and grabbed his towel. I could tell he was irritated, but I’d be damned if I was going to dig into his psyche again. All I wanted now was a hot shower and a nap. As we exited the gym, I felt someone staring at me from across the lobby, but when I turned to see who it was, there was no one there. I stood staring at the space where I swear someone had been, then shook my head and turned back toward the elevator. I stole a glance a Brian, who was quickly tapping out a message on his phone before tucking it back in his pocket. “Do you ever put that thing down?” I asked. “Do you ever stop asking ridiculous questions?” he shot back. “Wow, did someone mess up your workout or did you just not get enough to eat at breakfast?” I snapped. “Ava, let’s don’t do this…” he trailed off as he watched a

man getting off the elevator. Brian turned and followed the man with his eyes, then quickly pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. “What? Do you recognize him?” I asked. “Him? Oh, no, just something…” he mumbled as he tapped out another message and then slipped his phone in his pocket as he followed me onto the elevator. “You’re being so secretive,” I observed. “Is there a reason you aren’t sharing information with me?” “No, there’s no reason,” he parroted. “You are so maddening!” I cried as I stomped my foot on the floor of the elevator. “You drag me away from my life and then tell me nothing about what’s going on! I’m sick of this! I want to go back to the dorm!” “Ava, you can’t go back to the dorm right now,” Brian said in a calm voice. “It’s just not safe.” “Oh God, not this crap again! I’m so tired of being treated

like some delicate hothouse flower!” I yelled. “Could you keep your voice down?” he asked, with no more emotion than if he was asking me to do something as simple as press the elevator button. “That’s it, I’m done with your condescending attitude and your overly protective bodyguard service,” I said calmly. “I’m going home.” “You can’t,” he said definitively. “I can do anything I want to do,” I said in a snotty tone. “And you can’t stop me.” “No, but I can ask you,” he said as he put a hand on my shoulder and turned me toward him. “Ava, please? Just give me a few days to have someone set up enough security in your dorm room so that I can properly monitor what’s going on?” I stood staring up at him with a defiant look on my face. He waited. His eyes softened as he looked into mine, and my defiant stance wilted a bit as I thought about all the ways in

which he’d tried to protect me, and all of the ways in which I’d tried to slip out of his protection. Then I thought about how angry my father would be if he found out that Brian had failed to do his job properly, and I realized that I couldn’t let him take the blame for my frustration and anger. I sighed and nodded. “Two days,” I said. “That’s it. Two more days and I’m going home.” “That’s not reasonable,” he replied. “I need at least a week!” “A week?” I yelled. “Oh, hell no!” “Ava, a week is the best I can offer you,” he said as he reached up and ran his fingers through my hair, making me shiver a bit. “It’s a small amount of time to ensure your safety. Give me seven days and you can go home.” “Fine, as long as we agree,” I said gruffly to try and cover up the effect he was having on me. “Seven days, and not a day more!”

“I just want to find him, and put him away so that you’ll be safe,” he said softly as he ran his fingers across my cheek before lightly brushing my lips with the tip of his index finger. That was too much, and I backed up against the elevator wall as I looked at him warily. “Don’t try and manage me,” I warned. “I might have had sex with you a couple of times and enjoyed it, but do not try and manage me because you think you have some kind of advantage over me.” “I’m not managing you,” Brian sighed as his shoulders slumped. “I’m simply trying to keep you safe.” At that moment, the elevator reached our floor, and the doors opened. I quickly walked out and headed down the hallway, failing to even notice the room service guy who was cleaning up the dishes left outside rooms until Brian said, “Hey, can you get us a few more glasses?” “That’s housekeeping, man,” the guy replied. “Call 611 and ask Jeannie for more glasses. She’ll bring them right up.”

“Thanks,” Brian replied with a pensive look on his face as he walked through the door I held open. “I’ll do that.” He walked into the room, turned around, closed the door, locked it, and went about putting all of the safety mechanisms back in place as I watched with wide eyes. “Just being safe,” he said as he stacked glasses near the door and then jammed a chair under the door handle. “Just being safe.” ***** The next several days were uneventful as we hung out in the hotel fitness room, ordered room service more often than going down to the restaurant, and watched every movie offered on the pay-per-view channels. I spent time trying to get my assignments from Jessie and Lara who, by this time, were well aware of the situation and had agreed to run interference in class without letting on what was happening. God forbid that one of my instructors should decide to intervene and alert the police, so Lara had concocted a lie that involved me traveling to some

exotic location for some campaign event that my father was hosting. The professors were wary, but once they received apologetic emails from both me and, after Jessie tapped into the ISP my father’s campaign was using and set up a fake email account for me to email people from, from my father, it seemed that everything would be okay. The irony of all of this was that my father did everything he could to keep me away from his campaign. He didn’t believe that I should have to suffer the consequences of his decisions, so he’d done his best to eliminate the need for me to attend any events or functions, and he rarely mentioned me in any of his stump speeches. He said it was an attempt to preserve my privacy, so out of a sense of loyalty, I tried to do the same. I rarely talked about my father or my family anywhere other than with my closest friends, and I never gave interviews. At times, I’d even denied that I was his daughter in order to avoid nosy reporters who were digging around looking for some angle. I knew eventually they’d catch me in the lie, but I didn’t care. It

was none of their business. The upside of the isolation was that it had given me time to formulate a solid plan for how to approach the anti-war action, and I’d spent several hours every morning writing letters and sending emails to people I thought might be able to offer support to our burgeoning movement. I’d gotten a couple of responses, but they’d been far from what I’d hoped for in terms of support and organizing power. On the third morning, I typed out an email to the members of the group asking them to contact a list of people I’d gathered and told them that we needed the support of the community in order to make our plan work. I assigned two of the committee members the task of contacting veterans, and told them that we definitely needed their support if we were going to make this work. I hit send and crossed my fingers, hoping that they’d be able to do what I’d asked. I looked up from my laptop and saw Brian sitting on the window ledge furiously tapping on the screen of his phone while he frowned.

“Will you please tell me what it is you are doing on that phone all the time?” I asked in an exasperated voice. I was sick of him constantly communicating with people I couldn’t see. “It’s really none of your business,” he replied in a tone that caused me to shrink back. “Sorry, I was just trying to figure out why you’re allowed to constantly be in contact, but I’m only allowed to communicate from a secret location and address,” I said pointedly. “Because my phone has security features that your laptop doesn’t have,” he said matter-of-factly. I knew he was pissed at me because I’d told him two nights before that I didn’t want him sleeping in the bed with me anymore. He was either going to be my bodyguard or my lover, but not both. I had to draw the line somewhere. He grudgingly accepted his role as bodyguard and had slept on the pull-out couch. I missed having him in bed next to me at night, but I wasn’t going to back down until he agreed to let me go home. It was the Lysistrata approach, and I had faith that if it had worked

for the ancient Athenian women who prevented a war, it would definitely work for my puny demands. “Well, then maybe I’m just interested in what’s going on with you these days?” I said in a sickly sweet voice. “Don’t manage me,” he said in a mocking tone. “I’m not managing you, I’m just asking a question,” I replied in a sassy tone. “I’m bored! I’m sick of being stuck in this room! I need some stimulation; something to do!” “What? You want me to take you to the zoo or an amusement park?” he said dryly. “Would you?” I replied excitedly. “Not likely,” he said in a flat tone. I dropped down on the couch and pouted, and I hoped he’d notice, but he’d gone back to his phone and didn’t see my dramatic performance. Suddenly it occurred to me that his interest in his phone was a lot like someone who’d just begun dating someone new. Was he on a dating site? Was he talking

with girls while he was with me? Had he met someone online and was texting her like crazy as a means of avoiding me? Maybe he’d fallen for her already and was planning on meeting her after he finished this job. Maybe I’d become nothing more than a job to him since I’d kicked him out of bed. The thought left me with a lump in my throat and a sick feeling in my stomach. He was busy planning his life after me. The thought of Brian being interested in someone new sent my brain spinning down a path of destruction. I was mad and hurt, but most of all, I was frustrated that we weren’t doing anything to find Dominic and put an end to his reign of terror. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to stop him because he was rich and he was incredibly manipulative, and right now he had everyone fooled. Dominic’s modus operandi was to be friendly and amiable in public, and then to take out his frustrations in extraordinarily cruel ways in private. He intimidated his victims in a way that kept us all silent and afraid. I knew I wasn’t the

only one who’d suffered at the hands of the blond monster, but how to get to the others without him knowing was a whole other matter. When we returned from the gym on the third morning, I headed to the shower as I plotted my strategy for getting Dominic out into the open and exposing his nasty secrets. I turned on the water and began peeling off my workout clothes as I thought about the kinds of things that would attract him and how I could shape the encounter to trap him in his abuse. I didn’t want to let Brian know what I was doing because I didn’t think he’d agree with my approach, and I knew he would definitely not agree with my idea of using myself as bait to lure Dominic into the trap. The only thing that scared me was that if I did what I was planning, I’d have no backup. It would have to work seamlessly the first time or we’d be in real trouble. I stepped into the shower and began planning. As I emerged from the bathroom, I saw Brian on his phone, and my blood began to boil despite the fact that I’d told myself

over and over that it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. None of this was real. I just had to endure it for a little while longer and then I could go back to the life I’d shaped on campus. “You’re really adept at texting,” I observed casually. “I’m working on something,” he replied absently. “Oh yes, I can see that,” I tossed back. “What does that mean?” He looked up as he caught the hint of sarcasm in my voice. “Nothing, just an observation,” I shrugged. “It sounds like a whole lot more than observing going on under the surface of that statement,” he replied. I looked at him and debated whether I wanted to get into the discussion, but when the phone buzzed yet again. I swallowed my feelings and just shook my head as I headed over and fired up my laptop. “I’m going to do some homework and see if I can’t stay caught up in my classes,” I said.

“Alright, if you’re sure you don’t have anything to say to me,” he offered. “If you want to get something off your chest, just let me know.” “What on earth would I possibly want to get off my chest?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one with the silent beef.” “I don’t care what you do!” I said a little too forcefully. “I just want to go home in four days. That was our deal.” “Indeed it was,” he replied, and then said nothing else. I sat waiting for him to say more, but once I realized he’d lapsed back into silence, I turned toward my computer and began pulling up the assignments that Jessie and Lara had pulled together for me. I’d been able to download copies of the textbooks from the online store, so I spent the first hour reading the definitions of various psychiatric conditions, and when I got to the section on

Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I sat staring at the screen for a long time. It wasn’t that I was unaware of Dominic’s personality traits, it’s that I’d never seen them laid out so clearly before. The book defined NPD as “characterized by an overinflated sense of self-importance, as well as dramatic, emotional behavior that is in the same category as antisocial and borderline personality disorders.” Nothing about that was surprising, but when I got to the definition of Sociopathy, I stopped reading and sat in front of the screen, afraid to move as I tried to control my breathing. It defined a sociopath as “characterized by enduring antisocial behavior, diminished empathy and remorse and disinhibited or bold behavior,” and what struck me about it most was that Dominic exhibited all of these characteristics, and had since the beginning. And I hadn’t noticed. As I read further, I realized that I could use these personality traits to manipulate him into my trap and catch him, but it was going to require me to go back to playing the victim long enough to get him to believe that I wanted to come back to

him, and I wasn’t sure that I could do that without damaging my psyche. I’d worked too hard to rebuild my self-esteem after I’d left Dominic, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to play with the foundation I’d built for fear that it would crack under the strain. The more I read, the more I wondered if it was wise to enact my plan. What if Dominic brought a weapon? What if he decided he wanted to hurt innocent bystanders? What if he decides he wants to kill me instead? The last question replayed over and over in my mind as I tried to decide what was the best way to proceed. I knew I should be telling Brian about this, but I didn’t want to hear him tear the idea down, and I definitely didn’t want him to move into protective mode above and beyond what he was being paid to do. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Brian was sitting on the couch engrossed in a texting conversation, so I turned back to the computer and began composing an email that I hoped would bring Dominic out of hiding and give me the opportunity to expose him for the monster he was.

Dear Dominic, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said and written and I keep remembering how we had so many good times together and I don’t want to throw that away. I’m hesitant to jump back into anything, but I do feel like you deserve a chance to make your case and that I deserve the opportunity to hear what you really have to say to me. We shared a great love, and maybe it’s possible to revive what we once had and shape it into something even better. Will you meet me on Thursday afternoon? I’m staying at our favorite escape with the bodyguard my father hired to “protect” me. Please, don’t worry about him, he’s nothing more than a hired gun who reports back to my father and sits around texting all day. He’s no competition for you, so let go of those thoughts and come find me and sweep me off my feet again. Fondly,

Kitten I had to swallow the bile that rose in the back of my throat as I reread my message. I felt none of the things I claimed to feel, and even writing them made me feel sick, but it was necessary if I wanted to lure Dominic into the trap I was about to set. I hesitated for a moment, swallowed again, and then pressed send. I looked up from the computer and caught Brian staring at me from across the room. “What?” I asked. “Nothing, just wondering how the homework is going,” he said. “It’s. It’s fine. Why?” I asked. He was making me nervous with the way he was watching me, or maybe it was just my guilty conscience at work. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about me beyond what he needed to do to end the situation and get rid

of me so that he could get back to the new girlfriend on the other end of his phone. “I’m just curious, that’s all,” he replied with a small grin that irritated me to the core. “Well, maybe you should MYOB and get back to work figuring out how to get me home, hmm?” I replied in an annoyed tone. “Yep, I’m on it, princess,” he said, his voice full of sarcasm and mocking. “You are such a jerk,” I muttered under my breath. “Oh, don’t I know it,” he muttered back, making me blush with shame. I didn’t want to be mean, but he was making me so mad at every turn, and the longer I sat there, the angrier I became until I was almost bouncing in my chair. “Why are you doing this?” I shouted as I turned and looked at him. “Doing what?” he asked with an innocent expression on his

face that sent me over the edge. “You are driving me crazy!” I yelled. “You are all nice and sweet to me and then you turn on me and now you’re totally cut off and cold. You don’t even notice I’m here because you’re so busy texting your little girlfriend…” A look of horror crossed my face as I heard the words slip out of my mouth. I’d had no intention of saying a single word about how I felt, but there it was, like a toxic cloud hanging over us, and I had no way of calling it back. I bit my lip and looked away as he burst out laughing. “You have got to be kidding me!” He laughed harder. “No,” I said as I narrowed my eyes and looked at him suspiciously. “I’m not.” “My girlfriend?” He was laughing so hard could barely spit out the words. “Ava, when in the hell do I have time in the middle of this mess to find a girlfriend? Forget about trying to court her!” He was roaring now, and I was getting more and more pissed as he mocked me and my confession.

“Well, you’re on that phone texting like a maniac night and day,” I said. “What else could possibly be occupying so much of your time but a woman?” “Oh man, you are a piece of work!” he declared. Then turning to face me, he looked at me for a long time before speaking again. “Ava, I assure you that there is no woman aside from you.” I waited for him to say something more, but he simply stared at me in silence until I looked away. “Okay then,” I said quietly. I had no idea what to say next. He’d given nothing away, and I didn’t want to risk blurting out how I felt about him only to have him start laughing again. So I asked, “Then what are you doing on that phone?” “It’s something, um, personal,” he said quietly. “Well, this whole mess is really personal for me, and I let you into that,” I said smartly. “It’s only fair that you let me into your stuff!”

“The difference is that I’ve been hired to do a job that involves protecting you,” he said. “It has to be my business.” “Oh, so that’s how it goes,” I shot back. His remark stung and I was on the defensive now. “All the other personal stuff you told me was just part of the job?” “No, that was…different,” he muttered. “It’s just that this is really personal, and I didn’t think it was right to involve you in it. Plus, you didn’t seem all that…welcoming.” “Just because you’re sleeping on the couch, doesn’t mean I don’t care about what’s going on with you,” I chided. “Well, it’s not like we’re spending a whole lot of time sitting around talking,” he replied. “Probably because you’re on your phone all the time,” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. His face darkened briefly before he looked over and saw me smiling. “Touché,” he said as he returned my grin. “Fine, let’s talk then.”

“I’ve already started the conversation,” I pointed out. “I asked what you’re doing to get me home.” “I’ve got a plan that I’m working on with a couple of former SEAL buddies,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how it’s going to play out, so I don’t want to say anything before we get the pieces in place, but I should know more this evening, and if I do, I’ll tell you then.” “Is that what all the texting is about?” I asked. “Um, no, not really,” he stammered as he looked away. “Then what is it?” I probed. “Ava, I think there are some things better left alone, okay?” he said. The look on his face begged me not to push, so I let it go. “Fine, whatever,” I said as I turned back around and looked at my homework. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I thought about how he was shutting me out when I had let him into the darkest parts of my life, but I was determined not to let him see

me break down. “Ava,” Brian whispered in my ear making me jump. He’d gotten up and silently moved across the room. “You can push me away all you want, but at the end of the day I’m still going to be here.” “But only because you’re being paid to be here,” I whispered at the desk as I bowed my head and I fought back the tears. I was not going to cry. “Is that what you think?” he said softly as he ran his fingers through my hair and pulled it away from my face. “Do you think I’m only here because I’m being paid to be here?” I nodded, unable to speak without giving away my fragile emotional state. Brian bent down and scooped me up off of the chair and carried me to the couch, where he gently set me down and then sat across from me. He took my hand and looked into my eyes for a long while. “I’m not here just for the paycheck,” he said. “Let’s get that

cleared up. I’m here because your father hired me, that’s for sure, but I stay because of you, Ava.” He stopped and let that sink in as I looked back at him. “You’re not going to leave as soon as this is all over?” I asked. “You’ll stay with me?” “Well, that’s a difficult one, you know?” he replied. “My job requires me to travel, and you’re still in college. You’ve got so much to do and see and experience, and I’ve…well, I’ve lived a really different life.” “So, you’ll just pack up and leave when this is over?” I said defensively. “I didn’t say that,” he smiled as he held my hand tightly. “I just said that there were going to be a lot of challenges for us to face. You sound like you want me to stay.” I nodded, and then the dam broke and I began to cry. I cried not only because I wanted him to stay, but because I was tired of living a life where everyone left. I was tired of being shuttled

around from place to place and having nowhere to call home. I was tired of feeling like an outsider in my own life. Brian moved forward and pulled me into his arms. He held me as I cried, sobbed really, just stroking my back and saying “It’ll be okay” over and over. When the tears finally subsided, I felt as if I’d run a marathon. I was exhausted and hungry. Brian called down and ordered a huge dinner for both of us, and then went into the bathroom and ran a tub full of hot bubbles before coming out and telling me to go take advantage of it before the dinner arrived. I stood up and nearly stumbled. Brian swiftly caught me and carried me to the bathroom, where he gently removed my clothes before depositing me in the hot, scented water. “Don’t drown,” he warned as he went out to the living area to set up for dinner. I giggled a little and nodded, indicating that I’d do my best to obey his order. As I lay in the tub, I felt the stress of the day sliding away, and I closed my eyes as I tried to relax.

I had no idea how this was all going to work out, but maybe, for once in my life, things would work out in a way that didn’t leave me feeling alone. ***** I emerged from the bathroom feeling relaxed and drowsy, and found Brian setting up the dinner dishes that the room server had delivered. It was a veritable feast, and my mouth watered as I looked at the plates full of crisp field greens mixed with bright red tomatoes and pale green cucumbers next to dinner plates containing perfectly grilled filets, baked potatoes bursting out of their skins as they dripped butter and sour cream, and pan-fried asparagus stalks coated in bread crumbs and parmesan cheese. I wouldn’t have known all of this had Brian not handed me the menu that accompanied the meal. “Madame,” he said with a big grin as he pulled out a chair for me and motioned me to sit down. I laughed and sat. The smell of the food made my stomach growl as I remembered that I’d not eaten anything since breakfast.

“This looks amazing,” I complimented him. “Perhaps I should let you order all of my food from now on.” “Nah, I’m a one-trick pony,” he joked. “I can pick out meat and potatoes, but the rest is beyond my skill level.” “You’re hilarious,” I said dryly, shooting him a grin as I put my napkin on my lap and picked up my knife and fork. “But seriously, this looks delicious.” “I aim to please,” he said with a mouth full of baked potato as he sawed at his filet. He ate like a man who had a limited amount of time to ingest his food before it was taken away. “Slow down, we’re not in a race, sailor,” I laughed. He gave me a sheepish grin as he lowered his utensils and took a sip from his glass of water. We were quiet as we ate, but Brian watched me with a questioning look and I knew he was itching to ask something. “So, I have to ask you,” he said on cue. “We’ve been together for almost a week now and there have been some

harrowing moments that I’ve reported back to HQ, but something is puzzling me.” “I know,” I said. I’d been prepared for this question from the first day. “You want to know why my parents never call me, right?” “Yeah, actually, that was my question,” he said, amazed that I’d somehow read his mind. It wasn’t so much that I’d read his mind as it was that I’d been answering this same question for most of my life. I explained to him that everyone at boarding school and then at college talked about weekly obligatory phone calls or having to check in with their parents or having to ask for money from their parents, and so kids were always asking me why I never had to do anything of these things. No check-ins and no calling to ask for money, instead, once a month I wrote a summary of my activities, printed it out, and mailed it to my father. The money was automatically deposited in my account on the 1st and 15th day of the month, and I was given such a

generous allowance that I usually ended up depositing what was left over in a separate savings account I’d started at the boarding school. “I’m not sure if my father was being savvy and teaching me business skills or if he simply didn’t want me to bother him and my mother,” I admitted. I couldn’t condemn my father, after all, he’d never been cruel to me, just indifferent. My mother was a whole other matter, and one that I didn’t really feel like sharing over dinner. “But how can they not check in and see how you’re doing?” he asked. “Easy, they just don’t,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s not a crisis, it’s just the way my family operates. I think my grandfather raised my father the exact same way, so what do you expect? We do what our parents teach us to do.” “But if that’s the case, then how did you get involved with Dominic?” he asked as he shoved another loaded fork into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he waited for my answer.

“I already explained that,” I said. “I was duped by his personality and the money.” “That makes no sense to me,” he mused. “You have money, and Dominic is a sociopath! He doesn’t care about anything except his reputation and his stuff.” “Like I said,” I replied as I stared at my meat while I carefully carved a bite-sized piece from the juicy filet. “We do what our parents teach us to do.” Brian watched me closely as he continued to chew. Suddenly the light bulb went on and he leaned across the table. “Are you telling me—” “Just let it go, Brian,” I said pointedly. “Just let it go.” He looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments, and then cut another piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. “But what about your grandmother? You said she loved you,” he said. “That was a whole other matter,” I said quietly.

“Tell me about it,” he urged as he looked into my eyes. “I want to know you — all of you.” “My grandmother was the center of my universe,” I began. “I told you about our last trip together and what happened afterwards.” Brian nodded and continued picking at his food. I picked up a piece of asparagus with my fingers, bit off the tip, and chewed as I thought about how to explain my grandmother to him. “My grandmother was the epitome of high society,” I said as I thought about how she’d always dressed for dinner and insisted that I do the same when I was visiting her. “She had impeccable taste and valued courtesy and manners above all else. She used to say that without manners we were no better than a tray of ice cubes.” Brian laughed out loud as I giggled remembering how every time she’d said this, I’d laughed because it was so ridiculous. I told him about how she’d once spent my entire spring break teaching me how to curtsey and pour the perfect cup of tea just

in case I was ever invited to meet the Queen of England. Then I told him about how she’d made a habit of sending me books by Miss Manners and Leticia Baldridge in order to drive the lessons home. I was expected to read and memorize certain portions of the books so that I could recite them to my grandmother on command. It was nerve-wracking because she was demanding and did not suffer fools, but she always stepped in and helped me fill in the blanks when I couldn’t remember the exact words I’d read. It was the spirit of the law that mattered to her, not the letter of it. “Didn’t she see what was going on with your parents?” Brian asked. “Of course she did,” I replied. “That’s why she spent so much time with me. She knew I was lost and lonely, and that I had no idea why my parents ignored me.” “But couldn’t she have said something to your father?” he asked. “Oh, she did,” I said as I shook my head, recalling all the

times my grandmother had confronted my father about his neglectful parenting. “She was merciless in her critique of his failure as a parent.” Brian nodded as if he understood what I was explaining. I told him about the frequent fights between my father and my grandmother, and the way in which she berated him and made him seem small and weak. I was never sure if he knew I’d heard the abuse, but I was fairly certain she’d known that I had often been lurking outside the sitting room where they had their conversations. She was cruel and spiteful, and she said some incredibly awful things to him and about him. “I never quite understood why,” I said, remembering the last time they’d fought. “My grandmother was so incredibly kind to me and she had the biggest heart in the world. It always seemed so odd that she could love me so much and hate my father with such intensity. Or at least I thought she hated him, but then, I was 14, what did I know?” “Yeah, it’s hard to understand that stuff when you have no

frame of reference or history,” he agreed. I stopped and looked at him carefully. He knew something. What that something was, I didn’t know, but I was going to find out. “The last fight they’d ever had was right before my grandmother was to take me to Europe,” I recalled. “My father showed up to bring my passport and be supportive, I think. My grandmother lit into him before they’d even closed the door. She dressed him down for being inattentive, and then scolded him for not bringing my mother with him to wish me a good trip. She knew that my mother wasn’t well and that she’d been hospitalized yet again, but she couldn’t help but poke at my father’s wound.” I explained how my father tried to defend himself by explaining what had happened to my mother, but my grandmother had coldly cut him off with a, “You’re just like your father; good for nothing,” and then stormed out of the drawing room. She saw me there listening, and for a moment, I saw a look of pain cross her face before she rushed upstairs. She

spent the next two days in her room, and on the third day, she emerged with her hair and makeup perfectly done and announced that we’d be leaving for New York that afternoon. We hadn’t been scheduled to travel until the end of the week, but she had decided it was better to get to the city and wait for our flight. I described how we’d spent several days in New York City shopping and eating and having a grand time, but that every time I looked at my grandmother, she seemed sad. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but at 14 I still had a healthy respect for adults, and she’d been my manners coach, so I didn’t dare ask. “I loved my grandmother more than anyone in the world, but she was…” I trailed off. “She sounds like she was troubled,” Brian interjected. “Yeah, troubled is a good word for it,” I affirmed. I looked over at him. I’d been talking for what felt like hours and he looked ready to drift off into a comfortable food coma. I

laughed. “Do you need to get to bed?” “Who, me?” he asked in a sleepy voice. “I’m not tired at all! I could party all night.” “Sure, sure, big man,” I laughed. “Do you want to share the bed with me? It’s more comfortable than the couch, I think.” “Why, Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?” he joked. “Oh, get real, I’m just being nice,” I said, laughing that he was using a line from a 1970s movie on me, a younger woman. “We can share.” “Yeah, that would be nice, if you don’t mind,” he said more seriously as he yawned and stretched. “My back is killing me and that couch is not made for guys my height.” I felt guilty that I’d made him spend so many nights on the couch, but I’d had to in order to gain some kind of distance from him. Tonight would be different, we’d get a good night’s sleep and figure out the game plan in the morning. I smiled as I

walked to the bedroom and changed into my pajamas as Brian set up the security system for the night. ***** We slept soundly that night and woke up wrapped in each other’s arms the next morning. I woke first and lay next to Brian watching him sleep. He hadn’t had a night terror in a few days, and the look on his face was one of complete peace. I lay my head on his chest and listened to the sound of his heart beating slow and steady as he breathed in and out. It was meditative, and I drifted into a peaceful place between sleep and awake, so it was a few minutes before I realized that he’d woken up and was gently stroking my hair. “Morning,” I said as I looked up at him and smiled. He gave me a sleepy morning smile and then tightened his arm around me. “Morning, beautiful girl,” he whispered into my hair. I shivered as I felt his fingers move from my hair to my cheek and begin to trace a light path from my forehead to my chin. I lifted

my hand and placed it over the top of his as he stroked my face, loving the feel of touching him as he touched me. Slowly, he traced his fingers down my cheek until he could rest them beneath my chin and tip my face up toward his. We lay gazing into each other’s eyes for a long time before he dipped his head and brushed his lips across mine. I let out a soft moan as I felt his lips pressing against mine and the soft tip of his tongue lightly licking my upper lip. He ran his fingers through my hair as he lazily teased my lips. I could feel the blood coursing through my veins as I gripped his hand and returned his kisses. I arched my back to press my body against his and felt his hand move to the small of my back, where he played with the hem of my tank top before sliding underneath it and stroking my skin. I gasped as I felt his hand on my bare skin, and pressed my lips more insistently against his. He pulled back just enough to keep the kisses light and teasing, and I groaned. I wanted so much more than this morning tease and I could already tell he did, too, as I felt his

thick shaft pressed against my thigh as it swelled and grew harder. I smiled when he sighed deeply, and opened my eyes to look directly into his. In an instant, I knew he had ceded control, and I shifted so that I could sit up and look down at him as I slipped my hand into his boxers and grasped his cock. His eyes widened as I began slowly moving my hand up and down, then withdrawing my hand. I held his gaze as I brought it up to my mouth and ran it across my tongue several times, coating it in my saliva before slipping it back under his boxers and stroking more insistently now. “Oh, God,” he groaned as my slippery hand slid up and down over and over. “No, not God, just me,” I whispered in his ear seconds before I let go of his cock and yanked his boxers down. Brian watched me as I quickly slipped out of my pajamas and straddled his abdomen. “Oh, shit,” he whispered in awe. “You are incredibly

beautiful and unbelievably sexy.” “Well, thank you,” I smiled as I gripped his upper arms and began sliding myself down his body so that his cock was positioned between my outer lips, then I began slowly moving back and forth as I coated his cock with the wetness that was already freely flowing from between my legs. Brian held his breath as he felt me using him as a tool of masturbation, but I wasn’t letting him off that easily or that quickly. I reached down between my legs and grabbed ahold of his rock-hard shaft and teased my clit a little as I bent down and kissed him deeply. That forced a moan from Brian’s lips as he looked up at me with eyes full of desire and need. “You want it, don’t you?” I whispered into his lips. “God, yes,” he groaned. “I’ve never wanted anything more!” “Mmmmm,” I murmured as I continued my teasing. “Maybe I should give it to you, then?”

“Yes, Ava, please! Please!” he begged as he pushed his hips up, looking for a way inside my warm, wet pussy. I smiled as I firmly gripped his cock, guided it to the edge of my needy entry, and then slid down fast and hard. Brian gasped as he felt me envelop the length of his cock in one swift stroke, and then lay still as I began to rock back and forth on it. I could feel the tip pressing against my G-spot as I moved my hips, and I pressed my hands against his chest to give myself better leverage. Brian did his best to resist slamming his hips upward, but he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to the small upward thrusts that quickly began to push me to the edge of orgasm. With my hand between my legs, stroking my clit, I rocked back and forth, feeling his thickness filling me. I leaned forward and kissed him just as I reached the point of no return, and whispered, “Yes” into his lips. Brian reached around me and grabbed my ass so that he could thrust hard and deep as I came hard on his cock. I cried out as he slammed into to me once, twice, three times, and then

let out a deep moan that came from somewhere deep inside him as he stayed buried inside me as he released all the tension and need that had built up throughout the week. After we’d both returned to earth, we lay still, connected on the bed, me on top and him underneath, just holding each other. I wanted to tell him how much I’d missed this, but instead, I lifted my head and kissed his lips softly; hoping that he’d understand. ***** We lay tangled up in each other for a long time, and then, in a moment of impulsiveness, I said, “Tell me about your family. What are your parents like? I haven’t seen you calling them any more frequently than I’ve called mine now that I think about it.” “That’s different,” he said quietly. “There’s a reason for it. It’s just…complicated.” “Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” I said sarcastically. “My family dynamic is so simplistic and basic that I forgot that other

people’s families are really complex.” “Ava, don’t,” he cautioned. “That’s not what I meant.” “Sure it is,” I said. “That’s exactly what you meant, and I resent it.” “Ava, don’t ruin this, please?” he sighed heavily. “I’m not ruining it,” I retorted. “I’m asking you a personal question that you are refusing to answer. I’ve told you everything about my life. Everything about my parents, about my grandmother, about my relationship with Dominic, and now I’m asking you to reciprocate.” Brian sighed again as he pulled me closer and played with my hair. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was thinking about what I’d said. After a few minutes I felt him shift, then grab my arms and slide me off of him onto the bed next to him so that he could prop his head on his bent arm and run his hand over my naked body as he spoke. “My family is messed up, I’m going to warn you in

advance,” he said warily. When I nodded solemnly, he continued. “My father died when I was a baby. My mother never actually told me what happened, but there were rumors that spread around town and I heard them all. Some said he jumped off the water tower in the middle of town on a dare while drunk, and some said he smashed his car into a brick wall while driving drunk. You get the picture…my dad was a drunk.” I reached out and held his hand for a moment without saying a word. Brian nodded slightly and continued, “My mom and I were alone for what felt like a really long time, but it was really only about three or four years. She waited tables at a local diner, and neighbors took care of me while she was at work. It wasn’t bad, and I don’t remember us having any big problems, but then I was what, 4?” He laughed a little and I smiled up at him as he remembered. “Then one day my mom came home and said I was going to have a new dad. Two days later, Will moved in. He was a tall guy, a former Army sergeant who loved order and rules, and his

guns. God, the man loved his guns more than anything on earth. They scared the hell out of my mother, but Will told her not to be such a fraidy cat and took her out to the range to learn to shoot. She did it a few times, but she always came back swearing she’d never hold another gun again. Will was nice to me, he took me fishing and camping, and played ball with me, but about a year after he moved in, my mom gave birth to my sister and nothing was ever the same again. The sun rose and set on Claudia, and she was the cutest baby ever. I loved having a little sister, she was sunshine and love.” He stopped for a moment and bowed his head so that I couldn’t see his face. When he looked up again, it was obvious that there was a lot of deep emotion buried beneath the surface. I lay quietly as Brian continued to trace patterns on my naked skin, and after a minute or two, he continued speaking. “I was 12 the year that Claudia turned 6, and we threw a huge party for her in our backyard. Balloons, cake, games, the whole nine yards. There were at least 50 kids at the party, and at

some point we lost track of where Claudia was. Will told me to find her and bring her back to the party. None of us were worried because Claudia had a habit of drifting off and finding adventure or a new friend, but in our town, that wasn’t dangerous. Everyone knew who we were and someone always brought Claudia back home safe and sound. I scoured the entire block, but I couldn’t find her anywhere, so I headed back to the house to see if she’d come home before I expanded my search area. As I was headed up the front walk, I heard an incredibly loud bang. I turned to see if Butch Jackson was backing his hot rod out of the driveway across the street, but saw nothing, then I realized that the bang had come from inside our house. I tore up the stairs, ripped open the screen, and ran back to my mom and Will’s bedroom…” Brian trailed off as he choked up. He bent his head again and took a few deep breaths before looking up and saying, “Claudia had taken two of her friends back to the bedroom to show them Daddy’s “big gum,” that’s what she’d called it

because we’d all laugh when she said it. Anyway, she’d let her friend Caroline handle the gun and Caroline had accidentally pulled the trigger. For some reason, Will hadn’t locked up the gun or made sure the chamber was clear before he’d shoved it in the bedside drawer, and the bullet had gone straight through Claudia’s chest, tearing her aorta in half. She died almost instantly.” “After that, my mother started drinking pretty heavily, and Will got really strict with me. By the time I hit high school, he was waking me up at dawn to do morning workouts with him and came in to check that I’d made my bed according to regulation before I went to school. I’ve always joked that the military was a cakewalk for me compared to what I lived with at home.” He stopped and gave me a weak smile, and I squeezed his hand as I smiled back at him. “Anyway, I haven’t been home in a couple of years, I can’t go home. My mom is a raging alcoholic and Will is…well, he’s Will. He ignores her drinking until she needs medical attention

and then he waits for her to dry out enough to be allowed to come home. Every time she does, the cycle starts again and she winds up calling me to come get her because she thinks Will is trying to kill her. I can’t go there without wanting to take a drink myself, so I stay away.” “You must feel really alone,” I observed. “You have no idea—” he stopped and looked at me. “Oh wait, yes, you do.” “It’s okay, Brian,” I said. “I’m so sorry about your sister.” “It happens,” he shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m still sorry that it happened to you,” I said quietly as I reached up and stroked his cheek with my fingers. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. Brian nodded, then opened his eyes and leaned down and kissed me deeply. I held his face between my palms as I returned his kiss, and felt the two of us sharing all of our pain and

loneliness in a way that made it a little more bearable. “We’re going to get through this and we’ll be okay,” I whispered into his lips. ***** We lay in bed together for half the morning before Brian said he was hungry and that we needed to get something to eat. I agreed, and got up to go shower and get ready. We decided to go down to the restaurant for a change, so I took my time getting ready. I smiled at myself in the mirror as I stroked a coat of mascara on my lashes and then dusted peach blush on the apples of my cheeks to give me a little color. We’d been inside so long that I felt like I hadn’t seen the sun in ages. I pulled on a jean mini skirt and a loose-fitting T-shirt before I slipped my feet into a pair of thin black thongs. I looked at the rumpled bed and smiled to myself when I remembered the way Brian had held me against his chest and moved inside me. There was no denying that we had something special, and there was no way I was going to give it up after this was all said and

done. I wanted him in my life, and I was going to find a way to make that happen, no matter what I had to do. I could switch schools if I had to, I didn’t want to, but I had decided I would if it meant that Brian and I could be together. I grabbed my purse and skipped out into the living room to find Brian standing in the middle of the room, holding my open laptop in one hand and running his other hand over his crew cut with an anguished look on his face. I gave him a confused look before I realized what he was looking at — the letter! He’d found the email I’d written to Dominic. “Ava, really?” he said with so much pain in his voice it broke my heart. “You wrote this yesterday? And sent it?” “Brian, no wait, let me explain,” I cried as I moved to take the computer from him. He held it up over his head, far out of my reach, as a sad look of betrayal spread across his face. “I think this is pretty self-explanatory, don’t you?” he said quietly. “You’ve spelled it all out pretty clearly.”

“That’s not what I meant!” I cried. “I was trying to trap him, not get back together with him! He’s a psycho, and I wanted to catch him so that I could get back to my life — our life!” “I’m not quite sure I see that here, Ava,” he said. “What I see is a woman who is still in love with her ex-boyfriend and who resents the guy her father hired to protect her.” “I only said that so he wouldn’t try and hurt you, Brian!” I frantically tried to convince him of my plan, but since I’d never breathed a word of it, he’d been caught unaware. I didn’t blame him for being angry, but I didn’t want him to believe that anything I’d written in that letter could possibly be true. “I love you, Brian! That’s the honest truth! I love you, not that jerk who abused me and made me feel worthless!” “Could have fooled me,” Brian said sadly. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re playing both sides and waiting to see who wins.” “Oh my God! You are so pigheaded!” I yelled. “Why can’t

you trust me? Why don’t you believe me?” I stopped yelling and began crying in frustration. He was choosing not to believe me, and there was no way I could convince him that I’d had a plan to try and trap Dominic. “Ava, I wish I could believe you, I really do,” he said. “But I can’t.”

PROTECTOR #6

“Brian!” I cried as he looked at the computer screen and then turned away. I was shocked that I’d blurted out how I really felt about him, but I was more concerned that he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to prove my plan, and I cursed myself for keeping it a secret from him to begin with. “This is just…” he trailed off as he set the computer down on the desk, grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, and headed toward the door. “Just what?” I yelled. “It’s nothing! I didn’t mean it! How can I prove to you that I was trying to help you? I wanted to lure Dominic in so you could trap him and call the police. You’ve got to believe me!” “It’s hard for me to know what to believe, Ava,” he said as he turned and looked at me. My heart ached at seeing the look

on his face, but I knew why he felt betrayed. I hadn’t been honest with him. “Brian, I wasn’t trying to lie to you,” I said softly. “I was honestly trying to help.” “Ava, can we just let this go for the moment?” he asked. “I need to go out and get some air and clear my head. We’ve been cooped up here for so long, I can’t think clearly anymore.” I nodded and looked at the floor. I was ashamed of what I’d done, but I also knew that I had the best of intentions and that I’d never wanted to hurt him. I felt confident that if he really thought about it, he’d realize that as well, and that we’d be able to work things out. “Okay, I get it,” I said. “I’ll be back in a half hour,” he said as he walked to the door. “Please don’t leave this room, and don’t answer the door. No matter who it is, okay?” “Fine, fine,” I agreed. “I’ll just stay holed up here like a

fugitive while you go out and paint the town.” “Ava…” he replied in a tone that let me know he wasn’t finding any of this funny at all. “I’m kidding,” I said as I held up my hands. “I’ll stay here and do my homework, and I won’t answer the door. I promise.” “Please, just do that,” he said. “For me?” “I will,” I said solemnly. “I promise.” He nodded as he grabbed his jacket and phone, then turned and headed toward the door. Just before he opened it, he turned and looked at me once more, and I saw it; the look. He gave me a look that let me know just how much was at stake in me following directions this time. I nodded slowly and bowed my head. ***** With one hand on the door knob, Brian opened his mouth to say something just as someone knocked on the door and called, “Room service!”

Brian looked out the peephole and confirmed that it was the guy who usually brought up our meals, and opened the door. As he turned the handle and the door flew open, the room server came flying into the room. He collided with Brian and knocked him against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him and send him to his knees. Brian quickly sprung back up as two masked men rushed into the room. One was short and square, and the other was tall and lanky. Brian swung at the short man, landing a punch in his stomach before the second man attacked. “What are you doing!?” I screamed as the two masked men attacked Brian. “Leave him alone!” The tall one rushed Brian, but quickly found himself on the ground as Brian swept his feet out from under him. The fat one regained his footing and tried to punch Brian in the face, but Brian ducked and the man missed, throwing him off balance and giving Brian a chance to land a brutal punch to the man’s kidney area and making him cry out in pain. The tall man pulled himself off the floor and landed a punch to Brian’s crotch,

causing him to crumple to the floor, and giving the tall one a chance to reach under Brian’s hoodie and grab his gun. Before Brian could fight back, the tall one held the gun to his partner and said, “Put him out of his misery.” “Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed hysterically as I ran toward them and began hitting the tall man who’d taken Brian’s gun. He turned and shoved me hard against the wall before spinning around and whipping Brian in the head with the pistol. I watched as Brian slumped to the ground and the fat masked man kicked him in the ribs. “Don’t hurt him!” I yelled. Then the tall one looked down at the frightened room server on the floor and threatened, “Stay down there and be quiet or you’re next. Got it?” The boy nodded and lay still. When I realized that they hadn’t come after me yet, I turned and ran toward the bedroom, but before I could reach the door, the second man quickly covered the distance between me,

wrapped an arm around my waist, and grabbed a fistful of my hair before he slapped his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming. “Shut the hell up,” he growled in my ear as he pulled my hair so hard I thought he was trying to yank it out of my scalp. “I don’t want to hear your useless whining, got it?” Wide-eyed, I nodded as best as I could without causing myself any more pain. Who are these guys and what do they want? I thought as I watched the first one quickly flip Brian over onto his stomach, pull his arms behind him, then wrap what looked like a length of rope around his wrists to secure them. There was something familiar about the way he moved, but I couldn’t place it. “Blindfold the kid,” the one tugging on my hair said to the other one as he dragged me over to the dining table and shoved me onto a chair before letting go of my hair, roughly yanking my arms behind me and securing my wrists with a length of rope. “Stupid bitch, you think you can get away from me?”

I inhaled sharply as I recognized Dominic’s voice, then exhaled slowly, hoping that he didn’t know that I’d recognized him. “You know it’s me,” he laughed as he pulled off the mask and stepped in front of me. “Don’t try to hide it, Ava. I know you better than you think.” I let out a terrified scream and began to cry. ***** Dominic watched me through narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide what to do with me next. “Shut up,” he ordered as he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked down hard. I sat stock still as he pulled back on my hair, forcing me to look up at him. He threw the mask aside and then leaned down so that his lips were inches from my ear and whispered, “Did you miss me, baby?” I swallowed the bile that rose in the back of my throat and tried to nod without speaking.

“No, tell me you missed me,” he demanded quietly. My stomach rolled as he spoke. “Tell me, beautiful Ava. Tell me how much you love me and how much you’ve missed me.” “I…I…love you, Dominic,” I sputtered. The words felt like poison in my mouth, and for a moment I was glad that Brian was unconscious so he wouldn’t have to hear me lie. “I’ve missed you so much.” “I don’t believe you,” he snapped as he let go of my hair and slapped me across the face. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, and when I didn’t look back up at him quickly enough, he reached under my chin and forced my head up to look at him. His eyes were cold and angry as he ordered, “Tell me you love me, and mean it.” “I love you! I love you! I love you, Dominic,” I tearfully chanted. “I’ve missed you so much. I made a mistake and I want to come back. Please?” “That’s better,” he smiled cruelly as he slowly scanned my body from top to bottom. I swallowed and fought to hide my

true feelings so that I wouldn’t vomit. But when he ran his fingers down my cheek, I shrank from his touch. He ignored my response and murmured, “See? Isn’t it better when you admit the truth and tell me how you feel?” “Mmm hmm,” I nodded as I felt the nausea rising again. I fought to keep myself from looking away as I held his gaze. In my peripheral vision I could see Dominic’s accomplice removing his mask, and my stomach sank when I realized that it was Cheese. The two of them together were my worst nightmare. “You know my friend Christopher, don’t you, darling?” Dominic said as he watched me. “I believe the two of you became acquainted during an unfortunate incident at the Fiji house, didn’t you?” I closed my eyes and tried to simply breathe, but Dominic was having none of it, and he yanked my hair so hard that I cried out. “Do not fucking ignore me, Ava!” he yelled. “I will not

have you ignoring me when I ask you a question!” “Yes, we met,” I replied. My scalp burned and I wondered if he’d actually pulled out my hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “When you answer me, I don’t have to resort to hurting you to get a response. Now, you wanted to talk with me about getting back together, did you? Tell me about what you want to do with me.” “I want…want us to…to get back together,” I stammered as I tried to respond quickly. My head hurt from the tight grip he had on my hair, and I was afraid that if I said the wrong thing, he’d order his henchman to hurt Brian. “Really?” he said in a skeptical tone that let me know he wasn’t buying what I was desperately trying to sell. “Somehow I don’t believe you, Ava. Why is that?” “Because I’m…I’m scared?” I whispered. “It could be,” he said. “But it could also be because you’re lying to me. Are you lying to me, Ava?”

“No! No, Dominic I’m not lying! I love you and I want to get back together with you,” I cried. “I want us to be a family again!” “Really? Now that’s quite a change of tune, Ava,” he said in a slimy tone that made my skin crawl. “A week ago, you were telling me that you never wanted to see me again. What’s changed in the seven short days between that conversation and now? Hmmm?” “I realized my mistake,” I said as I lowered my eyes to try and show him my shame. “I was wrong. I’ve spent the week with the bodyguard my father hired, and I realized how wrong I was, Dominic.” “You hear that, Cheese?” he laughed. “She’s telling me she’s sorry and that she wants to come back. What do you think about that?” “I think is total bullshit,” Cheese replied dryly. “She’s a cock tease and she has no idea what she wants.”

“I think you might be right, my friend,” Dominic replied as he turned to me with a cold look in his eyes. “But first, I want to hear what the little lady has to say for herself. So, speak, Ava.” I felt the panic rising as I sat looking up at him. I knew him well enough to know that he was fighting to maintain his impassive expression and casual tone. Underneath it all beat the heart of a true sadist, and questioning me was simply giving him time to coil up inside himself and prepare to strike. If I could figure out how he would strike, I might be able to avert disaster, but that would require me to lie like I’d never lied before, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. “What’s wrong, Ava?” Dominic whispered as he bent down in front of me, his face only inches away from mine. “Cat got your tongue? Perhaps I should do something to loosen it up.” “No, I was just remembering our summer trip to New York,” I said as I smiled softly. “Remember how we found that little park that had the lights embedded in the concrete and danced to the street music after dark?”

A look of confusion flitted across Dominic’s face before he returned to his marble mask. I smiled sweetly up at him as I continued, “You gave me that pretty silver necklace that I love so much. The one with the diamond perched on the edge of the half-moon because you always said you loved me to the moon and back, Dom,” I spoke softly and smiled again. “I…I…yeah, I remember,” he stammered a bit before regaining control. I was getting to him, and I knew that if I was going to take control of the situation, I was going to have to spin a memory powerful enough to turn me back into his ally. I searched my peripheral vision for Brian, but I couldn’t see what Cheese was doing with him, so I focused my full attention on Dominic and hoped that when Brian regained consciousness, he’d understand what I was doing and look for an opening. Given how upset he’d been with me before this, I wasn’t sure he would, and that scared me more than telling all the lies. “You loved me so much, Dom,” I whispered. “That trip was a dream trip, and I really thought you were going to propose

when we had dinner at Tavern on the Green. I was so disappointed that you didn’t. Why didn’t you?” “I…well…that’s none of your business, young lady,” he snapped. There was something underneath his anger, and I didn’t know what it was. “No, it’s all my business, baby,” I cooed. “Just tell me, it’s okay if you were scared and weren’t ready. I totally understand. Look at me? I got cold feet.” “It was…well…it was just not the right time,” he muttered as he looked over at Cheese. I followed his gaze and saw that Brian was laying facedown on the carpet with a river of red slowly snaking down the side of his face, forming a growing stain on the carpet. I was distressed, but I knew that I couldn’t show any interest in what was happening or Dominic would turn his focus on Brian. What might happen then was anyone’s guess, but I didn’t dare risk it. “I know you had your reasons,” I reassured him. “I just wanted to know if it was something I’d done. Was I good

enough for a proposal?” “You were fine, Ava,” Dominic said quietly. “In fact, you were more than fine. You were stunning that night. I remember it like it was yesterday.” I watched him slowly sink into his memory of the night he should have proposed. The reality of that night was that we’d fought at the hotel before dinner, and I’d said I didn’t want to go out to eat, but he’d gripped my arm so tightly that I couldn’t get away and then dragged me down to the hotel lobby, where he’d ordered the bellman to get us a cab. Once inside the cab, he’d turned and let loose with a torrent of abuse that had the cab driver giving me worried looks in the rearview mirror. I’d waved him off once we reached the restaurant, and we’d gone in and had a delicious, but tense, meal. It was nothing like the romantic fantasy I was weaving, but the only advantage I had over Dominic was that he lived in a fantasy world rather than in reality. “We were happy, weren’t we?” he mused.

“Oh, it was such a lovely night,” I fed the memory. “We had champagne on the dance floor and you whirled me around like I was Ginger Rogers to your Fred Astaire, Dom. It was magical.” “Yeah, I did a good job, didn’t I?” he asked. “The best,” I replied in a dreamy voice. “I felt like a princess.” “You are my princess, Ava,” he said softly. “I don’t understand why you would want to run away from all of the wonderful things I have given you.” “I don’t know, Dom,” I said sadly. “I think I just got confused. I got scared. It’s all such a big deal with my family, you know?” When I mentioned my family, Dominic’s face went blank and I knew I’d hit the wrong note. Dammit! “Yes, I know all too well how big a deal things are with your family,” he replied coldly. “They’re not me!” I cried. I had to turn this conversation

back around and quickly. “I’m not my parents! I love you! I want to be with you! I don’t care what they say or think, we’re meant to be together, Dom. You know that, don’t you?” He looked back down at me as if seeing me with fresh eyes, and smiled as he said, “Yes, I know you’re not them.” He walked over to where Brian lay, looked down at his unmoving body for a moment before he turned and faced me again. “But I also know that they raised you, and there’s no way for you to escape that fact, Ava. You are your parents’ daughter whether you like it or not, and you’re smart and resourceful.” “What do you mean?” I was absolutely confused. “What I mean is that you are adept at deception, my dear,” he chuckled. “Your father is the king of lies and deceit and you are the queen of the empire!” “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I cried. “I’ve never lied to you. Not once.” “Listen to her, Cheese!” he roared. “She lies to me about

lying to me! What a piece of work!” “Huh?” said Cheese looking back and forth between us, obviously confused. “She sounds sincere to me, dude.” “Good lord, Cheese, you’re such a sucker,” Dominic scolded. “No wonder no frat house wants you as a member. You’re an idiot.” “Hey!” Cheese protested. “I’m not an idiot!” Dominic rolled his eyes and turned his attention back toward me, and suddenly a glimmer of hope peeked through the curtain of darkness. I knew what I could do to turn the situation in my favor and get Brian and I out of there, but first I had to get Brian to regain consciousness, and then somehow get him to play along with my little game. “Dom, tell me how we’re going to get out of here, please?” I flirted and smiled at him. “I haven’t been alone with you in so long.” “No, you haven’t, have you?” he smiled as he reached out

and ran his fingers lightly down my cheek. “You must be so very lonely.” “You have no idea,” I said. “It’s been the longest time since anyone has even touched me.” “You mean you and the bodyguard didn’t get your groove on?” he asked with a surprised. “Who? Me and him?” I said incredulously. “What on earth are you thinking?” “Well, I figured that close quarters with a handsome, yet simple hunk might wear you down,” Dominic mused. “Um, have you forgotten that he was hired by my father?” I asked as I rolled my eyes as far back in my head as I could. I had to channel my inner teenager to get this one right. I’d been a child in an adult’s world my entire life and I wasn’t sure I had it in me, but for Brian’s sake and mine, I had to try. “True,” Dominic replied. “Daddy dearest would not like you mingling with the help one bit.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Brian’s fingers moving. The other two hadn’t seen it, and I was determined to make sure they didn’t notice him regaining consciousness. I shifted my focus and said, “Dom, let the room server go. He’s nothing. We don’t need him, do we?” Dominic looked over at the teenager lying facedown on the carpet with a blindfold covering his eyes as if he’d forgotten he was even there. “Hmmm,” he murmured. “You might be right, but I’m not taking any chances, my dear. I’ve got a plan, and I’m sticking to it.” “What kind of plan, Dom?” I asked eagerly. “Are we going somewhere?” “Oh, we most definitely are,” he smiled. “You and me, that is, after we take care of the problem.” “What problem?” I asked as my heart sunk into my stomach. I’d been lulled into a sense of false security because Dominic was calm, but the reality was that he was more dangerous when he wasn’t actively angry.

“Well, you see, my dear,” he smiled. “We can’t have the nosy bodyguard reporting back to your father and screwing everything up, now can we?” “No, we most definitely cannot have that happen,” I said as I forced a smile and stole a peek at Brian. He was still out cold, and I was starting to sweat. Wake up, wake up, wake up. “Good, I’m glad we agree.” Dominic smiled in a reptilian way as he moved across the room to Cheese and said, “Get him up off the floor and into that chair.” “How, dude?” Cheese asked genuinely confused. “I don’t care how you do it, just do it,” Dominic intoned. “And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me dude?” “Sorry, du—Dom,” Cheese replied as he bent down and slid his arms under Brian’s armpits and hoisted him up off the floor. As he lifted, Brian’s head dropped forward. I kept hoping for a miracle; that Brian would wake up and take on our captors and

free us from this nightmare. But he only groaned a little as Cheese propped him up in the chair and secured him to the back of it using another length of rope. I watched him as he tied it and realized that he had no idea how to tie knots. If I could get Brian conscious, there was still hope. “What are you going to do, baby?” I asked sweetly. Dominic walked around behind Brian, rested his hands on his shoulders, and said with a smile, “He will no longer be an issue, pretty girl. You will be mine and he will cease to be.” My stomach turned as I heard Dominic discuss his horrible plan to ensure that we would have a beautiful future. He would make sure he got what he wanted even if he had to kill Brian in the process, and my brain spun as I tried to figure out a way to talk him out of his disgusting plan. “Dom, do you think that’s the best idea?” I asked sweetly. “I mean, he’s really kind of a nobody, and if you off him then he becomes somebody, right?”

“Ava, Ava, Ava, you’re so very naive. Sweet, but naive,” he chuckled. “You see, if I off this jarhead, then I will also make sure that no one knows I’ve done it. He will simply disappear into nothingness and no one will know what happened to him, so he will still be a nobody. Do you see, my darling? I’ve got it all planned out.” “Oh, okay!” I said as brightly as I could and smiled a big, fake smile. “Well, if you’ve got it all planned out then I guess it’s done, right?” “Yes, except for one thing,” Dominic smiled. I didn’t like that smile, it was the one he always used on me when he was about to punish me for some imagined infraction and then blame me for the pain he was forced to cause me. “I need him to be conscious so that he understands that I’m making the choice to end him. I need him to look me in the eye as I lead him out of this world and into the next one.” I knew now that Dominic had gone completely mad. Up to this moment I wondered if it was just grief and ego that drove

him to try and reclaim me, but now I knew for certain that he had descended into madness and that he really was going to kill Brian. I quickly worked to come up with an alternate plan that might give us a little time. If I could buy us time, Brian might be able to figure out a way to break free and disarm Dominic and Cheese. Cheese. Shoot. I’d forgotten about him and the fact that he was now holding Brian’s gun. “Wake him up,” Dominic ordered Cheese. “I want him awake. Now.” “But du- Dom, I don’t know how to bring a guy out of unconsciousness,” Cheese protested. “Throw some water on him! Slap his face! Yell in his ear!” Dominic shouted. “Why do I always have to do everything around here?” “Fine, fine,” Cheese grumbled as he went into the bathroom, filled a glass with cold water, then walked back out and dumped it on Brian’s head.

“Are you a complete idiot?” Dominic yelled as he began to pace the room. “You have to throw it in his face! He’s not going to come to if you drip it on the top of his head!” “I’m not an idiot!” Cheese protested. “How in the hell am I supposed to know how to do this?” I stole a glance at Brian as Dominic insulted Cheese and restlessly paced the room. Brian seemed to be breathing alright, but I couldn’t figure out why he was still out cold. The knock to his head hadn’t been that hard, and he was someone who had been trained to take a lot of abuse before his body gave out. Something wasn’t adding up. And then I thought I saw him move. Or did I? I thought I saw the tiniest movement of Brian’s finger, but I wasn’t sure. Had he moved? Or was it simply my imagination playing tricks on me? It was agonizing to think that we were all going to die in this room, and I knew it was up to me to divert attention from Brian just in case he was conscious. And if he wasn’t, well, I’d think of that later.

Dominic and Cheese were still fighting amongst themselves and as I looked over toward the door, I saw the poor room server still lying facedown on the floor. I’d forgotten about him. “Dom, baby?” I called in the sweetest voice I could muster. “Don’t you think that it would be wise to let the poor little room server go? He doesn’t have anything to do with this and he’s scared out of his mind. I think he might have even wet his pants.” “Jeez, what a baby!” Cheese laughed. “Pissed his pants like a little baby!” I had hoped that the room server would be smart enough to pick up on my cue and actually wet his pants, and by the sound of Cheese’s reaction, I’d played my cards right. “Shut up, Cheese,” Dominic ordered. “That little baby is going to go out with the meathead here. I want you to take care of him. Do you understand me?” “Wait, what?” Cheese looked at Dominic with a frown.

“Hey, I didn’t sign on for hurting anyone. You told me it was just going to be getting the girl back and then leaving.” “Well, sometimes things don’t go as planned, now do they?” Dominic smiled. “And you have to adjust your plan to fit the circumstances.” “Dude, there is no way in hell I’m killing anyone!” Cheese declared. Dominic looked at him for a moment, then turned and walked over to me. “Ah yes, the big, bad frat boy turns pussy,” he laughed as he began to loosen my ties. “I had a feeling this was what would happen, so I made sure that I had a backup plan. Always have a backup plan, Christopher.” “Hey, wait a minute,” Cheese protested. “Seriously, you did not tell me that there was going to be real killing involved. I don’t want any part of that, Dominic.” “Then if you will not participate,” Dominic said in a low, sinister tone. “You have become part of my problem, as well.”

He quickly untied my hands, pulled me to my feet, and then turned and punched Cheese so hard that he fell to the floor. Out cold. In an instant, Dominic was behind Brian with the gun pointed at his head as he smiled at me. “I know you have a soft heart, Kitten,” he said. “But you’re here to do some work for me before I finish up the show with a bang. Get it? A bang?” His maniacal laughter filled the room, and I stood trembling as I looked at the gun pressed against Brian’s temple. Now that Cheese was out cold on the floor, I knew that getting him to turn on Dominic wasn’t going to happen, but I didn’t know if Brian would regain consciousness or if he could escape the restraints if he did. I felt my heart sinking as I realized that saving us was entirely on my shoulders at the moment, and that I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. “Ava, listen to me,” Dominic murmured softly. “We are going to dispose of all of these problems, and then you and I are going to go out for dinner and discuss our future.” “Yes,” I said in a weak voice as I nodded. “Okay, we’ll take

care of the problems and then have dinner.” “Good girl,” he said smiling. “You are always so appealing when you say yes to me.” I stood rooted to the spot where he’d left me as I scanned the room. He wanted to kill three people and then go to dinner? It was a sure sign that he’d gone completely off the deep end, and I knew that I was our only hope, but I had no idea how to stop his evil plan. What did I have that he wanted? What could I offer that would keep him from killing Brian and the other two? Suddenly it came to me, and I knew exactly what I had to do. I only hoped that Brian would forgive me once we were free. “Dom?” I asked quietly. “Yes, Kitten?” he replied in a distracted voice as he scanned the room for the tools he’d need for properly disposing of the bodies. “What do you want?” “You,” I said with a giggle as I dropped my skirt and lifted the hem of my T-shirt. “It’s been so long!”

Dominic turned and looked at me as I continued my striptease, and I smiled seductively as I nodded towards the bedroom and begged, “Just a quickie? Please? Please, Dom?” “Ava, you’re going to have to wait for that,” he lectured. “This is neither the time nor the place.” “But I’m so incredibly horny!” I cried as I undid the hooks on my bra and slipped the straps off my shoulders. “It’s been ages!” “I thought lover boy here was keeping you busy,” Dominic said in a bored tone. “Him? Oh no, he isn’t someone I could have sex with! He’s the help!” I laughed and silently begged for Brian’s forgiveness. “This is true,” Dominic chuckled. “You were definitely raised better than that!” “So? Please?” I begged as the bile rose in my throat. “You know how I love it when you take me hard and fast.” “Oh, do I,” he flashed the sinister smile and I could see that

he was thinking about moving into the bedroom with me. “You like it rough, don’t you, Kitten?” “You know just how I like it, Dom,” I whispered as I fought to keep from screaming. The thought of his hands on my body made me want to vomit, but I knew that the only way we were going to get out of this was if I distracted Dominic well enough to take control of the situation. “Please? Just a little? Now?” Dominic quickly scanned the room and saw that the three problems were neutralized at the moment, and he smiled that awful, evil smile as he walked over to me. I was nearly naked and trembling, but he read my fear as desire and wrapped an arm around my waist as he walked me backwards toward the bed. In his other hand he held Brian’s gun, and I knew that I would have to find a way to make him put it down or else I’d be forced to go through with this awful act. “Dom, I need you touch me,” I whispered into his ear as he held me against his chest. “I like it when you hold me down and touch me, you remember, don’t you?”

“Mmmmm,” he murmured. “Indeed I do. You like it when you have no control, don’t you, Kitten?” “Oh, yes,” I breathed into his ear. “Oh yes, you remember!” “Lie down,” he ordered in that soft, sinister voice. “I want to see you spread out before me. I want to know that I own you, all of you.” I swallowed hard, nodded, and lay down on the bed on my back, trying hard not to expose the depth of my hatred as I looked up at him. I tried to recall Brian standing over me and the way his eyes shined when he saw me naked for the first time. I tried to remember the feeling of his hands on my body as Dominic lightly trailed his fingers down my torso. There was nothing sexy about this, but I was determined not to let Dominic hurt Brian - no matter what it took. “You always liked it when I stroked your skin,” he purred. “Oh yes, I love the way your fingers feel,” I sighed. I couldn’t close my eyes or look away because I was scared that

he’d sense how much I hated him if I did. More than that, I was afraid that if I didn’t focus on him, my mind would realize what I was actually doing, and my body would rebel. I whispered, “Hold me, Dom? Please? I haven’t felt your arms around me in so long, and I’ve missed them.” Dominic ignored my plea and continued caressing my skin. There was something about his touch that frightened me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the past or the present. Either way, my mind was spinning as I watched him. Please wake up, Brian. Please. Please. Please. Dominic lay down next to me and continued stroking my skin as he slid his other arm under my neck. He still had the gun in his hand, but at least it wasn’t aimed at anyone. He looked down at me as he raised his free hand and brushed the hair away from my face. “You really should make an attempt to keep your hair out of your face, Kitten,” he scolded. “Your face is too pretty to be hidden.”

I nodded and forced a smile as I said, “I will do that from now on, Dom. I promise.” “Ava, don’t you wonder why I went to all the trouble to get you back?” he asked in a tone that made my blood run cold in my veins. I knew that he had a plan, I just didn’t know what that plan was or why he was doing what he was doing. “I thought it was because you loved me and you wanted me back,” I replied as innocently as possible. “Oh my goodness,” he laughed as he grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed so tightly that I gasped. “Aren’t you absolutely darling! Naive, but darling.” “Then why are you doing this, Dom?” I asked in a trembling voice. “Because you humiliated me and I want that rectified,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You left me and you told lies about me and everyone thinks I’m a monster, and now I’m going to prove that I’m not only not a monster, but that you and I were

actually meant to be together.” There was no way to hide the terror in my eyes now. He saw it and it made him stronger. The only possible way out now was to fight, and I was well aware that this choice might end badly for me—and the others—but it was my only choice left. “What…what do you want me to do?” I asked. “You and I are going to take care of these problems together, and then we are going to go tell our story to the police,” he explained. “Your father hired a crazy bodyguard who held you hostage and abused you. I tried to rescue you from him, but he’d brainwashed you and convinced you that I was the enemy based on false evidence and lies.” I stared at Dominic, wondering what had to happen in a person’s brain to make them believe the lies they told. He was living in a fantasy world of his own making and he had no intention of recognizing reality. All I could do was nod and listen to his grand plan for us.

“It took me a long time to track you down because he was very adept at hiding, but when I received a cryptic email from you inviting me to come talk, I knew you were trying to let me know your whereabouts. I came to the hotel, enlisted the help of the room server, and broke in just as Brian was about to allow Cheese to have his way with you.” “What on earth?” I was truly perplexed by this. “You thought I didn’t know?” he smiled. “Cheese got kicked out of the Fijis because of your little friend’s antics at the party. He wanted to get even with you for that humiliation and to have a little fun while he was at it, so your bodyguard agreed to give him what he wanted in exchange for a little cash.” “You are twisted,” I couldn’t hide my disgust any longer and it seemed useless to even try. Dominic had planned everything and wasn’t going to deviate from his plan. Now all I could do was fight back. “Ah, the kitten has claws!” he laughed as he forced his hand between my legs and grabbed my crotch so hard I screamed. “I

knew they’d show themselves sooner or later. You’re no shrinking violet, baby.” “Get your hands off of me!” I yelled in his face. “You are not allowed to do this!” “Allowed? Oh no, no, no, my dear,” he grinned. “I don’t need to be allowed to do anything. I’m going to take whatever I want and you will have no choice but to let me.” “You have always been a sick, sick man,” I spit as I twisted to try and escape. In an instant, Dominic had the gun pressed to my temple as he gripped my arm so hard I swore I could feel the bones beginning to crack. “I’m not sick,” he growled. “I’m perfectly normal, I’m just angry at you for embarrassing me the way you did last year. I treated you like a princess, and you treated me like dirt.” “Because you beat me,” I said in a flat voice. “You beat me until I couldn’t move. You are sick.” “I beat you because you asked for it,” Dominic said in a

casual tone. “You know you did. You misbehaved and I punished you. There was nothing wrong with what I did. In fact, you liked it.” “I what?” I gasped. “I never liked anything you did to me. You beat me so badly I couldn’t leave the house for days at a time. Have you forgotten that?” “Oh no, I’ve not forgotten anything at all,” Dominic grinned. “I’ve got it all on tape and I watch it whenever I’m in the mood for you.” This revelation knocked the wind out of me. He had my beatings on tape and he watched them for entertainment. What kind of monster was he? And then another thought struck me; he has the beatings on tape. Evidence. All I had to do was escape and I could tell the police about the tapes, and they would put Dominic away for good. But first I had to escape. “You’re so disgusting,” I said calmly. “Do your parents know that they’ve raised an absolute monster? If they don’t, they’re going to be sick when they find out.”

“You bitch,” he spat. I’d hit a raw nerve and I knew it. “You really shouldn’t be talking about parents who are disappointed, now should you?” “My parents aren’t disappointed in me,” I said truthfully. “They just don’t care what I do. Unlike your parents who care about everything you do and every move you make. Man, this is going to suck when it comes out that you’re a woman-beater and a murderer. I’d be surprised if they didn’t totally disown you.” The sting of Dominic’s hand hitting my face surprised me only a little. It was the way my neck snapped to the side that shocked me. He’d hit me many times before, but he’d never hit me this hard or with this much rage. For a moment I was frightened that he would unload the gun in my head, but then I remembered how much he enjoyed watching me suffer and knew that he’d be far more likely to kill the others and make me watch. Dominic’s sickness was ego and attention, and when I was forced to pay attention, his ego swelled. I had a good idea of what was coming next, so I closed my eyes and came as close to

praying as I ever have in my life. Just let us live. Just let us live. Just let us live. I didn’t ask for any favors, just the gift of life, and hoped that someone up there would hear me. The next thing I felt was Dominic yanking me up off of the bed and dragging me by my hair to the front room. The others were conscious now, but since they were tied up, they were also helpless. I bowed my head as Dominic pointed the gun at the room server and said, “Tell him you’re sorry, Ava. Tell him that it’s all your fault that he’s going to take a bullet to the brain. Tell him that you feel terrible about it, but that you appreciate his sacrifice so that you can live.” I looked down into the terrified eyes of the teenager and held my breath. I opened my mouth and found myself pitching forward toward the floor. I landed on top of the terrified room server who let out a loud “Oof!” “What the hell!” I yelled as I felt someone land on top of me, forcing an “Oof!” out of both me and the poor room server

on the bottom of the pile. “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” said Dominic as he pressed the barrel of the gun to my head. “Are you going to attack me, Mr. SEAL, or are you going to let me get up?” “Get up, you coward,” Brian growled as he backed away from the pile. Dominic slowly lifted himself off of me as he kept the gun aimed at my head. He then yanked me off of the frightened teenager and pulled me against him so that my back was pressed against his chest and I could see Brian’s face. I could feel the cold metal of the gun against my temple, and I smiled weakly at Brian so that he wouldn’t know how scared I was. He looked right through me as he fixed his gaze on Dominic and the gun. “You see, SEAL, I win. I get the girl. You lose,” Dominic proclaimed. “You are nothing more than a hired hand.” “Oh, you have no idea what I am, you arrogant prick,” Brian shot back as he watched Dominic closely. “But the one

thing I’m not is you, thank goodness. Who would want to be such a pathetic loser?” “You’re good at what you do, but you’re not going to get me worked up,” Dominic chuckled. “You see, I win. I will always win. I have money and money makes everything work. You don’t have money, so you are nobody. You can’t have girls like this because you have nothing.” “Is that what you think? That I want your girl?” Brian laughed loudly as he began circling us, forcing Dominic to turn on the spot where we were standing in order to follow him. “That’s just ridiculous. Why would I want used goods?” His words pierced my heart and I wondered, Is that what he thinks of me? I was trembling as Dominic spun in place. The gun was hard and cold against my head, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I realized that one wrong move and he’d fire a bullet right into my brain. I wouldn’t stand a chance. My eyes searched wildly for Brian, but he was on the move and was keeping us moving, too.

“Used goods? Is that all you think of her? My, my, my, that’s not very complimentary, is it, Kitten?” Dominic looked at me as he asked the question. “How do you feel about being called used goods?” “I’m not used goods,” I whispered. “What did you say? You need to speak a little louder, dear,” Dominic ordered. “We can’t hear you.” “I’m not used goods,” I said more clearly. “Well, I believe the SEAL here thinks you are,” Dominic reminded me. Brian continued moving, his attention focused on Dominic, but I could see that he was holding something in his right hand. I couldn’t tell what it was, though. Dominic pressed the gun against my head harder and more insistently. “I think maybe he might be right. Maybe you are used goods, and you know how much I hate it when something that is mine has been used.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and the tears began sliding

down my cheeks. I had done everything I could to try and save all of us, and now I was going to be the first one to die. Dominic was going to win, again. I’d done everything I could to escape from him, and he was going to have the last word here in this hotel room with Brian watching. I closed my eyes and willed myself to breathe deeply. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to fight it. I would stay calm. Seconds later I heard Brian yell, “Duck, Ava!” and without thinking I pulled away just as Brian flew across the room and grabbed Dominic’s arm. He let go of me and turned the gun on Brian. I heard myself screaming as the gun went off and the sound rendered me deaf for a moment. Was I shot? I didn’t feel like anything hurt, and it didn’t look like I was bleeding. I looked up and saw Brian punch Dominic in the face as he swore a blue streak. Dominic punched back wildly, but only landed one to every four of Brian’s. Where is the gun? I couldn’t see it in Dominic’s hand. I frantically searched the room with my eyes and finally located it

on the floor just under the sofa. Dominic had dropped it when he’d fired a round, and Brian must have kicked it out of the way. I scrambled across the floor and grabbed it from its hiding place as Dominic landed a vicious punch, and I heard the crunching of bone against bone as his fist connected with Brian’s cheek. I winced as I lifted the gun and pointed it at Dominic. His earlier punishment had left my arm an aching mass of bruises, but I held the gun up as I stood and yelled, “Dominic, stop! Now!” He turned and looked at me holding the arm that was holding the gun and then burst out laughing. His laughter struck a nerve, and I nearly pulled the trigger. I would have, too, had it not been for the fact that this gave Brian the opportunity to connect one very brutal punch to Dominic’s ribs. I watched Dominic crumple to the ground holding his side as he writhed in pain, then looked up at Brian and held out the gun. Brian quickly crossed the room and took the weapon from me and tucked it back inside the holster under his hoodie before

moving back over to where Dominic lay crying in pain, and gave him a swift kick in the ass for good measure. Wide-eyed, I looked up at him. “Hey, he tried to kill both of us,” he shrugged as he pulled out his phone and quickly punched the 911 key. He told the operator where we were and what had transpired then hung up the phone, tucked it in his pocket, and moved over to help me off the floor saying, “I think we should get some clothes on you, don’t you think?” The rush of adrenaline had made me completely forget that all I was wearing was a pair of panties. I shivered as Brian wrapped an arm around my waist and walked me back to the bedroom, where he retrieved my clothes and helped me pull my T-shirt over my badly bruised torso. I left my bra on the floor, knowing that to try and put it on would be more pain than I could handle. After he’d helped me dress, he walked me back out to the living room and sat me on the couch. “Just stay there, okay?” he advised as he moved around the

room and untied the room server and Cheese. He brought the frightened teenager to the couch and sat him down next to me. Cheese was still groggy on the floor, so Brian went into the bathroom, ran some cold water over a washcloth, and brought it out to put on Cheese’s face. Dominic lay silent on the floor until Brian nudged him with the toe of his sneaker, then he groaned in pain and tried to roll over. “I’m going to kill you, SEAL,” he muttered as he tried to get up off of the floor. The pain in his ribs made him cry out and sink back down to the floor. “Yeah, promises, promises,” Brian replied as he pushed Dominic’s face into the carpet a little harder than necessary. I looked away. I understood why Brian was doing what he was doing, but I still didn’t want to see it. Despite everything that had happened, I felt sorry for Dominic. He was a sad, sick man, and he was going to pay the price for his desire to get revenge, but I also knew he was a broken boy who never felt like he’d been loved. I shook my

head and looked at the poor little room server who’d gotten caught in the middle of all of this and thought he was going to be killed. I put a bruised arm around his shoulders and reassured him that it was all going to be okay. Brian looked at me from across the room, and then looked away. ***** Five minutes later, the police pounded on the door, and when we opened it, they came streaming in like they had prepared to storm the entire hotel, and it occurred to me that maybe they had. The first thing they did was bring in the EMTs and have them check us all out. Dominic was put on a stretcher while we were all questioned, but they didn’t roll him out. Brian gave a detailed account of what had happened, and I was shocked to hear him telling the officers about what I had done to try and divert Dominic’s attention so that he could free himself. He’d been conscious the entire time. I felt the shame rising in my chest as I realized he’d heard me say some really

terrible things about him as I’d tried to figure out how to save us all. I looked over at him, but he was deep in conversation with the officers, so I shifted my attention back to the room server who’d been obviously traumatized. I told the medics what had happened to him and how he’d stayed remarkably calm for someone so young. They took turns reassuring him that he would be okay, and then slowly led him out of the room to the waiting ambulance. Other EMTs had collected Cheese and quickly driven him to the hospital. It sounded like they feared that he had a concussion from the blow to the head, and they wanted to get a CT scan to make sure he wasn’t bleeding into his brain. I told the police what had happened with Cheese and that while he was certainly responsible for his actions, he had not signed on for the kind of action that Dominic had decided on once they’d gotten in the room. I didn’t want to absolve Cheese of any responsibility, but I also didn’t want him taking the fall for Dominic’s evil plot to kill us all. The officers took my

statement, and then finished up with Brian before they signaled to the EMTs that they could move Dominic out of the room. “I’m not done with you, Kitten,” Dominic ranted as the EMTs wheeled him toward the door. “I’m going to find you and hunt you down! You will be sorry that you ever messed with me when I find you!” I shot a frightened look in Brian’s direction, and he moved in next to me and put his arm around my waist as he softly said, “They will never let him out of prison again. Don’t worry, Ava. It’s a done deal. You’re safe.” I gave him a grim smile as I watched them wheel Dominic away from the room, and then turned to the officer in charge and said, “He has evidence of all the horrible things he did to me.” “What do you mean?” asked the officer. “He was my boyfriend, but he beat me badly and I finally left,” I replied. “Today he said he has videos of the beatings that he would watch when he missed me….” I trailed off as the tears

started to flow. Brian turned and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest and stroking my hair as I cried. “Do you know where he keeps them?” the officer asked. I shook my head against Brian’s chest, not wanting to have to think about where Dominic might keep such awful mementos of his abuse. For the hundredth time since this all started, I wondered how I could have possibly ended up here. Is this all my fault? “Ava, none of this is your fault,” Brian whispered as if reading my thoughts. “Dominic is a sick individual, and you had nothing to do with that sickness. You were a victim of it as much as the rest of us.” “But I couldn’t stop him,” I sobbed. “None of us could, alone,” Brian soothed. “It took all of us to stop that level of sickness. You can’t blame yourself.” I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. Brian held me as the officers finished up their preliminary work and told him that

we’d need to come down to the station to file reports and give statements the next day. Brian took the officer’s card and assured him that we would be there the next morning. As soon as the police had closed the door behind them, Brian quickly grabbed our bags, threw our things in them, and hustled me out to the car. He didn’t explain and I didn’t ask, but we both knew that staying in the hotel was no longer an option or a necessity. Once on the road, I knew exactly where we were headed, and I smiled when Brian pulled up outside of the dorm. He carried the bags up to my room and then said, “Get comfortable, I’m going to go pick up dinner.” “Don’t leave!” I cried, afraid that if he left something terrible would happen. “Can’t they deliver it?” “Ava, please don’t worry,” he smiled as he pulled me into his arms and held me close. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Not now.”

I smiled as I hugged him tightly, then whispered, “But don’t leave, okay?” “Fine, you win,” he said as he stepped back and looked at me, smiling. “I’ll call and have it all delivered. Although, after today, I’d have guessed that you’d be a little more wary of people delivering food to your door.” “Don’t joke about it!” I laughed as I swatted him lightly. “Just get it here soon, I’m starving!” Brian smiled as he pulled out his phone and called in the order, then he turned and pulled me back into his arms and we stood holding each other for a long time. ***** When the food arrived, the knock on the door startled us both. We’d been standing in the middle of the room with our arms around each other, appreciating the silence and the feel of our bodies pressed together. I could smell Brian’s cologne, and mixed with my perfume and our sweat, and nothing had ever

smelled better—except maybe the pizza Brian had ordered. We dug into the huge pizza and ate with gusto. It felt like a whole other lifetime since we’d eaten, and maybe it had been. We were the same people that we’d been that morning, and yet, totally different now. I looked at Brian as I slurped up the cheese that stretched between the dough and my mouth and wondered what he was planning to do now that he didn’t have to watch over me anymore. I wondered when my father would call and relieve him of his duties. I wondered if I’d ever see him again after tonight. Brian smiled at me with a mouth full of cheese and pepperoni, and said, “I’m here to stay, Ava.” “How did you know?” I asked with wide eyes. “I don’t know, I can just hear what you’re thinking when you want to ask me something,” he shrugged. “You can read my thoughts?” I blurted out. “No, not like I can read your mind,” he laughed. “I can just

tell when you’re thinking something that you want to ask me and you are afraid to put the question into words.” “I’m not sure I like that,” I said darkly. After all the fear and hiding I’d had to do with Dominic, I wasn’t sure if I wanted a man in my life who thought he could read my thoughts. I wasn’t sure if that was a safe thing. “I promise that I’ll always use my powers for good,” he swore as he raised his right hand and looked straight into my eyes. “Alright, then…” I said, not quite convinced, but appreciative of the gesture. “So, what are you going to do next?” “I have no idea,” he laughed. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” “Will you be leaving?” I asked hesitantly. “Do you want me to stay?” he replied. I looked at him and wondered if I did. Did I want him to stay with me? What would that mean? What would he do? We couldn’t live here in my

dorm room, but was I ready to move in with him? The questions came tumbling one after another. “Ava, I’m not asking if you want to marry me or even move in with me, I’m simply asking if you’d like it if I stayed.” “I think I would,” I whispered softly as I looked down at my plate. “I would like that very much.” “Then it’s settled, I’m staying,” he announced. I smiled and took another bite of my pizza, and chewed slowly as I looked over at the handsome man sitting next to me. The one who had saved my life and was now willing to stay in a small college town to be near me. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “For what?” he asked as he tipped his head and gave me a confused look. “For the email I sent and not telling you what I was doing, and…” I trailed off, embarrassed and unsure of how to say what I wanted to say. “And for saying all of those things about you

when I was trying to distract Dominic while I was hoping that you’d wake up. I know you heard me, and…I’m sorry.” “Oh, Ava,” Brian smiled as he put down his plate and turned toward me. He raised his hand and stroked my cheek gently as he spoke, “I didn’t believe a word of what you were saying. I knew you were trying to do whatever you could to save us all. Besides, I’ve heard far worse things said about myself and in situations that were far less stressful! No apologies necessary.” “Oh good, I felt awful saying those things,” I explained. “But I had no idea what else to do to give you time to wake up and to keep Dominic from killing us all.” “I heard what he said to you,” Brian said with a serious look on his face. “Are you okay?” “Who me? I’m fine!” I laughed uneasily. “I’m just fine…” “Ava, it’s okay not to be fine,” he said gently as he opened his arms and waited for me to find my way into them. I looked

up at him as tears began to well up, and then sunk into his embrace. “I was so scared,” I whispered into his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my whole life.” “I know, me either,” he confided. “I was terrified of what he was going to do to you and the others, and that I wouldn’t be able to stop him.” I nodded and buried my face in his chest as he gently rubbed my back, and as he did, the gravity of the day sunk in, and I began to cry. “Shhh, shhh,” Brian soothed as he stroked my hair and held me close. “It’s all going to be okay. I’m not going to leave you.” “But what happens when my father lets you go?” I sobbed. “You won’t be able to stay here with me!” At that moment, Brian’s phone rang, and he let go with one arm to answer the call. He listened for a while and then said, “Yes, sir. No, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. I will, sir. Thank you, sir,” and

hung up. “Well, that just answered your question,” he smiled. “That was your father, and he’s decided that I should stay on as your personal bodyguard until the end of school year. The police commissioner called him and told him what happened, and he decided it was better to be safe than sorry. He’s also decided to move you out of the dorm into an apartment where I can keep a better eye on you. The movers will be here tomorrow to pack you up and move your things. I’m to oversee the move.” I stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You and my father have conspired against me!” “No, I swear I had no idea what he was going to do!” Brian said as he held up his hands in a defensive gesture. I considered him for a moment. On one hand, I resented the idea that my father was, again, going to dictate where I lived and what I did, but on the other hand, I was going to get to have Brian in my life on a permanent basis. I wasn’t sure if I should be mad at the two of them or grateful for my good fortune. As I

looked at Brian, thought about all we’d been through in such a short time and how safe I felt with him, I opted for grateful. “Well, if the movers are coming tomorrow, then this is our last night here,” I smiled as I gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. “Indeed it is,” he replied as he smiled back at me. “What do you say we do something to commemorate it?” “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Flynn,” I murmured as he leaned in. He softly brushed his lips across mine as he reached out to pull me to him. He stopped and we both laughed when we realized that I was still holding a piece of half-eaten pizza. I set it down and melted into his arms as we kissed. Brian wrapped his arms tightly around me and pulled me against his chest as I cupped his face with my hands and felt the prickly stubble that had sprung up on his cheeks. His lips tasted warm and salty, and I giggled a little when he pulled back and whispered, “Mmmm, you taste like pizza!”

For a long time we sat on the couch kissing as our hands roamed over each other’s clothed bodies, but as our desire grew stronger, this wasn’t enough. Abruptly, Brian pulled away and stood up, and I couldn’t hide my disappointment when I realized he was stopping the action, so I looked away. Seconds later, I let out a small scream as Brian bent over and scooped me up in his arms. “You didn’t think I was going to leave you here, did you?” he smiled as I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure,” I whispered. “And I didn’t want to be disappointed.” “Ava, look at me,” he said seriously. I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I’m going to do everything in my power to never, ever disappoint you. Not ever.” In response, I nodded and planted a soft kiss on his lips. He lowered me onto the bed and then stood back as he slowly

removed his T-shirt and undid his jeans, letting them fall to the floor. I sat up and started tugging on my shirt, but he pushed my hands away and said, “No, let me do it.” His hands were gentle as he pushed my shirt up my torso and then pulled it over my head, and I saw him wince as his eyes scanned the bruises that Dominic had left. “Do they hurt?” he asked as he ran his fingers over the marks that mottled my skin. “Not yet. That’ll come tomorrow,” I replied, knowing that the worst would be the next morning, when I would feel the full impact of the blows. He leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips across the worst of the bruises as he gently pulled my skirt down and dropped it on the floor. He quickly added my panties to the growing pile of discarded clothing as he lay down next to me. His hands roamed my naked body as we slowly kissed, and I could feel his hardness pressed against my thigh. My body responded to his touch as if it were the most natural thing in the

world, and before long, I felt him spreading my thighs and slipping his fingers into my wetness. I gasped as he slowly slid them up and down, lightly stroking my clit, and then dragging them down to tease me a little before sliding back up again. In retaliation, I reached out and ran my hand across the tip of his cock, coating it in the pre-cum that covered it. Then I wrapped my hand around his girth and began stroking it slowly. Now it was his turn to gasp. I smiled as I whispered, “Two can play that game, Mr. SEAL.” “Can they, now?” Brian laughed as he pushed two fingers up into my tight, wet pussy and heard me inhale sharply. We lay there watching each other as our hands got lost in the playground of our bodies. Suddenly, Brian withdrew his fingers, wrapped his arms around me, and rolled over on his back, pulling me on top of him so that I was forced to let go of my hold on his cock. He quickly positioned me so that the tip of it was pressing up against my wet opening, and then kissed me deeply as he slowly

slid inside me. I felt like I was melting as his cock filled my pussy, and I moaned softly into his lips as he pushed the entire length inside. He stopped and waited, letting me feel the fullness before he began slowly pulling back out and leaving just the tip of his swollen member inside me. I kissed him harder as I tried to make him push back up, but he held his ground and waited. “Oh Brian, please?” I begged. “Please! Please!” “Please what,” he said through gritted teeth as he kept me from slamming myself down onto him. “Please! I need it!” I cried as I wriggled in his grasp. “What do you need, Ava? Tell me,” he urged. “I need it! I need your cock! Please!” I begged more desperately. “God, take me! Now!” Hearing those words spurred him to action, and Brian slammed his hips up against mine as he buried his cock inside me. I cried out as I felt him enter me fast and hard, and then

began pushing against him as we tried to find a rhythm that would match the desire we felt. He thrust up again and again and I met him more than halfway as I tried to drive him deeper and deeper inside of me. I wrapped my arms around him, and as I slammed down, I heard him groan. We’d found our rhythm, and frantically rode it until both of us were on the edge of an intense orgasm. Brian had somehow worked his hand between our two bodies, and was firmly stroking my clit in a way that made my pussy pulse around his cock. I’d never felt anything like it, and I briefly wondered if I would pass out when I came. The thought left my mind as quickly as it had arrived, and suddenly, I was hurtling over the edge of a cliff as I moaned his name. The orgasm shook my body, and I felt him join me as we both flew into the abyss together. Many minutes later I heard Brian whisper something in my ear, but my pulse was still pounding in my brain and I couldn’t hear him. I lifted my head and lightly kissed his lips before I

gave him a questioning look. “I’m so sorry, Ava,” he whispered as he bent forward and pressed his forehead to my chest. “I’m so, so sorry.” “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I reassured him. “This isn’t your fault.” “It is my fault,” he said. “I was supposed to protect you and keep you safe and I failed.” “No, you didn’t,” I objected. “There was no way for you to have known what Dominic was doing!” “I tried to keep tabs on him at all times,” Brian admitted. “All those texts were from a couple of the frat brothers I’d had following him and Cheese. I tried to keep him under surveillance, but we lost him.” “So that explains the obsessive texting all the time!” I laughed. “I thought it was a new girlfriend.” “A new girlfriend?” he said with a smile as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tightly against him. “Why would

I want a new girlfriend when I’ve got all I ever wanted right here in my arms?” “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Click here to continue to my next book. Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

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SEXY TATTOOIST By Claire Adams This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams

Chapter One Graham “A rose.” The girl gestured vaguely to her tanned, freckled cleavage, of which there was plenty. “Right here.” I tried not to roll my eyes, which was generally a frowned upon reaction when a customer was telling you what they wanted you to tattoo on their body. “Okay,” I nodded, and tried to arrange my features into an expression that suggested I thought getting a rose tattooed on her cleavage wasn’t a completely overdone and tired idea. Not that someone like her would care—I could tell her mind was made up about it, regardless of what anyone said. “A red one with thorns,” she said after a moment. “You know, so it’s like symbolic of who I am … I have a hard exterior, but inside I’m like—” “I know exactly what you mean.” It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon, but still way too early in the day for this kind of talk. “Give me a minute and let me sketch something up for you.” “Great. I’m so excited to see how this will turn out.” She grinned, lines creasing the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t so much a girl as a woman who was still trying to be a girl, with her tight tank top and short shorts. She probably dedicated a considerable amount of time to working out, and it wouldn’t be long before she delved into the world of plastic surgery, if she hadn’t yet already. “You come highly recommended, you know,” she said, widening her eyes at me. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. You tattooed my best friend, Stephanie. She got a … like a flower or something,

half a flower, really. No, it was a lotus. I don’t totally remember, but it was here,” she gestured to her inner forearm, right below the wrist, “and you did it this special way, I forget what it’s called? Jab? Stab? No, not stab—” “Stick and poke,” I said. “Or hand poked.” That nasal, high-pitched voice of hers was starting to shred my eardrums. “That’s it! It was so beautiful. I might get something like that next time, but I’ve always wanted a rose, so I’m going with that first. But I really do like the idea of the stick and poke tattoos. It’s like, going back to the basics or something. That’s why Stephanie said she wanted one.” My thighs were covered with the rudimentary stick and poke tattoos I’d been giving myself since I was a preteen, sitting in my small, shitty bedroom, my stepfather, Wade, taking up all the space in our small, shitty living room, watching TV in a haze of cigarette smoke, surrounded by crushed PBR cans. I used a sewing needle, a chopstick, and some Bic ink and decorated my legs with all the things I wanted to say to Wade but couldn’t: Fuck off & die, Eat a dick, You are a cunt. Oh, I’d said a few things to him before, but that had always resulted in black eyes, broken ribs, a few concussions. The worst of it was when I was 10 and he hit me in the face with a two-by-four. It didn’t knock me out, but it left a spectacularly jagged scar right along my jawline, which I’ve since erased by growing a beard. The last fucking thing I wanted was a daily reminder of Wade’s existence every time I looked in the mirror. It only took me a few minutes to sketch the rose exactly to this particular customer’s liking—so she said—and then she sat in the chair and I got to work. She kept up a steady stream of chatter that was easy enough to nod mindlessly to while tuning out at the same time. I felt a building sense of discontent, some sort of strange malaise, even though I knew how little sense that made. On Point Tattoo—my very own shop—was doing better

than I ever could have imagined, and showing no signs of plateauing any time soon. I’d been doing so well, in fact, that eight months ago, I’d hired a second artist, an art school dropout named Helena with an uncanny ability to recreate, from memory, pretty much anything she saw in exacting, photographic detail. She was better than I was, though that wasn’t something I was willing to admit out loud. At least not yet. She probably knew it, but she hadn’t brought it up, and she didn’t seem like she was one of those people that needed to prove something about themselves. Besides, it would be good for business, which was what I told my buddy Todd when he started giving me shit about it. “When I think of On Point, I think of you, Graham,” he’d said. “Not Helena. Which, by the way, is way too an exotic of a name for someone with as plain a face as she has.” It was true: Helena was a plain Jane with spaghetti legs and no tits to speak of. She had brown hair she wore in a no-nonsense braid and had a penchant for wearing baggy skater shorts and white tank tops that only accentuated the fact that she was flat-chested. I guessed she was a lesbian, but we didn’t talk about our sex lives. But this discontentedness, I’d say that started not long after Helena started working for me, though I didn’t think the two were related. No, it had more to do with the fact that I’d broken things off with Danielle, and that Danielle also happened to be a bit mentally unbalanced. That’s putting it nicely. She turned out to be a complete psycho. Not a dangerous one, but I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that her pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage were actually figments of her imagination. There was also the fact that we’d both discussed, at length, the fact that neither of us was really interested in being in a relationship and would prefer to keep things casual. At some point, she’d changed her mind, though she hadn’t bothered to let me know it. Other than that, though, there was absolutely no reason for me to be feeling anything but satisfaction with the way things were working out in my life so far—successful

business, fulfilling work, as much sex as I wanted. Women like tattoo artists, and women like beards. Even the women that you might peg as too straight-laced to get an actual tattoo themselves. There were a couple weeks this past winter—before Danielle—when I slept with a different woman every night for two weeks straight, culminating in a face slap when I accidentally called Hattie (Night 14) “Katie” (Night 2). “Oh, wow, that looks great.” I’d finished with the rose and my customer was beaming down appreciatively at her cleavage. The skin was red and puffy around the outline of the rose, but it’d come out as good as you could expect something like that to look. As I taped a gauze pad to her, I gave her the spiel about the “dos” and “don’ts” of caring for her new tattoo. “I’m going to tell all my friends about you,” she said. “I hope you’re ready for an onslaught of business.” She reached out and touched my arm, letting her fingers linger there just a few seconds too long. Long enough for me to know I could suggest we take a detour to the back room and she’d be on her back in two seconds flat. But … no. I didn’t find her that attractive, and there was some part of me that had begun to suspect my feelings of ill ease were stemming from all the sleeping around I’d been doing. I hadn’t really investigated these feelings any further, mostly because I wasn’t the sort to sit around analyzing my moods and shit, but it was getting a bit harder to ignore. It was like an annoying, yappy dog, or a mosquito that kept buzzing by your ear: you’d try to ignore it, tune it out, but it was right there, demanding that you pay attention. I didn’t want to have to think about any of that, though, and I’d put it off for as long as I could, the hope being that eventually the feeling would just disappear. Things were good right now—as good as I could really expect them to be—and I planned to do whatever I could to make sure it stayed that way.

***** I was just adding some black power lines to one of my regular customer’s latest—an elongated koi fish devouring its own tail—when Todd showed up. He gave me a mock salute when he saw I was with a customer and sat down in one of the lounge chairs up front to wait for me to finish. “You up for a ride tomorrow?” he asked once we were alone in the shop. “I’m thinking 20, 25 miles.” “Sure,” I said, though it hadn’t been on my agenda. Todd and I were somewhat unlikely pals, at least looks-wise: he was your typical, clean-cut jock, a category 1 mountain bike racer. Maybe more surprisingly, I was also a cat 1 mountain bike racer, though I wasn’t affiliated with any club and I sure as shit didn’t wear a spandex kit. I ran flat pedals and a rode an all-mountain, full-suspension bike, which pissed off a lot of the cross-country racers who actually took the racing circuit seriously. Todd, though, found it more amusing than anything else, and for that reason, we hung out and went riding together fairly often. “Cool. Oh, and if you’re not working tomorrow night, Amanda said she wanted to hang out. I’m supposed to forward her number to you.” Todd gave me an expectant look when I didn’t reply. “Amanda? Remember? Tall, blonde chick? Legs for days? Those tits that look fake but aren’t?” I stifled a laugh. “Wait—you’re trying to hook me up with a girl you’ve already been with?” “Who says I’ve been with her?” “Uh … you just did, if you’re telling me her tits look fake but aren’t.” “We’ve never hooked up, though not because I haven’t tried. I just know I’m not her

type. She likes the bearded tattooed guys. Know anyone who fits that description?” “So, how do you know her tits are real?” “I can just tell. But if you want … you can verify it for me.” He pulled his phone out of pocket. “Here, let me send you her number.” I didn’t say anything as he started tapping on the screen. I’d let him send me the number, but I probably wouldn’t call her, amazing tits or not. “She’ll be expecting a call from you,” he said. “You told her this? You want to be my personal assistant or something?” He grinned. “I’m far too busy to be anyone’s personal assistant. But I’m always happy to help a bro get laid.” “I don’t actually need any help in that area.” “I know. But I figured after all the shit with Danielle, you at least deserved to sleep with someone who wasn’t a total head case.” The thing was, I’d already slept with a few girls since Danielle. The sex itself had been great, but the other stuff … not so much. One of them had a boyfriend, who somehow found out and had come down to the shop ready to fight, but once he got sight of me, he’d quickly changed his mind. The other girl had a 4-year-old son, and while I certainly didn’t have anything against kids, I sure as hell didn’t want to be the stepfather she was so obviously looking for. And the third girl had just been whiny and clingy and completely insecure, in spite of having supermodel looks. I wouldn’t be able to properly explain it to Todd—and we didn’t talk about that shit really, anyway—but I wasn’t going to call Amanda, because I wanted a breather from all the bullshit. This was why, I suspected, that people got divorced after 35 years of marriage: at some point, you just got fed up with all the shit that some people brought to

the table. I’d never been in a long-term relationship, but even the most casual of relationships could still come with strings attached. So, what if, just for this summer, I took a break from all that? It’s not like I wouldn’t have plenty to do, with it being the shop’s busy season and the height of the mountain bike racing season. It would be like one of those 30-day challenges that people are always posting about on Facebook—except instead of having firmer abs or being able to do a plank for two minutes, by the end of the summer, I might have some sort of peace of mind, which, after all the shit I’d been through, didn’t sound too bad at all.

Chapter Two Chloe I swear, Tara had some sort of psychic abilities or something. She had texted me a few days ago about when I planned to get to my parents’ summer house, and I’d written back something sort of noncommittal: Not sure, still have some packing to do and other stuff to take care of. I’ll text you when I get there. This wasn’t a lie; I had to clean out my studio and then go back to my apartment and tidy up a little bit there, too. Freshman year of college, I thought that I could do the Airbnb thing—rent out my little Back Bay apartment to travelers, maybe to people on a budget or something, with Boston prices being so expensive—but my dad vetoed the idea the second he caught wind of it. “You have no idea the sorts of people that might be living there,” he’d said, giving me one of his stern looks that still had the ability to make my throat go dry. “We’re not a charity, Chloe.” What could I say to that? He was the one footing the bill for the apartment, so there wasn’t much arguing I could do. He and my mother already didn’t approve of me majoring in art; where was the money in that? That’s what they both wanted to know— neither of them saying, of course, that only the really talented or really lucky people ever made good money in art. Neither of which they thought I was, though they didn’t come out and say it. But anyway. Tara. I had planned to give her a call a few days after I arrived on Cape

Cod, to give myself a little bit of quiet time, because anyone who’d ever met her knew that Tara was anything but quiet. I figured I’d check out a few art galleries, treat myself to a latte and a new book, and spend a few mornings at the beach, zoning out to the sounds of the waves and the seagulls. I’d only just pulled into the gravel driveway when my phone went off. It was Tara. I let it go to voicemail, only to get a text message a few seconds later: Call me the second you arrive! And just like that: instantaneous guilt. There was no reason for it, but I was already feeling bad for not calling her back. I turned the key in the ignition and sat there for a moment. Tara was just one of those people who was really good at getting what she wanted. She lived in New York, but our fathers had been playing golf together for about as long as we’d been alive. Her parents had a summer house a quarter mile from ours, and Tara and I had, by default, spent our summers growing up together. If I didn’t call Tara back now, she’d probably end up driving by and seeing my car, or, she’d keep calling/texting. I sighed and picked up the phone. So much for a few days of quiet. “Chloe!” she exclaimed. “Are you here?” “Just got in,” I said. I got out of the car and went around to the trunk to get my suitcase. I could at least start unpacking while we talked. “I’ve got impeccable timing!” I could practically hear her grin. “Yeah, you do—I mean, I literally just pulled in.” “Well, that’s perfect. That means you haven’t made any plans for tonight, right? Don’t let your mom talk you into going to that wine tasting tonight. My mom already tried to convince me that it would be exactly how I wanted to spend my Friday night, but honestly,

that’s the last thing I feel like doing. And you’re 21 now! We can actually go to a bar or something.” I’d turned 21 back in April, but I still hadn’t been to a bar. Pathetic, I know, but I’d been so busy with school that there just hadn’t been any time. And I knew Tara would be dragging me out to all the bars and clubs she could this summer—she’d had a fake ID since she was 18 and knew all the best places to go. “What did you have in mind?” I walked up to the side entrance and went inside. My parents’ summer house was the sort of place you’d expect to see in some sort of luxury magazine, and I’d always felt like something of an imposter when I was here, despite the fact that I’d been coming here most of my life. The house was spacious and airy, with big windows looking out onto Oyster Harbors. My mother didn’t work, but she did have an eye for interior decorating, and liked to say that if she were to ever enter the workforce, she’d be a design consultant. In the meantime, though, she was more than satisfied to tastefully furnish the summer home here and their apartment in New York. “What did I have in mind?” Tara repeated. “Well, quite a lot, actually!” “We do have the whole summer ahead of us—we don’t have to cram everything into one night,” I said, already feeling tired. She was one of those people who just seemed to have an endless supply of energy. “I know we don’t have to do everything in one night, but we need our first night to be something spectacular, just to set the tone. Okay? And you better believe I’m going to get laid—I saw on Facebook Michael is still in Paris with that bitch, apparently still having the time of their lives. I need to meet a guy who’s even hotter than Michael and post a shitload of pictures so he can see that I’m completely over him and have moved on to better things.”

“Michael was an ass,” I said. “And you’re better off without him. And why are you Facebook-stalking him, anyway?” I’d never been so relieved to hear that someone had been broken up with as I was when Tara called to tell me Michael had dumped her. He’d spent part of the summer with her last year, and there was something incredibly unsettling about him, despite his refined manners and fashion model looks. He was the sort of guy my own parents hoped I’d end up with—a fact that they’d brought up endlessly last summer. “I’m not stalking him,” Tara said, a hint of indignation in her voice. “The photos popped up on my feed and I checked them out. She’s hot, but not that hot. Anyway. You know how competitive Michael is; I just need to find someone better-looking than him and sleep with him and that’ll be that.” She sounded infinitely optimistic, like it would be no trouble at all. Actually, for her, it probably wouldn’t be. “Enough about him. You and I are going out tomorrow night. Don’t make any other plans. We’re going to properly celebrate your 21st.” “I’ve been 21 for months now.” “I know that, but I bet you didn’t even go out to a bar. Am I right?” I sighed. “You are.” “So, I’ll come get you around 7, okay? We’ll do dinner and then drinks and then go clubbing or something. Wear something cute. This is going to be the best summer ever; I just know it! See ya!” She hung up before I could respond, or remind her that I didn’t own anything that she’d categorize as “cute” for a night out on the town. There was a note on the marble countertop in the kitchen, in my mom’s flowery cursive: At the yacht club. Your father’s golfing. Will be back later this afternoon. Alicia made some snacks that are in the fridge. Xo, Mom I crumpled the note up and tossed it into the trash. No doubt the snacks that Alicia

made were something totally decadent and delicious, but I’d always felt weird eating food that had been prepared for me. It sounded strange, considering that my parents had employed someone to cook our meals for most of my life, but if I were to open the fridge and start eating whatever snacks Alicia had made, I’d feel overwhelming guilt because— wasn’t I more than capable of preparing my own snack? I left the kitchen without eating anything, though, and went up the stairs and down the long hallway to my bedroom. Tara liked to give me a hard time about feeling guilty over having wealthy parents and a privileged upbringing, but it was something that had bothered me for a long time. But I also knew enough not to talk about it, because no one wanted to hear that sort of thing, and people would just sort of roll their eyes and think, Oh, poor little rich girl, which was exactly the sort of sentiment that I was trying to avoid. And it wasn’t as though I felt guilty enough about it to take a vow of poverty or not accept my father’s offer to finance my apartment and tuition for college. In a way, I guess I was a hypocrite, and that was maybe worse than being from a wealthy family. Tara made no apologies for it, spent her parents’ money freely, and enjoyed every bit of being from the upper class. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that wished I could just be like that, too. I left my suitcase at the foot of the bed and looked around my bedroom, which hadn’t changed much since I was a kid. The few decorations that adorned the eggshell-white walls had been chosen by my mother because they’d been timeless (so she said, and neither of us had changed them as I’d grown up). In a way, being in this room felt as though I were stuck in some sort of time capsule that 10-year-old me might have put together. There was the desk in the corner that I rarely sat at, and a four-poster bed with a canopy and a handmade quilt purchased from an artisan crafter at the county fair. The room could’ve been featured in Cape Cod Magazine or something; it was tasteful and pretty, but anonymous in that it lent no clues about the person who inhabited it.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror above the dresser. I thought about what Tara had said on the phone: This is going to be the best summer ever! She said that every year, and I knew, if you asked her, every summer was the best summer ever—that is, until next summer rolled around. For me though, summers had basically amounted to hanging out with Tara, hanging out with my parents, and wondering just what it was that I was going to do with my life. Tara didn’t share that concern; so long as her parents had money, she knew exactly what she was going to do with her life: whatever she wanted. At the end of last summer, we parted ways, me heading back to art school, her back to New York, but only for a little while before it was on to an extended vacation in Europe and then a winter out at her parents’ ski lodge in Vail. And if she got sick of Vail, she could just ask her parents and they’d buy her a ticket wherever she wanted to go. Last year it had been Ibiza; this year she’d already mentioned the possibility of Thailand. But maybe Tara was right; maybe I could make this the best summer ever, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what that would mean. I’d spent my whole life being the good girl, (mostly) doing exactly what my parents wanted—I deserved to have a little fun, too, didn’t I? The girl looking back at me in the mirror was wearing a pair of old cut-offs and a white T-shirt splattered with old paint. I squinted, trying to see myself as someone else other than the same old person I was used to, but I couldn’t. It was just me. Same old me that it had always been. “Even if you just do one thing you wouldn’t normally do,” I said out loud, “that will be something.” I felt a little foolish talking to myself out loud like that. That’s what crazy people did: ladies with wild hair and outlandish clothes and 30 cats waiting for them back in their apartment. But still. There was something comforting about hearing the words out loud,

even if I was just saying them for my own benefit. And even though I had no idea what that one thing I wouldn’t normally do might be, it seemed like a good goal.

Chapter Three Graham Saturday morning was one of those nice, early summer days—warm but not humid, no annoying, biting insects, a refreshing breeze every once in a while. I met Todd down at the conservation area we rode at most often. He showed up in full kit, and of course he couldn’t resist giving me shit about my baggy shorts and T-shirt. “You heading to the skate park after this?” he asked. He wouldn’t be running his mouth so much once we got out on the trail, though. For unknown reasons, I was particularly adept at this style of bike riding, despite not doing any training for it or even using the “correct” equipment. It was fun, I didn’t have to wear Spandex, and I liked the rush it gave me to be careening through the woods, sometimes at 20-plus miles per hour. There was also a point when you had pushed yourself as far as you might have thought you could physically, when your mind would just sort of turn into this blank slate and your body would take over. That exhaustion you felt would completely disappear, and you’d be able to go harder and faster than you would’ve thought possible. It was a sort of magic, really, and just the possibility of obtaining the feeling was enough to get me back on the bike again and again. But I also rode because it kept me out of trouble. We turned onto a fire road, which was wide enough for us to ride next to each other. Todd slowed until I’d caught up and we were side by side. “So, did you call Amanda?” he asked.

“Dude! You just gave me her number last night. No, I didn’t call her.” I reached down and pulled my water bottle out of the cage and took a big sip. “I’m actually not going to, either.” Todd gave me a hurt look. “Why the hell not? She’s hot. You’d be a fool not to. She’s way hotter than Danielle. What’s gotten into you, lately? Are you having some sort of weird, quarter-life crisis or something?” “What the fuck is a ‘quarter-life crisis’?” “It’s exactly what it sounds like, except it’s also total bullshit because no one should be having any sorts of crises when they’re in their mid-20s, because that’s the prime of your fucking life! So get out there and get laid, dammit!” “You know, I appreciate your concern and everything, but I’ve actually been thinking about it—” “That’s your first mistake—this isn’t something you’re supposed to psychoanalyze. If you think about it too much, you’re going to start getting all introspective and shit, and the next thing you know, you’re going to be writing poetry or fronting some awful emo-core band. Where’s your phone? Call her right now. Hell, if you won’t, I’ll call her and set it up. Do you see what I’m willing to do for you? I’ve got a date tonight, too, actually—this chick Melanie. And am I over here, analyzing every detail about it? Fuck no. Because if I started to do that shit, it would ruin it. It just would. So, I suggest you stop it, too, and just call Amanda.” He wasn’t going to lay off, I could tell, so I responded by pedaling faster. We were side by side, until I started to pull ahead, which Todd responded to by pedaling fast himself. We had about half a mile to go before we reached the turn off for the singletrack, and I usually let Todd set the pace, but I knew if I pushed it right now, I could beat him there. Also, he’d have to exert himself so much he’d be forced to stop talking, so I shifted

into a higher gear and let loose. “Fucker,” I heard Todd grunt as I pulled away. “Goddammit, Graham, you know I don’t like riding like this when we’ve got a race coming up.” ***** When Todd and I were done with the ride, I was famished, so I took myself out to eat, because the last thing I ever felt like doing after a long ride was cooking some elaborate meal. The place I liked to go was called Laura’s. It was a little breakfast and lunch joint that was open year-round, but mostly overtaken by the tourists during the summer. The locals stayed away until after Labor Day, but I still went there after every ride. It was also right across the street from Ocean View Realty, which was where all the rich people went to get secure their summer rentals. The proprietor of Ocean View was Craig Oliver, father of yours truly. Though I didn’t know if he even knew that; I myself didn’t find out until freshman year of high school. Up until that point, I’d always assumed my father had died. I sensed that it just wasn’t a topic to bring up with my mother, and she let me believe he was dead. I wasn’t sure what changed the day she told me he was actually alive and well and prospering right here in town. Seeing as he’d never been a part of my life, it seemed silly to think that he’d want to start now. I wondered why my mother didn’t go after him for child support, as she was constantly in need of money, no matter how many “loans” I made to her, fully knowing she would never be able to pay me back. If anything, my father was probably relieved she never tried to get him on the hook for helping her raise this son of his—it would be easy to be embarrassed by my mother, especially if you were a successful businessman like he was. Still, it didn’t stop me from being curious about him, though I hadn’t approached him and honestly didn’t have any clue if he even knew I existed.

I was just draining the last drops of orange juice from my glass when my phone started to vibrate. I looked at the screen and sighed. It wouldn’t be a Saturday morning without a call from my mother, who, no doubt, was going through some sort of diabolical, personal emergency. I picked up the phone, if only because she’d keep calling incessantly until I did. “Hi, Mom.” “Graham! Thank God you picked up. Are you busy? You won’t believe what happened to me last night—I was just leaving … well, never mind where I was just leaving, that doesn’t matter … I went to get into my car and it wouldn’t start. It just wouldn’t start. And I hadn’t left the lights on or anything like that. So, now my car’s just sitting there. I had to hitchhike home last night.” “Why didn’t you call Wade?” “I tried, but he didn’t answer. He’s been so tired lately, he’s been working double shifts because that asshole boss of his fired Kenny and refuses to hire anyone else—” “Okay, okay,” I said. “I don’t actually need the whole story. So what do you want me to do? I can drive down there in a little bit and give you a jump if you want. But you’re going to have to tell me where the car is.” I already knew where the car was, but there was always a miniscule part of me that was hoping she might say it was somewhere respectable—say, the grocery store or the laundromat. “It’s … it’s at The Finery.” She sounded like a petulant child. “And I don’t need you to give me any shit about it, okay? I’ve got to make money, too, you know. We’ve all got bills to pay. I’m just like anybody else, trying to make ends meet.” Don’t let the name fool you—The Finery was about as seedy a place you could get, a strip club masquerading as a tavern/gentleman’s club. My mother had worked there my entire life (and was probably where she met my father), though now that she was in her

mid-40s, had been demoted to waitress. “What happened to applying for the job at town hall?” I said. “The one that Lauren told you about.” My mother laughed. “Oh, I checked out the application. It was about five pages long. Wanted to know all this personal stuff. Which is fine by me—I’ve got nothing to hide— but then it was also asking about past experience and everything. And trust me, Graham, I know some of the women that work in the town hall, and they don’t want to hear anything about the past experiences that I’ve had. It just wasn’t the right fit for me. You can understand that, can’t you? It’d be like me trying to make you work somewhere that you just didn’t fit in. You would hate it. How is business going, anyway?” “It’s fine. Listen, I’m not at the house right now, but I’m going to head back there in about half an hour. I’ll get my truck and then I’ll come pick you up and we’ll go jump your car. I don’t know why no one offered to give you a jump last night—oh wait, no, I do; everyone was probably way too wasted.” The patrons of The Finery were less than stellar characters, and I wasn’t looking forward to going over there, even though the worst of them wouldn’t be out until much later this evening. “You’re the best,” my mother said. “What would I do without you? I’ll see you soon.” “Bye,” I said. I had just put the phone down when I saw my father step out of the office building across the street. He was wearing cream-colored shorts and boating shoes and one of those salmon pink golf shirts that seemed to be all the rage with the affluent folks. A woman stepped out behind him, and they stood there for a moment, talking. She was wearing an all-white tennis outfit: white sneakers, white skirt, sleeveless white shirt, white visor. Was that his wife? Girlfriend? Or someone that was just securing a summer rental from him? I was too far away to be able to hear their conversation, though their body language didn’t suggest a romantic relationship.

I had to fight off the urge to run over there and introduce myself. It wouldn’t go well —I knew that much, which was why I hadn’t done it yet, and probably never would. And even now, at 26 years old, I still found myself wondering how my completely fucked up childhood might’ve been different if my father had been around. ***** My mother and Wade still lived in the same shitty duplex that I’d grown up in. There wasn’t a driveway so much as a gravel parking lot, and their unit was in the back, behind the first two. The paint was peeling; there were empty beer cans littering the sparse front lawn, along with an assortment of forgotten children’s toys. The whole place was depressing as fuck, and I had to bite back the urge to flee immediately. Luckily, my mother came out, saving me from having to go in and possibly interact with Wade. We’d come to an uneasy truce over the years, mainly due to the fact that I was now an adult who could hit him back. My mother was wearing her usual attire, consisting of a too-tight tank top and short shorts. It was pointless to suggest she wear something a little more modest, so I said nothing. I didn’t feel like getting into an argument with her over what constituted “modest attire.” She hopped up into the passenger seat of the truck and I took off out of there about as fast as I could. “So, anything new going on with you?” she asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.” “I saw you last week, Mom.” “Was it? Well, it was only for a few minutes. Business is going good?” “Yeah, it is.” “Do you have a girlfriend? I’m looking forward to being a grandma, you know, even

though everyone says I’m way too young to be one!” She laughed as though this were the best compliment ever. “No, Mom, I don’t have a girlfriend and don’t hold your breath about the grandkids. You know I don’t want to have kids.” “Don’t say things like that!” she said. “You might very well change your mind once you meet the right person.” “I’m taking a break from the dating game at the moment, if you must know.” She frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “It means that you need to stop giving me shit about these phantom grandkids you think you’re gonna get. It also means stop asking me if I have a girlfriend, because I don’t.” “I wouldn’t be one of those pain in the ass mother-in-laws, you know,” she said, deliberately ignoring my last statement. I tried to choke back my laughter. “Right.” “I mean it! I wouldn’t be all uptight about shit. I wouldn’t be giving my daughter-inlaw a hard time about what type of diapers she was using on my grandbaby or whether she should formula feed or not.” It occurred to me just then that my mother had clearly spent some time thinking about this. Was she off her fucking rocker? Clearly, yes. “You can be as uptight as you want about it, because it’s not going to happen.” “Oh, I don’t believe you for a second. It’s summer—it’s the best time of the year. People falling in love every single day. I bet you’re going to meet someone this summer and it’s just going to be the best thing ever.”

“I’m not sure what part of ‘I’m taking a break from dating anyone’ you don’t understand.” She let out a laugh, which sounded more like a maniacal cackle. I wondered how many cups of coffee she’d already had today. “There’s no way you’re going to go the entire summer and just be by yourself,” she said. “That’s a good one, though.” “It’s not a joke.” “That’s like Wade saying he’s going to go a night without a PBR.” “Don’t compare me to that shitbag.” “I admire that you are even entertaining an idea like that to begin with, but it’s not going to happen. So, you might as well just let loose and have some fun.” “You know, I think I’m done with this conversation.” And I was, but at the same time, as irritating as she was, her doubting me simply made my resolve stronger. She’d be highly annoyed to find out, at the end of August, that I had managed to keep my word. It was somewhat of a relief when the parking lot to The Finery came into view, and right there, my mother’s white Toyota Camry. How that piece of shit was still running was beyond me, but I guess they weren’t lying when they said a Toyota engine will keep running long after the body rusts away—which appeared to be exactly the fate my mother’s car was heading for. The parking lot itself was mostly empty; there were two cars toward the back, probably belonging to one of the waitresses and the head bartender for the day shift. Hopefully they wouldn’t come out; I didn’t feel like dealing with any of my mother’s coworkers. “You really should get a new job,” I said as I stepped out of the truck. The parking lot

was strewn with crushed cigarette packs and other, various detritus. It looked like a barren wasteland. “Where? At some convenience store? A gas station? That’s about the only place that’ll hire someone like me.” “Why don’t you just get a regular job waitressing?” I pulled the jumper cables from the bed of the truck. “Go pop the hood on your car.” “I don’t get a ‘regular job waitressing,’ as you so put it, because I just don’t think I could stand to be in an environment like that.” “Like what? Like normal people taking their families out to dinner?” “Like … so wholesome. Yes, exactly that! I don’t want to be serving Suzy and her handsome husband and their beautiful children!” Okay. Clearly that had touched a nerve. “Look, Mom, I’m not trying to give you a hard time, okay? I’m really not. But I know the type of dirtbags that go to a place like this and I just think that after all these years, maybe a change would be good for you.” “You’re embarrassed by me, aren’t you?” She leaned against the side of my truck, her arms crossed, a glare on her face. “Just like your father was. That’s why he stayed away, you know. Because he couldn’t bear to think that the rest of the world might know he had actually gone to The Finery and fucked one of the dancers there. Not that there should be any shame in that, for Christ’s sake.” I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on getting her damn car started so I could get the hell out of there. The drama that I was trying to escape from this summer clearly wasn’t just related to the women I hooked up with. I was probably some sort of magnet for this sort of shit just because I’d grown up with a mother like this. But I couldn’t cut her off. I’d thought about it before; I’d considered just not answering my phone when she called, or

better yet, changing my number, but there was some part of me that knew I couldn’t do it. At this point, the tables had turned and I felt more like the parental figure in our relationship than she was, but really, it might’ve been like that all along. “Let’s just drop it, okay?” I said. I made sure both clamps were attached to the Camry’s battery, and then I went back over to my truck and started it. “Try to start your car,” I told her. It took two tries, but the Camry started. My mother got back out of the car and came over and stood in front of me. “You ever think about him? Your father?” “Not really,” I lied. “Me neither. Well, once in a while, maybe. Once in a while I might start thinking what it would be like if we had stayed together. I think that maybe you could’ve had a better upbringing, a different sort of life.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. When it came to my childhood, my mother was either overly sentimental about what could have been, or vehemently delusional about how she did the best she could. There was no in between. But I didn’t feel like consoling her about it. That wasn’t my job. “You should be good,” I said. “Drive the car around for a little bit, let the battery recharge, but I don’t think it’ll give you any more problems.” “You really are the best, sweetie; thank you. Now, I just have one more favor to ask: can I borrow 50 bucks? Just until I get paid next week. It would really help out if you had it.” I’d probably “lent” my mother thousands of dollars over the years; I didn’t keep track of that shit because I knew she’d never pay me back. “Fine,” I said. “You’re going to have to follow me to the ATM though; I don’t have

that much cash on me.” “You’re a good man,” she said. “Whichever lady you end up with is going to be damn lucky!” I started to say something in response, but then thought better of it. It might just be better to be a bachelor for life.

Chapter Four Chloe I let myself sleep in until 9:30 on Saturday, which was something I hadn’t done the entire school year. The house was again empty, another note on the counter from Mom saying that she and my father had gone out but would be back in a few hours and wanted to take me to lunch. I made myself some tea and then sat on the veranda and looked out at the ocean. It was late enough that if I ate something for breakfast, I wouldn’t be hungry for lunch, and my mother would inevitably start asking if I had an eating disorder. So, I ignored the rumbling in my stomach and sipped my tea. Then I went back up to my room and unpacked my clothes, realizing that I basically had nothing to wear out tonight with Tara. Nothing that she would consider worthy enough, anyway. The thing was, she liked when people looked at her, and she knew how to dress so she looked her best. Me, I mostly felt like an imposter when I dressed up, like everyone would somehow know that I felt more comfortable in jeans and a paint-spattered T-shirt than some fancy dress. It didn’t help that I couldn’t walk in high heels even if my life depended on it. I did have a cute, sleeveless, cotton dress, printed with pink and turquoise flowers. I took it out of my bag and hung it on a hanger so hopefully all the wrinkles would be out by the time I needed to wear it. ***** My parents took me out to L’Orange, which was my mother’s favorite bistro. It was downtown, right next to a little breakfast joint that had really good chocolate croissants. I could tell by the way my parents kept exchanging glances with each other that they had

something they wanted to talk to me about. I tried to ignore the uneasiness I felt. I already knew what I was going to order, but pretended to go through the menu. My mother wondered whether she should get the crab cakes or the lobster bisque for an appetizer. I racked my brain, trying to figure out just what it was they were planning to tell me. Our server came over, and I ordered a side Caesar salad and the chicken pot pie. My parents placed their orders, and once the server left, my father cleared his throat. “Chloe,” he said. “There’s something your mother and I would like to discuss with you.” I tried to force a smile, but it probably came out looking more like a grimace. “Okay,” I said. “I had a feeling there was something you wanted to talk about.” “Oh, darling, you make it sound so doom and gloom!” my mother exclaimed, placing her hand over mine. “It’s nothing like that at all.” But something didn’t ring quite true in her exuberant tone, and the glance she threw my father’s way as she said this only served to confirm that she didn’t entirely believe what she was saying. “Chloe,” Dad said. “There’s really no point in beating it around the bush. So I’m just going to come out and say it: your mother and I don’t think pursuing a career in art is the right move for you.” I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. So I just sat there while the seconds ticked by and didn’t say anything, while my parents exchanged glances with each other once more. “What your father’s trying to say …” my mother started. Finally, I found my voice. “But … I just finished my third year. I’m supposed to graduate next year! Why are you just telling me this now? And what exactly do you expect me to do?” I might have found my voice, but I sounded shrill. I sounded like maybe I was about to completely lose my shit or burst into tears, or maybe both. I took a

deep breath and willed myself to be calm. “Sweetie, we want what’s going to be best for you in the long run,” Dad said. “And we don’t think that a degree in art is that. We feel like you’ve got a lot of talents and you’re just … well … wasting them.” “I don’t understand what you want me to do, though,” I said. “I mean, it’s a little late in the game to be telling me this. I’m supposed to graduate next year. With an art degree that the two of you are apparently so certain will be useless.” “It’s not that we think it will be useless,” my mother said. “I just … we’re just not sure it’s going to present you with the sort of opportunities that you really deserve.” My mother baffled me sometimes. “But Mom, weren’t you just the one who called me last week, so excited because your friend Claudia was going to let me have a piece in her next show?” “What’s this?” my father said. “Oh, you know Claudia, Claudia Bennet, she’s got that little gallery.” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “I had talked with her about letting Chloe submit some work for the next show, and she agreed.” “I see.” Dad appeared to mull this over, deciding whether or not this new news was going to change the trajectory of their talk. “We’re not saying that you don’t have talent, Chloe, but we just don’t see a future for you in art.” I couldn’t look at either of them, so I stared across the street at the Ocean View Realty building. It was a former sea captain’s house, one of those restored, mid-19th century homes, with low ceilings and cramped, drafty rooms. I kept staring across the street, vaguely aware that my mother was saying something to me. As she talked, I went over the countless ways that I’d always done what I thought was

the right thing, the thing that my parents wanted. Had they ever had to fight with me to do my homework? To get up for school in the morning? To make my bed or keep my room picked up? Had I ever been one of those reckless, rebellious teenagers? Did I ever come home with dyed hair or break curfew? Had I ever lied to them, saying I was going to study at the library when really, I was going to hang out with a boy? No. No, no, no. No to all of that, and here they were, giving me a hard time when I was giving my all to art school. “You know what?” I said abruptly, interrupting my mother. “I’m actually not hungry. And I’m not going to sit here and be part of this conversation anymore, because it’s completely ridiculous. I have worked really hard to get where I am, and I’m not going to stop going the year before I’m supposed to graduate. And if you guys don’t approve, fine, you don’t have to. And if you want to stop paying for my apartment and stop paying for tuition, go right ahead—I will find some other way to make it work. I’m not just going to stop now because you’ve randomly decided that I should.” I stood up. “Where are you going?” my mother asked. “Chloe, please, sit down.” “Yes, listen to your mother.” Dad held his hands up. “Listen. We’re not saying you have to stop going. We get that you’re going to graduate next year, and we do know that in and of itself is an achievement of sorts. And maybe you even will be able to do something with that degree—who knows? All we’re saying is, we’d like you to think about exploring other options. It’s not going to hurt anything to explore your options, is it?” “Yeah, except I don’t even know what that means.” And I really didn’t, but I also didn’t want to hear them elaborate about it, either. I sat back down. “I’d rather we just didn’t even continue this talk, okay? I don’t see the point if you guys are still going to let me keep going. I have a whole year left, and I think it’d just be better not to think that you guys thought I was completely wasting my time.” My parents smiled but said nothing, and it was clear that that was exactly what they

thought I’d been doing this whole time. ***** I was actually more than happy to go out with Tara, because that meant I wouldn’t have to be at home, which felt pretty unbearable since my parents’ little chat with me about school. The first part of dinner I spent listening to Tara bitch about Michael. She got her phone out and scrolled through a bunch of pictures that I tried to pretend to be interested in seeing, though I really had no desire to ever see his face again. Still, even I had to admit it looked like he and whoever that girl was were having a good time. “Is she prettier than me?” Tara asked. She shoved the phone in my face. “I mean, this is who he left me for, so she better be.” “I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “She’s not unattractive, but I don’t think she’s prettier than you are.” I’d meant to be consoling, but Tara just got an even more perplexed look on her face. “If she’s not prettier than I am, then what the hell? Is she better in bed than me?” I held my hands up. “I am not qualified to answer that question. Maybe we should talk about something else.” I reached over and took a piece of bread from the bread basket. “He’s really not worth your energy, Tara.” “It’s not even that I want to get back with him, because I don’t—I just want him to know that I am completely unbothered by the fact that he left me for someone else. And to do that, I need to find someone hotter than he is.” She cast her gaze around the restaurant, which right now was mostly full of couples and a few families with children. “My prospects here don’t look that great, though.” She picked up her glass of white wine and drained it. “Anyway. I feel shitty enough about this as is; let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about how this summer is going to be the best summer of your life! Because you’re 21 and can now officially come with me to bars and clubs. Which we’re going to

tonight, by the way.” “So you’ve told me. I’m not planning to get drunk, though.” “Have you ever been drunk before?” I took a sip of my own wine, which tasted bitter and not very good. I tried not to make a face as I swallowed it. “I knew it.” Tara had a satisfied smile on her face. “You’re such a good girl. I mean, that’s one of the things I like about you, but it’s almost unbelievable. What 21-year-old has never been drunk before?” “I’m sure I’m not the only one,” I said. “And it’s not like I didn’t have the opportunity.” “Which almost makes it worse. I mean, next you’re going to tell me you’re still a virgin.” I felt my face flush a little. I was still a virgin. Tara’s eyes widened before I could say anything. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed, loud enough that the people seated nearest to us glanced over. “You are! Look at you—you’re blushing!” The heat rose even further on my face. I hated that I blushed so easily, but I hoped I could blame it on the few sips of wine I’d taken. “It’s just the wine,” I hissed. Tara raised a skeptical eyebrow at my still-full glass. “I’m not judging you if you are,” she said. “Well, I am.” I shrugged. “I just decided that it was something I didn’t want to do unless it was with someone that I was in a relationship with. You know, so it would actually mean something.” It sounded a little silly now, though, as I said it out loud, and I could tell that Tara

thought so, too. “See, I’ve always felt the opposite way,” she said. “I wanted to get some experience first, so when I finally met the right guy—who I thought was Michael—I’d know what I was doing. You know, so you’re not going into it completely clueless.” She took another sip of her wine and then put her elbows on the table and leaned toward me, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “I just had the best idea,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to hear this.” “No, you do. It’ll be great. This summer—we’re going to get you laid. We’re going to find you a guy to lose your virginity to. Maybe he’ll end up being the one—if so, great— but if not, you’ll now have some experience for when you actually do meet the one.” “I’m too busy to meet the one right now.” “It’s summer! Who’s busy in the summer?” “I mean, I’ve still got school. I’ve got an internship this summer, too. Well, an unofficial one.” Tara looked thoroughly unimpressed. “But why? Summer’s when you’re supposed to relax. No obligations. No responsibilities. What is this ‘internship?’” “My mom’s friends with one of the gallery owners downtown, and they agreed to include a piece of mine in their next show at the end of August.” I decided not to mention the previous conversation I’d had with my parents; I didn’t feel like getting into all that again. “Oh. So, you’ve got all summer, then.” “Yeah, but it needs to be good. I can’t just slap something together last minute.” “Painting?” “No, I’m going to do a sculpture. I feel bad enough about it as it is—my mother didn’t

really tell me that she was doing this until after she’d talked to Claudia about giving me a spot in the show. Which means that someone else isn’t going to have that spot.” “You’ve really got to let go of this guilt you’re always feeling. So, your mom used her connections to get you a spot in a gallery show. Use it to your advantage! Don’t waste all your energy feeling bad about it.” “I’m not going to, which is why I need to actually spend time working on it.” Tara nodded. “Okay, fair enough. But you’re not going to be spending all summer doing that. You’ll have time for other things, too. And I really think one of those things should be finding a guy to sleep with. You really don’t know what you’re missing out on.” I was almost wishing that the conversation would go back to Michael. I knew that most people my age had slept with at least one person, and had gotten drunk a few times, but neither of those things seemed that important when I was so busy with school. I didn’t want to be like so many other kids who just used college as four years to go out and party while their parents paid for their tuition and living expenses. Yeah, my dad was paying for my apartment and footing the bill for school, but I wanted to make something of myself, I wanted to find success after school without the help from my parents. I wanted to show them that, regardless of what they thought, I could do something with my art. But there was also a small part of me that did just sort of want to let loose, that didn’t want to be so wrapped up in guilt, that wished I could be more like Tara and just not give a shit about anything except having a good time. To have that sort of attitude made it seem like life would be a lot easier—in some ways, anyway. I reached over and took another big gulp of wine, ignoring the taste as it burned its way down my throat. My cheeks felt warm, but everything else seemed to soften a bit around the edges. I felt a smile spread across my face, and laughter escaping from lips without me really having much control over it. It felt good.

“I’m going to challenge you to find a guy that you can sleep with this summer. Some guy that’s not going to be the love of your life—just someone that you can sleep with and then forget about once summer is over. It’s the perfect scenario—trust me, I’ve done it a bunch of times myself.”

Chapter Five Graham Saturday night and it was slow, which, while not great for business, was a nice change in pace to how the last several Saturdays had been. After about an hour’s lull, I told Helena she could take off if she wanted. Unless we had a few walk-ins, I figured I’d work on some art and have a quiet night, which lasted all of 20 minutes before Todd showed up, not looking his usual optimistic self. “I was stood up.” He frowned and shook his head in amazement. “Can you believe it?” “It happens.” “Has it ever happened to you?” “No. But whatever, she obviously has no clue what she’s missing out on. Don’t take it so hard.” I had to admit, it was a little surprising to see how bothered by it he seemed. True, I’d never been stood up before, but I had to imagine that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it did happen—it wouldn’t be something that I couldn’t just shake off. “No call or anything, though. And it’s not like this was a blind date or anything—I’ve seen her around. She knew what I looked like.” I patted him on the back and decided not to bring up his earlier tirade about overanalyzing shit. “Let’s go get a drink,” I said. “It’s been slow as shit. I can close up a little early.”

But no sooner had I said that when the door opened. Talk about timing. Two girls stumbled in, giggling. Todd perked up instantly. They were probably in their early 20s, both attractive, though one was obviously trying harder than the other. She was the more forward one, and she marched right up to the counter and threw her purse down. “Hello,” she said, and I could smell alcohol on her breath, though she didn’t seem too bad off. “I want a tattoo. Have I come to the right place?” She had dark blonde hair with highlights, cut just above her shoulders in choppy layers. Her eyes were large, light brown; she was a little bit bug-eyed. She had a carefree, entitled air about her that immediately gave her away as one of the rich summer residents. She blinked her mascara-caked eyelashes at me and let a coy half-smile appear on her lips. “I might be able to help you out,” I said. “That’s good. My name’s Tara, by the way. I’ve got a few tattoos, and maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you see where they are. And this is Chloe. She’s also going to get a tattoo. This would be her first one.” Tara leaned across the counter. “She’s a virgin.” “Tara!” Chloe’s face turned bright red, and she looked quickly over at me before averting her eyes. “Will you shut up.” “I meant a tattoo virgin,” Tara said. “So, she’ll probably want to start with something small.” Todd was watching all of this with an amused look on his face. “I could help you ladies decide,” he said. “Unless you already had something in mind.” “My mind’s made up,” Tara said. “I want an anchor—right here.” She traced a finger over the outside of her right ankle. “But Chloe here might need some help deciding. Or maybe not. She’s an art student, so she’s probably got some ideas. Right?” The redness still hadn’t completely subsided yet from Chloe’s cheeks. “I’m not sure,” she

said. She looked at me apologetically for a second before averting her eyes back down to the floor. “I thought I wanted … I mean … I just don’t know.” “I’m sure people come in here all the time not exactly knowing,” Tara said. “You can give suggestions, right?” “I have,” I said. “But we were actually just about to close up.” I could tell both girls were a little tipsy, and I didn’t give tattoos to drunk people. “What?” Tara pulled her phone out of her purse and looked at it. “It’s not 10 o’clock yet. Not even close. Your sign says you close at 10.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’ll have to come back.” Tara gave me a defiant look, but the expression that crossed Chloe’s face was hard to read—it was a mix between hurt and surprise, and I felt bad, of all things. What the fuck? “You … you won’t give me a tattoo?” she said. I imagined her to be the sort of girl who always did the right thing, who was never told she couldn’t do something because she never wanted to do anything that would get her in trouble. “I can’t,” I said. “Not now, anyway. Feel free to come back, though. Just don’t have a drink first.” “Aw, come on,” Tara said. “I bet people come in here all the time a little drunk. I mean, don’t some people need that liquid courage just to go under the needle to begin with?” “It’s not recommended,” I said. “And, it’s shop policy. Drunk people aren’t very good at holding still, and if you’re squirming around while I’m trying to ink you, it’s not going to come out very good. Which is a reflection of my own work, and I actually do take my work seriously.”

“That’s very noble of you.” She gave me a coy look. “So, am I to believe that you are actually going to deny us service? Isn’t the customer always right?” “Uh, no, actually. I’d say 85 percent of the time, the customer is probably wrong.” “Some businessman you are.” Tara sniffed. “Fine, I guess we’ll just have to go elsewhere. Come on, Chloe.” Chloe followed her out, but not before she looked back at me with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry for …” she paused. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then she stepped over the threshold and the door closed. Todd stared at them until they were out of sight and then turned to me. “I can’t believe you just threw paying customers out of your store. Have you gone blind? Those girls were hot! You’re a fool!” “I’m not tattooing drunk people; I don’t care how hot they are.” “You totally ruined their night. Those types of girls aren’t used to people not catering to their every whim.” “And what type would that be? I like how you’re talking about them as though you actually know them.” Todd waved me off. “Come on, Graham. You know exactly the type: rich and entitled and here for the summer. They’re usually the fun ones you can get into some good nostrings-attached scenarios with.” “Feel free to go chase after them, then; I’m not stopping you. It might make you feel better about being stood up.” For a moment, it looked like he was considering it. But then he shook his head. “Better not,” he said. “The way my luck is going tonight, they’d probably both turn me down. Or, they wouldn’t turn me down but I’d get a raging case of gonorrhea or

something. Can you just close this shit up? I need a drink. But if those girls come back again, you better believe I’m going to go for it.” “Sure you will,” I said, fully expecting to never see either of those girls again.

Chapter Six Chloe I woke up the next morning with a headache and a bad taste in my mouth, even though I thought remembered brushing my teeth before I went to bed. Or maybe I was thinking about the previous night? I couldn’t be completely sure. Either way, the sun streaming through the windows seemed way too harsh, and the songbirds I usually enjoyed listening to sounded cacophonic. I buried my head under the pillow, which helped with the searing sunlight but did nothing to ease my headache. I got up and gingerly made my way into the bathroom. I felt a little better after getting a drink and splashing some cool water on my face. I’d only had two and a half glasses of wine—was that even enough to constitute getting a hangover? It seemed kind of pathetic. I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. I could see my mother through the window above the sink, sitting out on the veranda, sipping something. I looked at the clock, shocked to see that it was almost noon. Noon? How had I slept until noon? I poured myself some orange juice and popped a slice of bread in the toaster. I tried to remember what happened last night. The memories came back like when you try to recall a dream you had—fleeting and hazy, and when you tried to grasp on to any one instance, it slipped away. There was dinner and drinks. There was the club, later, and another glass of wine, which I hadn’t finished. There was the loud, throbbing music, a feeling of giddiness that I

hadn’t experienced before. Then, a little bit later, Tara whispering to me that she’d just had the best idea and we needed to leave. We’d gone to a tattoo parlor. And the guy there said he wouldn’t give either of us tattoos, which, for some reason, bothered me more than it probably should have. His logic for saying no made sense, after all. If anything, it showed that he took his profession seriously. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was that talk that I’d had with my parents earlier, but I had found myself wanting a tattoo more than anything. Nothing that big, and certainly not in a place that couldn’t be easily covered up by clothes—it would be like my own little secret, something that my parents would probably flip out over if they knew, but they wouldn’t ever have to know. Before I lost my nerve, I got dressed and headed back down to the tattoo place. ***** I didn’t let myself think about it as I drove, and I didn’t stop to think about it when I parked and walked in. “Hey,” I said, realizing that maybe it hadn’t been the smartest idea not to at least think of what to say beyond hey, because I had no idea. I felt shy, suddenly, as I always seemed to around good-looking guys. He was especially handsome though, with his beard and short, tousled hair. His eyes were dark blue, like the color of washed denim, and even though he was physically imposing, there was a kindness in his eyes that put me a little more at ease. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I was here last night with my friend.” He smiled. “Sure,” he said. “Chloe, right?” I returned his smile, pleased that he had remembered my name. “Right,” I said. “And I’m not drunk.” There was a pause and I felt my face start to flush again. I had meant that last part to come out sounding lighthearted, joking, but it sounded more like a proposition, or maybe a

threat. He looked at the clock on the wall behind me. “Seeing as it’s 1:30 in the afternoon, I’d say that’s a good thing.” “Yeah. So … I would like to get a tattoo. Something simple, and small. I like flowers a lot. I know that’s kind of a cliché, but I don’t want something that’s totally wacky just for the sake of being different. And … yeah. ” He leaned across the counter and was doodling something in a sketchbook as I talked. I realized how vague I was sounding, but I was having difficulty describing what it was I wanted. It was as though I could see it in my mind but couldn’t adequately explain it with words. “And I’m thinking it might have to be somewhere that isn’t visible. I don’t want one on my lower back, because I’d actually like to be able to see it myself, so maybe … well … where would you say people usually get them when they want to be able to hide it?” He stopped drawing and straightened. “There’s a lot of places, actually, it really just depends on what your preference is. Bottom of your foot, back of your neck—if you wear your hair down—between your fingers, ribcage, upper thigh.” He spun the sketch pad toward me. “Something like that?” I looked down at what he’d drawn and felt my breath catch in my throat. How long had he spent doing that? Two minutes? Less? He’d rendered, in perfect, thin, black lines of ink, a delicate stem with 10 or 11 offshoots of poppy blooms. It was minimalist and simple, but also stunningly beautiful. “That’s exactly what I wanted,” I said. I looked up at him. “How did you know?” I realized I sounded like an awestruck fangirl, but it really was like he’d somehow managed to access the part of my brain that knew what the tattoo was supposed to look like, even when I myself couldn’t articulate it.

He shrugged. “That was just the first thing that came to mind after you described what you wanted.” Now it was just a matter of figuring out where it should go. I didn’t want it on the bottom of my foot, and though it was small, it was too big to go between my fingers. Plus, I didn’t know how long the recovery time would be or what exactly it would be like, and I needed both my hands to start working on my sculpture. The back of the neck might be okay, but then I would only be able to see it if I looked in the mirror. It was such a pretty image that I wanted to be able to look at it easily. And, I wanted other people to be able to see it, too. “Here,” I said, touching my inner forearm right below the elbow crease. “I want it right here.” “That’s a good placement,” he said. “But you’re going to have to wear long sleeves all the time if you want to keep it hidden.” I shook my head. “I think I changed my mind about that. I don’t actually want to keep it hidden.” He regarded me, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying not to laugh. I felt myself start to blush. Yes, I was coming across as a fool who didn’t actually know what she wanted, but so what? Really, I was feeling proud of myself for coming down here alone to begin with. For someone like Tara, it wouldn’t even be a thing, but for me … this was actually a big deal. “Are you about to laugh at me?” I asked. “Because I’m not actually trying to be funny.” “I’m not going to laugh at you,” he said, in such a way that made me believe him. “But, I am curious—who are you trying to hide this tattoo from?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to say my parents, because that made me sound like a teenager. Which I wasn’t, so it wasn’t as though my parents could actually do anything to me anyway. “It’s something my parents probably won’t be too thrilled about,” I said. “Not that it matters, though, because I’m 21. I’m just … I’m just staying with them this summer, so I’ll be seeing them more than during the school year.” “You’re in school?” “Yeah. Art school. Which, according to my parents, isn’t really school and I’m wasting my time.” He leaned across the counter again and looked at me with those deep, blue eyes. “So, is this tattoo more about being rebellious? Which is totally fine, if it is. People do that.” “No. Yes. Well, I don’t know!” And I really didn’t. Would I be here right now if my parents hadn’t made me feel like such shit about being in art school? Probably not. I’d probably be dutifully working on my sculpture, completely ignorant and blissful about how excited my parents would be that I had something that was going to be in an art exhibition. “I’ve been doing a lot of hand poked tattoos lately,” he said. “And this will come out really nicely if I do it that way.” “Okay,” I said. “But … excuse my ignorance, what is that?” “I’m not going to use the mechanical gun. It’s a bit of a slower process, but I’ve come to like it a lot better. And it’s perfect for something like this. A hand poked tattoo is usually made up of a lot of lines, dots, negative space. This will come out really nice.” “Sure,” I said. “That sounds great.” I had no idea what he was talking about, to be completely honest, but I didn’t want to tell him that. “I’m ready.”

He smiled. “Okay. Let’s get started. Well, I’m going to need to see some ID first.” If I were Tara, I’d say something coy about looking like I was over 18, but I just fumbled in my purse for my wallet and extracted my driver’s license. “Here you go.” I also decided against saying something how it was the worst picture ever, even though I was pretty sure that it was. He looked at it, then looked at me, then looked back down at the picture. It took me a second to catch on, but then I laughed. “It really is me,” I said. He winked as he handed it back to me. “I’m Graham, by the way; I don’t think I ever actually introduced myself. You ready to do this?” I put my ID back in my wallet and took a deep breath. If I stopped to think about it for too long, I was probably going to chicken out. “I’m ready.” It ended up hurting less than I expected, mostly, except in a few places where it actually hurt more. I bit the inside of my cheek and winced a little, but the pain never got so bad that I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it. “You’re doing great,” he said. He had purple latex gloves on, but I could still feel the warmth of his hands on my bare skin. “It feels … different than I was expecting.” I was glad there wasn’t really any blood. “It doesn’t really hurt that much.” “It’s funny—I’ve had guys in here, these big, total jock-type dudes, and they’ve been in tears before I’m even halfway done. You know, they look like the sort of guys that could crush bricks with their skulls or something, but they are literally begging me to hurry up and get it over with.” He smiled a little and shook his head. “And then someone like you who can handle it like it’s not even a thing.” “It kind of isn’t,” I said. “I mean, it’s pretty small compared to some of the stuff

you’ve done, I bet.” “You’re right—it’s not the biggest thing I’ve ever worked on, but it doesn’t really make a difference to me. I want every piece to come out looking awesome.” “I know what you mean. There were some kids in art school that were only interested in working on the really big projects, the ones that they thought might have a chance getting into the show at the end of the year. So they wouldn’t give enough time to the smaller assignments we had, and in the end, it usually wound up backfiring because their bigger projects wound up lacking depth. Or that’s what one of the professors said, anyway.” “Well, he’s right. So you’re in art school?” “Yeah. I’m actually going to be in an exhibition at the end of this summer.” “No shit? That’s great.” “It is, except I’m kind of struggling with what the sculpture’s going to be, and then how I’m actually going to pull it off. I want it to be really good.” “Of course you do, especially if it’s going to be on public display. I could give you a hand, if you want.” “Really? That would be great.” I think we were both surprised; I was surprised he had offered to help, and he was surprised that I had accepted the offer. But I could tell he was a talented artist. And there was some part of me that just wanted to hang out with him. “Do you want to meet me at the Bennet Center for the Arts? That’s where I’m going to be working out of.” “I’d be happy to,” he said. He wiped gently at my arm. “What do you think?” I looked down, not expecting the tattoo to be finished so quickly, but it was. And it looked so perfect there on my arm that my breath caught in my throat. It was even more beautiful

on skin than it had been on paper. I looked at him, unable to keep the grin from spreading on my face. “I love it,” I said.

Chapter Seven Graham I was surprised that girl, Chloe, had come back. Pleasantly surprised, I admit, though I reminded myself about my resolution to not hook up with anyone this summer. And honestly, I hadn’t expected to see her again, except then she mentioned her sculpture project and I offered to help, which had totally come out of left field. I could have stood her up or come up with some excuse not to go, but in the end, I decided to meet up with her, because I had nothing better to do and because there was something about her that I found intriguing. I went down to the Bennet Center for the Arts, where she said she’d be working. Ah, art school. I might’ve toyed with the idea of attending art school myself at one point, though I shelved it quickly after realizing how expensive schools like that were. I probably could have qualified for some sort of financial aid, but it would be a huge headache, because I knew I’d need my mother and Wade’s information as well. I also knew I didn’t need to pay 30,000 dollars a year to learn about art. I’d never been to the Bennet Center before, though I’d certainly driven by it plenty of times. It was actually a lot bigger than I realized; from the road, you could see a modestlooking, renovated, Cape-style home that I thought made up the whole place; in reality, though, there was a connecting archway off the back of the house that attached it to a long, barn-like structure where the studios and performing spaces were located. There were several people hanging out on the porch, artist types with wild hair and Birkenstocks, paint-stained smocks. They watched me approach but didn’t say anything,

and then after I’d passed by, they went back to their conversation. I went inside and found myself in a high-ceilinged lobby with artwork adorning the walls. There were leather armchairs set up in groups of four, and on the far wall was a table with muffins, donuts, and several coffee carafes. I went over and poured myself a cup, and when I turned back around, Chloe was walking through the door. “Hey,” she said. The coffee was scalding hot and burned the tip of my tongue. “Ouch,” I said. “I mean, hey. How’s it going?” “Good. Sorry I’m a little late. Have you been waiting long?” “No, just got here, checking things out.” “Have you been here before?” “No. I don’t usually hang out with artists.” The group of people that had been outside came back in and walked past us, talking about the continuum of bas relief techniques. Chloe looked at me and grinned. “Yeah, some of the people around here take themselves a little bit too seriously. Come on, the studio I’m working in is down here.” I followed her down a long hallway. “How’s the arm?” She was wearing a three-quarter sleeve cardigan, which she pushed back to reveal the tattoo, which was almost healed and looked quite nice. “It came out so good,” she said. “I love it.” I smiled, feeling that familiar sense of happy pride I always felt whenever I saw my work out in the world. The feeling never got old; I guessed it was similar to the way a parent must feel seeing their kid score the winning point. “What about your parents? Do they love it, too?”

“It would seem the weather gods are on my side,” she said. “It’s been mild enough that I’ve been able to get away wearing longer sleeves. Plus, I get cold easily, so I haven’t really been arousing any suspicion.” We went into one of the studios, which was a large room with big windows. There was a table set up in the middle, and several easels pushed into the corner. A counter and sink were against the far wall, and opposite that was a big cupboard that housed all the supplies. “So, the show is at the end of August,” Chloe said. “I’ve got some ideas, but I haven’t decided on anything yet. That always seems to be my problem—whenever I have a project to do, I have okay ideas, but nothing spectacular. And I’d really like to come up with something spectacular, because this is the first show that I’ve been in that wasn’t held by the school. Also …” she paused, and I could tell she was debating whether or not she wanted to actually tell me whatever it was she was about to say. “My parents think that I shouldn’t be pursuing art as a career, and I’d like to prove them wrong. I’d like to show them that I actually do have talent and that I haven’t just been wasting my time at art school.” She looked at me. “Were your parents always supportive of your art? I mean, you’re obviously really successful.” I stifled a laugh. “No, I wouldn’t say that my parents were supportive of my art at all.” “I’m sorry. It sucks, doesn’t it? It’s really shitty to be passionate about something and then have your parents just kind of shit all over it.” “It does, but I think it also just makes you work harder for it. Kind of like you’re doing now, you know? You want to prove your parents wrong, so you’re going to make this wicked dope sculpture. Maybe if your parents were more supportive of it, you wouldn’t feel the motivation to work so hard. That’s how it was for me, anyway.” She was quiet for a moment and then nodded slowly, a smile spreading across her

face. She had a dimple on her left cheek. “When you put it that way, it really doesn’t sound so awful. Almost like it’s a good thing!” We sat at the table and she pulled her sketchbook from her bag. “I didn’t really even need to come into the studio today; I’m not going to start working with the clay until I at least get some sort of sketch down,” she said. “But sometimes places like this give me inspiration.” We spent the next few hours talking about art and doodling in her sketchbook. I was surprised when I looked at the clock to see how much time had gone by. “Shit,” I said. “I better get going; I need to go open the shop.” We walked out to the parking lot. Her car was parked just a few spots over from my truck. “Thanks so much for helping me,” she said. “It’s no problem, though I really didn’t do anything.” “No, you did. Just having someone to talk to and share ideas with is really helpful.” We weren’t standing that far apart from each other; less than an arm’s length. It would have been oh so easy to just lean down and kiss her, which is exactly what I wanted to do. And the way her head was tilted back just a little, looking up at me, it seemed pretty clear that she wouldn’t have minded it either. But I knew where that would lead, and seeing as not even a week had passed since that conversation with my mother—who had been so adamant that there was no way in hell I’d be able to go the whole summer without hooking up with someone—I took a big step back and reached over to yank the door of my truck open. “All right,” I said briskly. “I had a good time, thanks.” It would be best to just get out of there as fast as I could. Not that I was unable to control myself, but making a hasty exit

seemed the only way to ensure that nothing would happen right now. “Oh, um … okay. Sure. Thanks again.” My exit wasn’t quick enough that I was able to miss the look of confusion that flashed across Chloe’s face, though she did a good job at disguising it. I felt something close to anxiety as I started the truck and took off, sticking my arm out the window to wave at her but not bothering to look again. What the fuck? I chalked the anxious feeling up to my psyche simply not being used to being denied what it wanted. I wouldn’t classify myself as a hedonist, but I’d always had good luck when it came to women, and until today, I’d never not allowed myself to explore my carnal urges. I did allow myself a glance in the rearview mirror, right before I pulled out of the parking lot. She was standing there, watching me go, and though I was too far away to make out the expression on her face, I imagined it to be one of confusion, and possibly hurt—the same sort of look she’d gotten that first night I met her when I told them I wouldn’t be giving them tattoos.

Chapter Eight Chloe “All right, you’ve got to tell me everything.” Tara took a big sip of her latte and looked at me, her eyes wide. “And I mean it—spare no details.” We were sitting at one of the outside tables at the Sidewalk Café. Tara had insisted I meet her here after I was done at the studio—unless, of course, Graham and I were going to do something after that. That had seemed like a possibility, until the last few confusing minutes when it suddenly seemed like he couldn’t wait to get away from me. “There’s really nothing to tell,” I said. “We talked about art, actually. It was nice. He’s not pretentious about it, and he gave me some good ideas for the sculpture. Which was what this whole thing was about, anyway.” “Okay, but then what? I know you didn’t just talk about art the whole time.” “Actually—we did.” I shrugged, knowing that I had disappointed her. “Did you at least make plans to see him again?” “Not really. I mean, he’s going to help me with this sculpture, so I’ll see him again, but we didn’t set anything up.” Tara grinned. “Maybe you should sculpt him—sans clothes, of course.” “I don’t think that’s the kind of thing Claudia is going to want in her show.” “So, that’s it? Really? Remember what we talked about? How you’re going to get some practice before you meet your Prince Charming? He’s the perfect one to do it with.

He’s hot. I bet he’s great in bed.” I felt myself starting to blush. “Will you stop it? He’s probably got a girlfriend, anyway.” I decided not to mention how abruptly his attitude had shifted right before he left. Maybe I was imagining it. I wanted to believe that, but I knew it hadn’t been my imagination at all. But I also knew I didn’t want to hear Tara’s theory about it. “No. He wouldn’t have offered to help you with this project if he already had a girlfriend, trust me. Although … I had this idea last night. I need a few pictures of me and Graham together. Do you think he’d go for it? And then I can post them online and Michael will see them and he’ll feel like shit because Graham is way hotter than he is.” I stared at her. “I’m not asking this guy I barely know if he’ll take pictures with you so you can make your ex-boyfriend jealous.” Tara waved me off. “You don’t need to ask him—I will. We’ll go to the beach. It’ll be awesome. You can entice him in that cute bikini we got for you last year. You still have it, right?” I did, somewhere, though I’d only worn that bathing suit once and felt embarrassed the whole time because we were at the beach surrounded by families with children. Not that any of them seemed to care, and I certainly wasn’t the only person there wearing a bikini, but I’d just felt weird, especially because all the moms had been wearing modest swimsuits. “And don’t even try to tell me that you don’t want to wear it because you’re going to feel uncomfortable,” Tara chided. “You look great and now is the time to flaunt that. We’re not going to have it forever, you know, so we might as well enjoy it! Now, give me your phone.” She leaned over and snatched my phone off the table. “Hey!” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling him and setting this thing up! You’ve got his number saved in here, right? Oh yes, here it is.” She had the phone up to her ear before I could grab it back. “It’s ringing,” she said, “so even if you make me hang up now, he’s going to know that you called—Oh, hey. Is this Graham?” She turned away from me slightly. “No, it’s not Chloe; it’s her friend Tara. I met you the other night. Yeah, it’s great!” She laughed. What were they talking about? I could sort of hear his voice but not enough to make out the words. I cringed. “I heard about that,” Tara was saying. “Sounds cool. So, hey, listen. You’re probably wondering why I’m calling you. No, it’s not about the tattoo, though I am still planning to come in and get it. Chloe and I are going to be beaching it tomorrow and were wondering if you’d like to join. Yeah, we’ll probably be heading out in the morning. I don’t know—around 10? That’s when they say the best tanning hours are—10 to 2.” She paused as he said something, and she started laughing. It was kind of hard not to be in awe of how easily she could just strike up a conversation with someone she didn’t even know —on the phone, no less. I hated talking on the phone, and rarely did it since texting was so much easier. That’s what I would have done, if I had been the one to invite him to the beach: I would’ve sent a text. Not Tara, though. She hung up the phone a minute later, handing it back to me with a satisfied grin. “It’s all set,” she said. “He even sounds sexy on the phone. You better go home and find that bathing suit! I’ll pick you up tomorrow at quarter to 10.” And just like that—it was decided.

Chapter Nine Graham It was probably foolish to agree to go to the beach, but I didn’t know any man that would be able to turn down an offer like that, even if he wasn’t planning on taking it any further than lying out under the sun during the best hours, which, apparently, were between 10 and 2. We met in the Nauset Beach parking lot. They’d arrived first, and I spotted them as I drove around. Instead of parking, though, I stopped behind Tara’s convertible and threw the truck into park. “You gonna park that thing?” Tara asked. She had on a pair of tiny, cut-off jeans and a bright pink bikini top, which essentially consisted of two strategically placed triangles of fabric and some string. She was tan and taut and had oiled herself up. Chloe was wearing one of those flowing, coverall things, made out of a sheer material. She had a big, floppy hat that the wind was trying to blow off her head, and white suntan lotion smeared on her face. She was struggling to get a cooler out of the back of the car. “Here, let me help you with that,” I said. I hopped out of the truck and lifted the cooler out. “I have an idea, though—how would you ladies feel about going to the outer beach?” “Um, fuck yes,” Tara said. She looked over at my truck. “You’ve got a sticker?” “I do,” I said. I looked at Chloe. “How does that sound?” She seemed either nervous or unwilling to look at me; I wasn’t sure which it was.

Probably it had something to do with the way I had left things with her yesterday, and I didn’t totally blame her. I sure as hell wasn’t trying to be one of those guys who fucked with people’s heads just for the fun of it. I’d make it up to her today; I’d be friendly but not overly so, and neither of us would have to feel weird about any of this. “How’s your arm?” I asked. “You did a great job,” Tara said before Chloe could answer. “I will definitely be coming down there.” They grabbed their towels and beach chairs and threw them into the back of the truck. I put the cooler in there as well and then they climbed in, both of them getting in the front, despite the truck actually having a back seat. Tara, of course, was in the middle. I aired down the tires to the recommended eleven psi, and we drove to the back end of the parking lot where the entrance to the outer beach was. “So,” Tara said as I slowly navigated the truck through the soft sand. “I’m really glad that you were able to join us today. I actually had somewhat of an ulterior motive in asking you.” “Tara.” Chloe said it under hear breath but I still heard her. “This sounds interesting.” I shot her a sideways glance. “And what exactly might this ulterior motive be?” “I realize it’s going to sound a little … I don’t know, strange … but I was thinking that since it’s such a beautiful day out, and since we’re actually going to be going to the outer beach, maybe you’d pose for a picture or two with me.” “Are you an aspiring model?” She laughed. “Oh, you’re too kind. No. I’m nowhere near tall enough. Like I said, I know this is going to sound a little juvenile, and you can totally say no if you want, but it

would just be to post one or two of them on a few of my social media accounts. I wouldn’t even use your name, if you didn’t want.” I nodded, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t. “I feel as though there’s something else you can add to this that will suddenly make it make sense,” I finally said. Chloe leaned forward and turned her head to look at me. “It’s to make her exboyfriend jealous.” “I know it sounds silly,” Tara said quickly. “But, you’d really be doing me a favor, because my ex is an asshole and he left me for someone else, despite telling me that he planned on us getting married.” “Eh … I’m not that big on social media,” I said. “Maybe it could just be the two of us standing there, and your back could be to the camera or something. We wouldn’t have to see your face.” “I find it a little hard to believe that I’m the only prospect you have to make this exboyfriend of yours jealous.” “This is just something that I want to do, like, yesterday.” Tara started digging through her purse. She pulled out her phone and started tapping at the screen. “He’s been posting pictures practically every fucking minute of his trip, and I just feel like he’s doing it to try to get a reaction out of me.” “Which he totally is,” Chloe said. “Don’t feel like you have to do this,” she added. “Michael is a total weirdo anyway, and everyone was glad when they broke up!” “What about you?” Tara asked. “Do you have a girlfriend?” “Nope.” I slowed the truck down. “How does this spot look?” We’d driven past most of the other vehicles and had a nice stretch of beach all to ourselves.

“Perfect,” they both said at the same time. I parked and then helped them unload their stuff. Tara promptly spread her beach blanket out and lay down. Chloe took some time setting her stuff up and then took her coverall off, revealing a much more modest two-piece than the one Tara was wearing. Still, she looked great. She caught me looking and I tried to cover it up by asking if anyone wanted to go swimming. “In that water?” Tara asked. “Hell no; it’s going to be freezing.” “I’ll at least stick my feet in,” Chloe said. Tara grinned. “You two have fun. Be good.” Chloe put her sun hat back on and we walked through the soft sand down toward the water. I stopped before we got to the surf, though, and she looked back at me. “The best way to go about something like this is to just run right in,” I said. And before she could reply, I did exactly that. The water was ice cold. I mean, yeah, it was almost July and the air temperature was getting closer and closer to the 80s, but the water felt like it was about 50. I let out a strangled-sounding gasping shout when I resurfaced, water streaming off me, arms flailing. “Holy shit!” Chloe was still on the beach, laughing. “You’re insane!” She took a few steps closer and a wave licked the tips of her toes. “That water is so cold!” I stood, the lower half of me still submerged. “Come on,” I coaxed her. “It’s actually rather refreshing.” That wasn’t a lie; yes, my balls felt like they had been sucked back into my body and my dick was probably about the size of a thumb, but aside from that, the cold salt water

had a way of making you feel cleansed in a way that couldn’t really be compared with anything else. “But you’ve got to just go for it,” I said. “Don’t think about it. If you think about it too much, you won’t do it.” Fuck, I was starting to sound like Todd. She looked nervous, as if I were trying to talk her into jumping off the top of a building, not coming into the water for a swim. A greenhead buzzed near me and I went back under, the cold still somewhat of a shock to my upper body. When I resurfaced, Chloe had taken her hat off and was looking right at me. “Okay,” she said. “Here I come.” And just like that, she ran right into the water, shrieking before she’d gotten in past her knees. But she dove under, and actually swam several yards before coming up. She was gasping and wiping the water from her face. “Oh my God,” she said, halflaughing. “This water is so cold. You’re right, though—it does feel refreshing. I’d just really like to not encounter any sharks.” “I’ll protect you if we do.” She smiled and splashed a bunch of water at me. “You better.” We swam for a little while, then floated on our backs, faces upturned toward the warm sun. I barely even knew this girl, yet there was something about her that made me feel differently than I had with previous women. I had no idea what it was; maybe I was even imagining it since I’d decided I wouldn’t be dating anyone this summer. Maybe it was just a trick my mind was playing on me, trying to get me to give in.

Chapter Ten Chloe I’d decided that I wouldn’t talk to my parents about the sculpture. And even if they asked, I would be purposefully vague. This way, they would be completely floored when they went to the exhibit, and I would be right there to see the expressions on their faces. Mom didn’t really have any interest in talking to me about the exhibit though—she wanted to know if I had any plans on Thursday night. “I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly. If I said no, I didn’t, she was probably going to try to get me to go with her to a wine tasting or to some function at the yacht club, which was the last place I felt like spending any time. “Do you remember my friend Alison? They’re from California and they rent the O’Conner’s house for a few months every summer?” “Uh … not really.” It would be impossible to remember every single person that my mother considered a friend. “They have a son, about your age. His name’s Riley. Nice boy. Anyway, they’re here now for a few weeks, and Alison and I were at lunch the other day and we got to talking. About you two.” “Us two?” “Yes, you and Riley. It sounds like the two of you have a lot in common! So, Alison and I were thinking it might be nice to arrange a little get-together. Just the two of you, of course—we wouldn’t be there. How does that sound?”

“You’re setting me up on a blind date?” “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing! And it doesn’t have to be a blind date—here, I’ll show you a picture. Alison texted me one. He’s very handsome.” I sat there, trying not to roll my eyes, as my mother started tapping away at the screen of her phone. “Here,” she said triumphantly, turning the screen to face me. “Isn’t he handsome?” The picture showed a guy on a boat, in a sky blue polo shirt, his short, light brown hair blowing in the breeze. He had a smile on his face, showing off perfect, white teeth. He looked incredibly wholesome, like this was a picture out of some Christian Bible camp pamphlet or something. “He looks nice,” I said finally. I looked at her. “Please tell me you didn’t text his mother a picture of me.” I hated having my picture taken and did whatever I could to stay out of photos, but my mother was notorious for sneaking around and getting candid shots, which usually meant in the photos she had of me I was mid-sentence or about to take a bite of food. “Don’t worry, Chloe, I wouldn’t send a bad photo of you,” she said. “Anyway, Riley is free this Thursday, and Alison and I thought it would be splendid if the two of you went out to dinner together. And before you start trying to think of excuses, I’d like it if you were just open to this idea and went out this one time. If it doesn’t work out, fine, you tried, and that’s the most anyone can expect.” “I just don’t understand why you’re trying to set me up on a date. Did I ask you to do this? No.” “Well, if you must know the truth, Riley just went through a … how did Alison put it? A rather traumatic breakup, I think was what she used.” “Oh, I see. So, I’m his rebound.” “No, that’s not it at all. The breakup was almost six months ago, so it’s not recent,

relatively speaking. He’s moved on. He’s ready to get back on the dating scene. And I figured since you’re not seeing anyone, it might work out really well!” She seemed so earnest and good-intentioned that I could almost believe her. “But what sense would it make for you to set me up with someone who lives all the way across the country? What if things did work out between us, just for me to have to say goodbye to him when he went back to California?” “Well … let’s just say you two really did hit it off … who’s to say you couldn’t move out to California? It’s a lovely state, you know. No more harsh winters to deal with. Remember how your father and I were talking about exploring your options? Living in California might be a great way for you to do that.” “Are you serious, Mom?” I couldn’t quite believe what she was saying, though I should’ve known better. Of course this whole date was part of her bigger plan. “I didn’t realize how much you and Dad hated the idea of me being in art school. And what other options do you think I’ll be exploring out in California? Being someone’s housewife?” Mom gave me a patient look. “Now, Chloe, you’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think? No one’s saying that you and Riley are going to get married, nor is anyone suggesting that you become a housewife! Riley graduated from Stanford, though, did you know that? Just this year, in fact. Alison said he’s thinking about grad school but might take an off-year—but I’ll let him tell you all that. I’ll just text Alison back and let her know that Thursday is good for you too, all right?” I sighed. There was no point in arguing with my mother when she got like this. I could refuse this date, but then she’d just find someone else to try to set me up with. If I got it over with now, then maybe she’d leave me alone. “Fine,” I said. “Go ahead and set it up.” My mother grinned. “I think this is going to work out splendidly, I just have a

feeling!” I forced a smile and reached up to brush a few loose strands of hair away from my face. “Oh, boy, not another one of your feel—” “What is that?” My mother stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. “What?” I said. “That!” She pointed, and I realized that the slightly loose-fitting, three-quarter sleeve had slid up when I raised my arm to brush the hair back from my face, putting my tattoo on full display. I knew that by choosing to have it there, my parents would eventually see it, but I hadn’t expected it to happen quite yet. “Oh … um.” I yanked the sleeve down. “Please tell me that’s temporary. One of those henna things? What is it called?” My mother gave me a hopeful smile, which wavered and then disappeared when I didn’t say anything. “Chloe,” she breathed, looking at me as though I’d just informed her I liked to drown kittens in potato sacks in my spare time. “Has your father seen this? No, I know he hasn’t because he would’ve told me. Chloe, what on Earth were you thinking?” Her voice was starting to get shrill. “I just wanted to,” I mumbled, feeling like I was five again. I hated that I felt like this whenever my parents got upset with me, even when I knew that I hadn’t done anything wrong. And there was nothing wrong with the tattoo I got—the way she was looking at me it was as though I’d gotten something inked on my face. “It’s nice. And it’s small. I really didn’t think that you guys would mind.” My mother opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it and just shook her head. “I’m going to have to talk to your father about this,” she said after a minute. “And

we both know he’s not going to be happy. How are you going to get a respectable job with a tattoo like that?” “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” She sighed. “Well, whatever you do, make sure you wear something to cover it up for your date with Riley.”



Chapter Eleven Graham On Sunday, Todd and I were up at the ass crack of dawn, driving up to New Hampshire for a race. Todd was drinking distilled water and eating energy gel packets while I nursed a hot coffee and thought about eating a second donut. “Aren’t you supposed to eat those when you actually need the energy?” I asked. “I always need energy,” he said. “And by the way, I’m going to shoot myself if you come in ahead of me today. I mean, really. What did you have for dinner last night? A bacon cheeseburger? I had whole grain pasta and baked whitefish.” “Close,” I said. “I hung out with Chloe and her friend Tara and we got some food at Fish Fry.” “Wait, you hung out with both those girls who came in for the tattoos? And you didn’t invite me along?” “It was kind of a last-minute thing. And I knew you were at work.” “Fuck man, that’s what personal days are for! I would’ve called in. I was only doing a half day, anyway. How’d it go?” “It was totally G-rated in every way. Nice, though. Went to the beach.” He groaned and shook his head. “You’re fuckin killing me. I don’t want to hear that you went to the beach with two hot chicks and it was G-rated. Let me guess—you ended the day with ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles.”

“Something like that.” “You’re pathetic. Seriously. You’re taking this whole ‘giving up dating’ thing way too far. It’s offensive, if you want to know the truth.” “Are you offended?” “I am. I’m getting stood up and you’re swearing off women. What—do you think being celibate is going to help you win races?” “I don’t care about winning races.” “Yeah, everyone knows that.” And when we got to where the race was being held, I was again reminded of the fact that most people here thought of me as an outsider. I knew that a lot of the guys I raced against didn’t consider me on their level—despite the fact that I’d beaten a good many of them—since I wasn’t affiliated with a club and I didn’t wear Spandex or eat that energy gel shit. Most of them didn’t have the balls to say anything to my face, though, which was fine—I didn’t care what they thought, I wasn’t here for them. The one person who didn’t seem to mind giving me a hard time, though, was this kid Parker. I had never beaten him before, which was a fact that he reveled in. Maybe today would be the day. “You been training, Graham?” he yelled to me as he rode by on his carbon fiber bike that probably cost almost as much as my truck. “That’s a nice color pink,” I said, nodding at the thick pink stripe going across the front of his Spandex jersey. “Really good color for you.” It was, in a way, the sort of good-natured banter that happened when people competed against each other, yet there was this undercurrent of something else, like it could quickly deteriorate if either of us took it there. There was something about Parker that made me simultaneously want to be his friend and also deck him. It was an odd juxtaposition of feelings to have toward someone I didn’t really know at all.

The race was three 10-mile laps through mostly singletrack, a lot of rock gardens, some pretty big roots. As usual, I started toward the back of the group, but midway through the second lap, I started overtaking guys. “Fucking bitch,” Todd growled at me as I zipped around him. I was not, however, able to catch up with Parker in time, though maybe if the race had been a little longer, I would have. He was definitely tiring toward the end, but was able to sprint the last 10th of a mile and make it to the finish line before I did.

Chapter Twelve Chloe I recognized Riley right away, standing out front of the restaurant in another polo shirt —dark gray this time—and beige Bermuda shorts. He had his hands in his pockets and he looked nervous, which, for some reason, put me at ease a bit. I knew he was about a year or two older than I was, but he looked so young, with his clean-shaven face and naïve expression. I realized as I walked up, before we’d even exchanged one word, that I was comparing him to Graham. Stop it, I told myself. I arranged my face into a smile. “Riley?” I said. He snapped to attention, as though I’d startled him. “Chloe? Um, hi.” He held his hand out. “Yeah, it’s me, Riley.” His palm was clammy, but he smiled, showing off those perfect, white teeth, most likely the result of expensive orthodontia. No one’s teeth were naturally that straight and uniform. We went inside, only to follow the hostess back out to the outside seating area. “Have you … have you been here before?” he asked, and immediately started blushing as though he’d just blurted out something terribly embarrassing. It was an odd turning of the tables; usually it was me who was blushing and feeling foolish. I felt a strange, almost maternal feeling come over me. I wanted to make him feel comfortable, not because I was trying to impress him or wanted him to like me, but because he appeared to be so painfully out of his element. I’d only been on a few dates—which had all either ended disastrously or unremarkably—but I’d always been the one feeling

nervous or shy. “I haven’t, but my mother talks about it so much that I feel like I may as well have!” He laughed. “Yeah, same here. My mother treats shopping and going out to restaurants like it’s her job. And matchmaking. She’s been trying to set me up on dates since I was about 12 years old.” He leaned toward me, looking around first as though he were afraid that someone nearby might be eavesdropping. “I’m sure it’s pretty obvious and everything, but I’m gay.” “Oh,” I said, genuinely a bit surprised. Well, that explained why I was feeling so at ease! I knew plenty of gay guys from art school, though they were all a good deal more flamboyant about their sexuality than Riley was. He waved me off. “You don’t have to pretend to be surprised. I’ve only been trying to tell my mother for about … oh, the past eight years or so … that I’m gay, but she refuses to believe it. She just thinks I haven’t met the right girl, despite her claiming not to be homophobic in the least.” I had to fight back my own laughter. “My own mother actually thought it might be possible for me to fall in love with you and follow you back out to California. Because she and my father think that I’m wasting my time in art school and that I should, how did they put it? Explore my options.” “Yes!” Riley clapped his hands together. “Exactly! Except my mother keeps referring to the option exploring in terms of how many dates she can set me up on. It’s so tedious. So, you’re in art school? Tell me everything about it! My parents forced me to go to Stanford, my dad’s alma mater. But I’d always wanted to go to art school! I admire you for going against what your parents wanted. It’s not always the easiest thing, is it?” “No, it’s not.” It was nice to talk to someone who had a similar family situation.

“What?” he said. He was looking past me, over my shoulder. “Sorry, I just saw a hella hot guy go by on a bike.” “Oh yeah?” I turned, but didn’t see anyone. Riley shook his head. “You just missed him.” “Figures; I always miss the hot ones.” He raised an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe. Someone with your looks—I bet the guys are just lining up to meet you. If only I had such problems.” “Yeah right. That’s a nice thought. When it comes to guys, I have had pathetically little experience.” I thought about Graham and the mixed messages I was getting from him. “In fact, it seems that I actually sort of repel guys.” “Oh my God, you are so full of it. Stop fishing for compliments!” Riley shook his head, giving me a quizzical look. I laughed. “I’m not, I swear! I actually was hanging out with this guy that I might kind of like—even though we don’t really know each other—and at first I thought he might feel the same way, but then … I don’t know. There was this perfect moment for him to kiss me and he didn’t.” “Maybe you intimidate him.” “No way,” I said. “If you saw him, you’d understand. It was like, everything was going great until the very end, and then it suddenly felt like he couldn’t be away from me fast enough. And then the next day we ended up going to the beach with a friend of mine, and we all had a great time, but it was more like we were just this group of friends. I guess I’m just not good at this dating thing. I mean, it’s not even dating, it’s … I don’t know what it is.” “It’s all one big mind-fuck,” Riley said. “Every single bit of it. Like our parents trying

to set us up like this. But I am so glad to have met you! The last girl my mother made me go on a date with took it all personally when I told her I was gay, like it was some sort of reflection of herself! I’m so glad you’re not like that. And where the hell is our waiter? We’ve been here forever! We should just go get ice cream somewhere. Want to do that?” “That sounds great,” I said. “My mom will be so thrilled to hear how much fun we had going out together!”

Chapter Thirteen Graham I knew it was Chloe before it registered that she was at a notoriously romantic restaurant with some guy I’d never seen before. They were sitting at one of the outside tables and she was actually facing my direction as I approached, but I was on the other side of the street and she was clearly very caught up in whatever it was she was saying to that guy. I slowed a bit as I went by, and the guy actually turned to stretch and caught my eye. It might’ve been a good opportunity for a stare down, except in this part of town, you actually had to have your eyes in front all of the time, or you’d end up getting doored or, at best, running over some hapless tourist. So, she had a boyfriend. Big fucking deal. It’s not like I was expecting to be her boyfriend. I even thought about going over and just saying what’s up, which, if anything, would show that I was completely unbothered by the fact that she was out to dinner with whoever that guy was. But, I decided not to, and I kept riding. My plan had been to just ride the mile and a half back home, but I took a detour and went for another six miles. I pushed myself hard, even though I’d already been pushing it—the last thing I wanted was to have to think about Chloe out with another guy.

Chapter Fourteen Chloe At breakfast that morning, my father drank his coffee and cleared his throat several times before asking me what sort of person I hoped to come across as. “Huh?” I said. My brain still felt clouded with sleep and it seemed way too early to have this sort of conversation. Plus, it had turned incredibly humid overnight and everything had a heavy, sticky feel to it. The sort of weather you just wanted to sleep right through. He put his coffee mug down. “There is something to be said for not caring what people think about you. Or caring too much, rather. But I’d like you to tell me how it is you hope to come across to people. Do you want people to take you seriously? Do you want to be a respectable person?” He looked pointedly at my tattoo. “The choices you make now are going to have ramifications later in life. You do know that, don’t you?” “Of course I do, Dad.” “And you might decide that you don’t want to be this artistic, free-spirited person. You might realize that you’d actually like to have a career, and I would hate to see you do anything to jeopardize that.” “I’m not trying to jeopardize anything,” I said. “I’m glad to hear that. Though I’d have to say, your actions are suggesting otherwise.” He gave me a stern look. In the past, such a look would have made me start to quake

in my boots a little, but now it just made me angry. “You and Mom are acting like I’ve done something awful!” I said, my voice rising with each word. Part of me felt as shocked as my father looked; I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d talked back to my parents. But now that I had started, I didn’t want to stop. “I got one tattoo. A tiny tattoo. That I can easily hide. So if I were to go get that job in finance that you so clearly want me to have, all I’d need to do is wear long sleeves. Problem solved. Except I’m not getting a job in finance.” My father took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He looked at me much in the same way I imagined he looked at the underlings who worked in his office when they’d done something they shouldn’t have. “What’s going on with you, Chloe?” he said. “Your mother and I both can’t help but feel as though you’re treating us with an attitude that’s … not like you.” “I’m not trying to give you an attitude.” “We’d beg to differ. You may not be trying, but that’s certainly how you’re coming across.” His disapproval of this so-called attitude I was giving was apparent. That old, childhood fear that I was doing something wrong started to overtake the anger I felt. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “I’m really not trying to give either of you any attitude. And of course I want to make a good impression on people.” I looked down at my forearm, at the delicately drawn flower. If I saw someone with a tattoo like that, my first reaction would probably be to tell them I liked it, not run away screaming. “Obviously, you can’t take the tattoo back,” he said. “You’ve got it and it’s here to stay. But I’d suggest you think long and hard before you get anything else. It’s going to be there forever. You don’t know how you’re going to feel about something 10 years from now, 15 years from now—you get what I’m saying. Just because you like something today

doesn’t mean you’re going to feel that way always.” “That is true.” I hoped that by agreeing with this last sentiment of his, the conversation would be over. And thankfully, it was. My father finished his coffee and then left to go meet up with his friends for their daily round of golf, followed by lunch and drinks at the clubhouse. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at me as he walked out, to which I could just offer a wan smile. Once I heard his car start and pull away, I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked at my phone to see if I had any new notifications. A few emails I’d check later. A new message from Tara. No new messages from Graham. Which I thought was kind of weird, because I’d texted him twice on Tuesday evening, and now it was Thursday morning. Not that I wanted to be one of those insecure people that freaked out if someone didn’t respond to a text within the first five minutes, but … it seemed a little odd. Should I text him again? I didn’t want to be annoying. But I was starting to annoy myself because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I picked up my phone and scrolled back through our messages. I started to type a new one out to him, but then stopped. I’d sent two messages now with no reply—was it completely pathetic to send a third? I thought about calling Tara and asking her what she’d do, but I already knew exactly what she’d say: she’d either text him again, or, better yet, go down to the tattoo shop and talk to him in person. So, I decided that’s exactly what I would do. ***** The problem with impulsiveness is not thinking through to the next step. I knew if I

started to think about going down to see Graham, and what I would say, I would probably end up chickening out, so I didn’t allow myself to consider any of that, not even for a second. As I drove down to the shop, I blasted my angriest playlist (mostly pop punk songs by bands that one of my friends freshman year of art school got me into) and sang as loudly as I could. When I didn’t know the lyrics, I just kept going with nonsense words. I managed to find a parking spot right out in front of the shop, and I parallel parked perfectly, which I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of. Maybe Graham had happened to glance out the big plate glass window when I was doing so and saw me do it, though he seemed like the sort of person who probably didn’t give a second thought about parallel parking. I walked right into the shop. A woman was behind the counter. “Oh,” I said. She looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at me. “Hey,” she said. “How can I help you?” “I was looking for … is Graham here?” “He just stepped out to get coffee—oh, here he is.” I turned right as I heard the door open, and there was Graham, pushing the door open with his shoulder, two cups of coffee in hand. “Chloe,” he said. “Hey.” He walked past me and handed one of the cups to the woman and then set his down on the counter. “Hey,” I said. He turned to face me but he didn’t say anything. This was when I realized that perhaps coming down here without a clue as to what I was going to say maybe wasn’t the best idea. “I’ve been texting you,” I said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence had passed. “And I hadn’t heard anything back.” “You know, I forgot I have a couple quick errands I need to run,” the woman said. She slid out from behind the counter. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

And then it was just Graham and me, standing there. He still didn’t say anything. “I was just wondering why you hadn’t gotten back to me,” I said. “I didn’t want to keep texting you, though, so I thought I’d just stop by.” His brow furrowed, and he stood there as though very deep in thought, like he was trying to decide whether or not he should tell me something. Was he debating whether or not to tell me that it was totally insecure of me to be freaking out just because he hadn’t texted back? I didn’t want to come across like that; I really didn’t. “Look,” I said, when he still didn’t say anything. “If it’s that you don’t want to hang out, that’s fine—you can just tell me. That would be better than you just not returning my texts and hoping I’d get the message. Because I can be a little dense sometimes. Obviously.” The expression on his face softened. He walked closer to me and put a hand on my upper forearm and gave it a squeeze, which seemed far more a friendly gesture than a romantic one. “You’re not dense. And of course I want to hang out,” he said. “I’ve just been pretty busy. I was meaning to get back to you. I’m not one of those people that has their phone attached to him all the time. So I don’t always see when texts get sent right away, and then sometimes something will come through and I’ll read it but not get back right away and then just … forget.” “It’s okay,” I said, feeling bad now that he felt like he had to explain himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it. I shouldn’t have just run down here like this.” “Sure, you should have,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad to see you. I’d love to bail on work today and come hang out, but we’re booked through the early evening and I can’t leave it all up to Helena.” He’d let go of me, but was still standing awfully close. The air seemed charged

around us, but maybe I was just imagining that? We were close enough to kiss. I was never good at figuring out whether or not a kiss was going to happen. My first “boyfriend,” in fact, I’d never actually kissed because neither of us had been able to work up the courage to initiate it. For me, it was because I kept thinking about what was going to happen after the kiss, like, what would I say? Or was I just supposed to look lovingly into his eyes? I also couldn’t stop thinking about how it was kind of strange to see someone’s face that close, and I worried about how mine would look. All these worries culminated in that first boyfriend and I never actually kissing, so I didn’t even count him as my first boyfriend. I was suddenly inundated with these same concerns as I stood there looking at Graham. He didn’t make a move further toward me, so I hesitated. He seemed like the exact opposite of the sort of person who would be plagued with the insecurities I was currently feeling, so if he wasn’t kissing me, it must be because he didn’t want to. He liked me as a friend, but nothing more. If I tried to kiss him, it would just end up totally awkward. Worse, he would pull away. So we both just stood there, closer than you’d think two people who were merely friends would stand, but neither of us making any move for a kiss. Maybe he didn’t want to because we were at his work and a customer could come in at any time? Or his coworker could come back? “Well, okay,” I finally said, when I couldn’t bear the awkwardness anymore. Was he bothered at all by that? Did he sense it or was I just completely imagining everything? I felt beyond confused, and at this point, it just seemed better if I got out of there. “I guess I better get going. Sorry again for just coming down here like that.” “No need to apologize; I was happy to see you.” He gave me a smile but made no move to do anything else. “Take care, Chloe. I’ll see you around.”

I was glad that I had gone down there to talk to him about it, yet there was still a part of me that felt he had something he’d wanted to say but had decided to keep to himself.

Chapter Fifteen Graham In high school, I’d been friends with this kid named Kurt Steadman. We played in a punk rock band together and had grand plans about all the great shit we were going to do once we were free from that prison otherwise known as high school. We both came from shitty families; Kurt didn’t have an asshole stepfather like I did— his real father could make Wade look like Mary Poppins. Kurt’s father was not a bad guy, until he got drunk, which he did most nights, and then all hell would break loose. Kurt and I had a lot in common. We were both very dedicated to our band, and even when Kurt started dating Trisha Norris, we still practiced several times a week and played shows whenever we could. I’d assumed things would just continue like this until we were done with school and then we’d hit the road and find great fame and fortune with our band. But Trisha had started to lose interest in Kurt, a fact he’d taken badly. Even when she’d broken up with him officially, he couldn’t accept it. I’d tried to keep him distracted with band stuff, tried to get him interested in other girls, even stole some beers and a fifth of Jack from Wade one night and we’d hung out drinking at one of the parks. Kurt had seemed like he was actually enjoying himself, but once the alcohol was gone, he got the bright idea to get into his car and drive to Trisha’s. He had told me he was going home, though, and foolishly, I’d believed him. I never would have let him leave had I known, or at least that’s what I told myself later. Her

parents weren’t home, but she was, and she had a guy over, someone we went to school with, though we weren’t really friends. His name was Simon. Kurt dragged him out the front door and started punching him. His rage, fueled by the alcohol I’d supplied him, had him worked into a frenzy. Simon didn’t die, but he almost did, and he spent a long time in the hospital, first in the ICU, later in rehab. He’d suffered a traumatic brain injury and was never the same. Kurt was found guilty of aggravated assault and sentenced to 12 years in prison. I’d always felt guilty for the role I played in it—maybe there was a chance that it never would’ve happened if he hadn’t been drinking. Kurt never blamed me, and during his trial, he apologized to Simon and said he didn’t know what had overcome him. I wasn’t like Kurt, I knew that. Yet, when Chloe came marching down to the shop and wanted to know why I hadn’t texted her, I couldn’t tell her it was because I’d seen her with that guy. I would never do what Kurt had done, but even admitting that seeing her out with another guy bothered me felt like it was starting down that path. Up until Kurt had met Trisha, he had never struck me as the jealous type. It just seemed like it was an easy trap to fall into, sometimes without even realizing that it had happened. And then we’d gone out and had a great day together, and the obvious way to end it would’ve been with a kiss. Which I didn’t do, even though I wanted to and knew it would’ve been oh so easy. I mean, was there a point to denying myself this? And not just myself—I knew that she had been waiting for me to initiate it, and was probably wondering why the hell I had just stood there. Was I taking this whole thing too far? Or was this just a test of willpower? The sound of the cowbells clanking to herald in the opening of the door managed to jerk me out of my thoughts. I expected a customer and started to intone a greeting before it registered with me who it was.

“Oh,” I said. “Hi, Mom.” My mother rarely ever made an appearance at the shop, so it always caught me a little off guard whenever she paraded through the door. I wondered what exactly it was she was going to want from me this time. “You sound surprised to see me. Or were you expecting someone else?” “No, I was just thinking about something, that’s all. Well, and I guess a little surprised to see you. You don’t usually stop by.” “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d swing by and pay my son a visit. That’s allowed, isn’t it?” “Sure.” “How’s business?” she asked. “Things are fine.” “Seems quiet.” “I had a few people in earlier. Things have been plenty busy.” “Glad to hear it.” She had a lighthearted look on her face and when she smiled, I could tell she was a little bit tipsy. Not too bad off, more like she’d just had a few drinks and was feeling good. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about taking a break from dating and whatnot. Remember when you told me that? My car had died?” “Yes, I remember. I also remember you giving me a whole load of shit over it.” “Right. And that’s what I’m here to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about it, and while I think that you should be out there, you know, meeting your future wife and getting ready to make me a grandmother, I do want to be supportive of you. I’m proud of the things you’ve done so far, and I don’t want you to feel like I just give you a hard time.”

I stood there, waiting for the catch. There had to be one; no way in hell she just came down here to tell me that. But she didn’t say anything else, and that was when she would’ve asked me for another loan or a ride somewhere. “Well, thanks,” I said. “I appreciate you coming down here to tell me that. I’ve actually got to take care of a few things before Helena gets here and then I’m leaving early.” “Oh? Where are you going?” “Dentist,” I lied. She didn’t need to know I was going to help Chloe with her project. My mother gave me a big smile. “You’ve always had good teeth. You can thank me for that.” ***** The people at the art center seemed a bit friendlier after I’d gone there a few times; one of the older women even asked me what discipline it was that I focused on. “Tattoos, mostly,” I said. “I see,” she said, nodding. “I’m most interested in oil painting. I heard you’re working with Chloe Singer?” “I’m helping her out.” I wondered who she had “heard” this from. “She’s got a show coming up at the end of the summer.” The woman nodded. “I’ll also have a piece in it. Claudia’s summer exhibition is quite renowned, you know.” “I didn’t.” “Well, you do now. It’s an honor to have a piece shown in her gallery. Chloe is very

lucky.” “Chloe’s very talented,” I said. “And it sounds like anyone who has a piece in her show is very lucky.” I gave her a pointed look. Holy fuck, I hated that pretentious shit. The woman didn’t need to say that she thought Chloe didn’t belong in the show, that she somehow hadn’t earned the right; the expression on her face said it all. Luckily, Chloe showed up then, saving me from having to continue this conversation. The lady I’d been talking to smiled sweetly at her, of course, as though they were best friends or something. Chloe seemed distracted, though, and just hurried down the hallway to her studio. “Everything okay?” I asked. She was taking out the sketches we’d been working on; pages and pages of doodles and drawings. She spread them out on the table. “It’s fine,” she said. “I just … help me go through these.” “Sure.” We sat down next to each other and began leafing through the papers. Some were half-finished doodles, others were actually complete, but none of them seemed fully satisfactory to Chloe. “These are good,” she said, “but nothing is exactly right.” She ran a hand through her hair. “And time is ticking, and I’m starting to feel stressed. It’s already mid-July and I haven’t even started yet!” “Maybe you’re overthinking it,” I said. “What do you mean? If I don’t think about it, nothing’s going to happen. I can’t just get some clay and start without some idea in mind of what the outcome is going to be!” “I know.” I touched her arm because I could hear a frantic note in her voice. “I’m not saying that you need to go into it blind. But I think maybe you’re overthinking it, and

putting too much pressure on yourself to come up with the perfect idea.” “But I want it to be perfect.” “I know. And I think whatever you end up deciding on will be as perfect as you can get it. But you’ve got to let yourself get started on something, because if you don’t, you’re not going to do anything. You’re just going to let that fear paralyze you.” I knew exactly what she was feeling; there’d been plenty of times when a customer had asked for a custom piece, something big, usually, and they’d given me the details, but often it came with a fair amount of leeway, and I could clearly recall how overwhelming it felt to sit in front of a blank page, wanting to get it perfect, but being too afraid to start. She took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said. Without even realizing it, I’d started rubbing her forearm. She looked down and I stopped. “You don’t have to stop,” she said. “That felt good.” “You’re strong,” I said, feeling the supple muscle in her forearm. A few tendrils of her hair had worked their way loose from her ponytail. I brushed them back from her forehead. It hadn’t felt like either of us had moved, but it seemed that we were suddenly closer, barely any distance between our bodies. The air felt thick, charged. Our eyes met. If I didn’t want this to go any further; I needed to stop this, now. Just pull my hand away, pull my gaze away, get back to working on figuring out what she was going to do for her sculpture. But I didn’t want to stop; in fact, I very much wanted to see where this would go. We’d come so close to kissing the other day but hadn’t—and I only realized after how foolish that had been. Who gave a flying fuck if I didn’t stick to my original plan? It wasn’t like I’d taken an oath or something. So, I did it. I leaned in and kissed her, and when my mouth met hers, she made a little

surprised sound, almost like a squeak, but then she was kissing me back. She kissed me back softly at first, almost questioningly, but then she got bolder, pressing her mouth firmly against my own. Damn, she felt good. She had a sheepish smile on her face when we pulled away, her eyes half-closed. “I never know what to say after,” she said. I leaned back in and kissed her once. “You don’t to have to say anything,” I said. “You can just start doing this again.” Her smile widened. “Okay,” she said.

Chapter Sixteen Chloe Kissing Graham had unleashed my creativity, it would seem. Because after that kiss, the ideas for what I could sculpt just seemed to pour from me. A mermaid, I decided, but there would also be something else, too. I wasn’t sure just what, but that no longer mattered. He was right; I just needed to get started with the idea that I had, and then the rest of it would fall into place. I didn’t want to get started on the sculpting part just yet, though, so I spent an entire night in my room, working on sketches. It was late when I finally got up from my desk and slipped into bed. I had just closed my eyes when my phone started to buzz. I fumbled in the dark for it, knocking it off the bedside table and onto the floor. I picked it up and looked at the screen. My heart sped up when I saw who it was: Graham. “Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Sorry to call so late. But I didn’t realize it was a full moon tonight. Are you busy?” “No,” I said, smiling at the sound of his voice. “Just lying in bed, actually.” “You feel up for going out?” “Going out? Now? Um, sure. Where?” “It’s a surprise. But wear your bathing suit. Do you want me to come pick you up?” “Um …” I paused. Graham showing up here late at night probably wouldn’t go over so well with my parents. “Why don’t I meet you?” “Sure. Meet me down at the shop, and we’ll take my truck.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can be there in 15 minutes.” “Awesome. See you soon.” I got up out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway and into the bathroom where my bathing suit was hanging on the towel rack. I could hear the TV on downstairs. As I slipped into my bathing suit, I debated whether or not to tell my parents that I was going out. They’d be immediately suspicious, and want to know who I was going with, and where we were going. I kind of didn’t blame them, seeing as it was already pretty late, yet on the other hand, I wasn’t a kid anymore and shouldn’t have a curfew. Except that my father would then say that regardless of how old I was, when I was living in their house, I had to abide by their rules. I tiptoed back to my room. Obviously, not telling them would be the hassle-free way to go, unless of course my mother came upstairs to find my room empty. I doubted she would, though. She’d probably had a couple glasses of wine at this point and would be heading to bed soon. She always made sure to get a good’s night sleep whenever she’d had a few drinks, to ensure that she didn’t look too bad off the next morning. I grabbed my purse off the top of my dresser, made sure I had my phone, and then left, closing my bedroom door behind me. If my parents were both in the family room, toward the back of the house, I’d have no problem sneaking out the front. I snuck down the stairs. “Can I get you anything else before I come back in there?” my father called out. I heard the refrigerator door close. “No, this is going to be my last glass and then I’m going to bed,” my mother replied. I waited on the stairs until I heard him walk back to the family room.

I’d never snuck out of my parents’ house before, and even though I wasn’t technically a child, my heart was still racing as I silently made my way across the foyer to the front door. What would I do if my dad had realized he’d forgotten something in the kitchen and went back, then heard the front door opening and popped his head into the foyer and saw me there, leaving? I felt a tingle of anxiety shoot through me, but my hand was on the door knob and I pulled it open. The screen door would squeak if you pushed it too hard, so I gently pressed the handle, pulling the front door closed behind me. And just like that, I was outside. ***** Graham was right—there was a brilliant full moon, bathing everything in a milky light. The trees cast shadows across the front lawn. I hadn’t planned on turning my headlights on until I’d turned out of our driveway, but really, it was so bright out, I wouldn’t have needed the headlights at all. I scurried over to my car and got in. At the end of the driveway, I did turn the headlights on, and I felt a sense of freedom as I pulled out onto our quiet road. I’d never done anything like this as a teenager, and I felt as though I were doing something now that I should’ve been doing then. Why had I been so caught up with being such a stickler for all my parents’ rules? I put all the windows down and hung my left arm out the window. I didn’t speed, though I wanted to, but just the feel of the air whipping my hair around was good enough. He was waiting in his truck when I got there. I parked behind him and then hopped into the front seat of the truck. “Success,” I said. He leaned over the center console and we kissed. A shiver shot down my spine. The few guys that I had kissed before Graham were nothing compared to this. Any insecurity

about it that I had previously felt melted away. He brought his hand up and cupped the side of my face, running his thumb along my jawline. “Mmm,” he said. He settled back into his seat and started the truck. “You ready for this?” “I think so. Except I have no idea where we’re going.” He grinned. “It’s gonna be awesome. You’ll love it.” We started to drive out of town. He turned down several residential roads I’d never been down before, and then took another turn down an unpaved road, driving for a little while before we came to a parking area. “Where are we?” I asked as we got out. “Clear Lake,” he said. “Ever been here?” “No, I haven’t.” “It’s one of my favorite swimming spots. One of the cleanest lakes in the state, probably; it’s about 90 feet deep at its deepest. But in the summer, it gets really crowded, so I usually stay away until the season’s over. Except on nights like this, because there’s an awesome rope swing.” “I’ve never done that, either,” I said, feeling a little lame. “I did go to a water park once; there was a huge water slide there,” I added, as though that might somehow redeem me. “I’d say the rope they’ve got set up here beats any water slide. But you’ll have to try to it out for yourself. We’re going to walk through the woods for a little bit,” he said. “Normally I’d bring a flashlight, but on nights like this, there’s no need to.” A narrow footpath threaded its way through the woods, and I followed close behind Graham. It felt thrilling and a little wild to be out in the woods at night like this. The air

was full of the sound of spring peepers, and the moonlight gave everything an ethereal, otherworldly feel. I heard a sound. “What was that?” I asked, freezing. Graham stopped too, listening. “People,” he said. “Come on.” “People?” I repeated skeptically. I felt a surge of nervousness—where had he taken me? What were we doing? But he reached out and took my hand, quelling the nervousness. “It’s a popular area,” he said. “For good reason.” We followed the path for a few more minutes before it opened into a clearing; we were on a bluff, it seemed, above the lake. The full moon was reflected perfectly on the water’s black, glassy surface. There were several people there, and they were taking turns swinging into the lake from a long rope attached to a thick branch connected to a tall tree overlooking the lake. “Wow,” I said, watching as someone grabbed the rope and took a running leap. The rope swung out over the pond, and at the apex, the person let go and dropped into the lake. “You weren’t joking.” For some reason, when he said rope swing, the image that came to mind was something much smaller, something dinky and cute that little kids would use, something that would gently arc out of the water. This rope swing, though, was absolutely nothing like that. I looked up, and the branch the rope was attached to seemed impossibly high, to the point that I wondered how on Earth someone had gotten up there to attach it in the first place. And then, of course, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was secure, and what the chances were that the rope would simply not hold? But while I stood there wondering that, the rope came swinging back and someone

else reached out and snatched it. There were several knots of varying sizes tied in the rope, and the person let out a yell and then took off. “That looks insane,” I said. “First time here?” a girl asked me. She looked like she was a few years younger than me. “Yeah,” I said. “I was nervous the first time too, but you’ll love it! Well, as long as you’re cool with that weightless feeling in your stomach; you know, it kind of feels like you’re going to throw up but in a good way?” Graham laughed. “Stellar endorsement.” “This is the best-kept secret on the Cape!” one of the guys yelled. “And we’ve got a newbie here!” He pointed at me. “Love when I get to be here to witness someone get their cherry popped!” Everyone laughed and I was glad it was dark so no one could see my furious blushing. “Let me see that rope,” Graham said. It was clear that Graham had been here before. He knew exactly the right point to leap off the bluff, and timed his release of the rope perfectly. He shot into the water like a spear. “Fine display,” someone said, and a few people clapped as the rope came swinging back. I looked down to the lake, waiting for him to break the surface. A few seconds went by and nothing; the ripples that had been created when he dove in were dissipating and the water was almost completely smooth again. My heart started to beat faster. Where was he? Shouldn’t he have resurfaced by now? Why wasn’t anyone else noticing that he hadn’t come up yet? I took a step closer. If I had to take a running leap off this bluff, I probably

could propel myself far enough to hit the water, but— But before I could do anything like that, he resurfaced, almost all the way back to the shore. I breathed a sigh of relief. “You up?” one of the guys asked. I hesitated. Graham was still in the water, walking up onto the beach. “I’m going to wait for him,” I said. “I think she’s afraid!” A different girl than the one I’d already talked to stepped forward, grabbing the rope from the guy. “I’ll go.” I tried not to feel terribly out of place as I waited for Graham to make his way back up here. I watched the girl as she took a few steps back, pulling the rope taut, then ran forward. “Kristin always fucks it up,” the guy standing closest to me said. “Watch her, but only to know not what to do.” I watched, and saw how she let go way too early, before the rope had even come close to reaching the apex. She dropped unceremoniously into the water, doing what sounded like a belly flop. By the time someone had hauled the rope back in, Graham was back up on the bluff. “Okay,” I said, walking over to the rope. “I’ll go.” Now was as good a time as any, I figured, because Graham was here and that girl Kristin was still in the water, so she wouldn’t see me if I messed up too badly. Not that she had any grounds to say anything. I felt nervous because I knew they were all watching me. I shouldn’t have said anything about it being my first time. “You’ll be fine,” Graham said softly.

It was really just a matter of letting go at the right time, knowing when the rope had reached its highest point. How would I know? I wasn’t sure, but standing around thinking about it wasn’t going to help. The rope was thick but smooth and well-worn. I gripped it tightly as I took a few running steps, and then there was nothing under my feet. The rope swung out at a huge arc, and it felt as though I’d left my stomach behind on the bluff. I could hear people cheering and whooping behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and right as the sensation felt like it was going to overwhelm me, I let go of the rope. I had no clue if the rope was anywhere near close to reach its highest point in the arc, but I didn’t care. There was a weightless feeling for a second, and then I was plummeting, and I let out a shriek, except it sounded less scared and more joyous. I hit the water feet first, shooting down to what felt like an incredible depth. I waited until I stopped plummeting before swimming for the surface. I opened my eyes, everything dark and blurry around me. I could see the moon above, a shifting, tremulous reflection. I broke the surface of the water with a gasp, and I could hear them clapping and shouting. Before I started the swim back in, I floated on my back for a minute, looking up at the black sky, the bright moon as white and round as a dinner plate. “No way that was your first time,” one of the guys said to me when I finally scrambled back up onto the bluff. “That was awesome!” I said. “That feeling ….” Graham came over and pulled me into a hug. “Told you it was pretty great, huh?” he said. I tilted my head back a little and looked up at him, knowing that he’d lean down and kiss me. He did, and it felt thrilling not just to be kissing him, but to be doing it here, in front of other people. Someone let out a wolf whistle. “Get a room!” someone else yelled, followed by hoots and cheers and laughter.

We pulled back, laughing, and they offered me a turn again, wanting to see if I’d be able to replicate the same perfect jump I’d just taken. There was a part of me that wished we could just stay out here at this rope swing forever.

Chapter Seventeen Graham The next day at work was slow, so when Chloe texted and asked if I wanted a visit, I told her I would love that. Last night at the rope swing felt something like a dream, though it wasn’t; it had actually happened. Eventually, Chloe and I left and we drove around for a little while, and then I brought her back to the shop. We made out for a few minutes before she got into that little car of hers and drove off. When had I last enjoyed myself that much? I couldn’t remember. It was nothing extravagant, just some good, simple fun, like in childhood. She had a big grin on her face when she showed up. “You should be proud of me,” she said. “I successfully managed to sneak back into my house last night without getting caught. Actually, it was past midnight, so it was technically this morning.” She smiled, looking pleased with herself. “Glad you didn’t get into any trouble,” I said. “That’s the last thing that I wanted to have happen. Thanks for coming with me.” “Any time! I want to go back there. It was awesome.” “Come here,” I said, walking over to her. “Don’t worry; there’s no one here.” We started kissing, the length of our bodies pressed against each other. I could feel my dick get hard, straining against my jeans. There was no reason to put this off any longer. I went over and locked the door. “Follow me,” I said, taking her hand. We went out back, where my office was. There

was a desk I rarely sat at, with bank statements and old mail and bags of credit card slips that I was supposed to give to my accountant at the end of the fiscal year. There was also a couch—a vintage, leopard print chaise lounge that I had picked up at a thrift store because … well, just because. It was a vintage, leopard print chaise lounge. I had barely even pushed the office door shut when she started kissing me. I was a little surprised but very pleased with her forwardness. I kissed her back, pulling her close to me, feeling the length of her body against mine. What kind of crazy shit had I been thinking, saying I wasn’t going to have sex all summer? “You’re such a good kisser,” she said. “I was lying in bed just thinking about that all last night. I couldn’t get to sleep.” “Wish I had been there.” I ran my hands down her sides. I kept my right hand at her hip but slid my left hand underneath her shirt, feeling the taut smoothness of her lower belly. I slowly traced that hand higher, brushing her rib cage lightly, cupping her breast. She let out a groan and pressed her pelvis against me. She was so hot, but I didn’t think she even knew it. “You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” I asked. She gave me that sheepish smile again. “No,” she said. “Well, you are.” “I think you’re so hot, too. I did that first night we walked in here. And I really do want my first time to be with you,” she said, her breath warm on my ear. “Wait, what?” I said. I stopped kissing her, certain I hadn’t heard her right. It was as if an old vinyl record had come to a halt with a scratch. I had some vague recollection of Tara making a joke about it the first night they’d come into the shop, but I’d just assumed that’s all it had been … a joke. Surely she’d been with another guy before.

“It’s fine,” she said, pulling me toward her again. “Just forget that I said anything.” It would be easy enough to. She pressed her mouth back against mine. Oh, yes, it would be more than easy to just keep things going the way they were going, and if she’d been anyone else, I probably would have but … no. Maybe I was a romantic at heart, because I didn’t want her first time to be in the back of a tattoo shop where I’d already fucked plenty of women. This didn’t mean I was going to call up and book us the honeymoon suite at the Cuddle and Bubble, but I actually liked this girl enough to know that she deserved to have her first time be something more than the shop office I barely went into. She didn’t want to hear anything about it, though. “I don’t care,” she kept saying. “None of that matters. Was your first time in some picture perfect setting?” “No.” “I bet most people’s aren’t. And I am completely okay with that.” I disentangled myself from her. “Not here,” I said. “At least not your first time. Come on—” I held my hand out to her. “And trust me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chapter Eighteen Chloe I took his hand, wanting to believe that it really was because he was concerned about it being my first time. Still, there was a tiny voice in the back of my head insisting that if he really thought I was so hot and he really liked me as much as he said, we just would’ve done it right then and there in his office. He was insistent that we leave. I felt the passion of the moment begin to ebb. Stop it, I admonished myself. He’s trying to make this special for you. He put the CLOSED sign up and locked the shop door. I felt a pang of guilt that he was closing the shop for this—what if someone was heading over who wanted a tattoo? I shook my head, trying to clear the thought. What was wrong with me? I was about to lose my virginity. It seemed weird to think about it like that, to have this time right now where I knew it was going to happen, even though it hadn’t happened just yet. But I wanted it to happen, I did, even if this wasn’t exactly how I might’ve envisioned it. Graham and I weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend, but I liked him more than I could remember liking anyone, maybe ever. So what if he wasn’t my type? So what if he wasn’t from some rich family? All things my parents would care about, but I didn’t. I realized now, maybe because I genuinely liked him, that none of that other stuff mattered. We got into his truck and he drove me to his house, which was a cute, winterized cottage with a big maple tree in the front yard. I followed him inside, through the living room, down a short hallway, and into his bedroom. It was a medium-sized room with

windows on two of the walls. Sunlight spilled through the window to my right, dappling the floor. “I guess it’s good it’s been so hot lately,” he said. “I haven’t had to use the sheet or the comforter, so it looks like I actually made my bed.” I laughed, a little too loudly. I was starting to feel nervous, shy about him seeing me naked, uncertain that I’d even know what to do. This was exactly what Tara had been talking about! I was a fool to think that I was doing someone a favor by saving myself—it was really more like a huge disservice, because I was going to be completely clueless as what to do. Graham came and stood in front of me, a gentle but serious expression on his face. “We don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to,” he said. “No, it’s all right. I want to.” He brought his hand up to my chin and tilted my head up. “I don’t know if anyone that I’ve been with before has been a virgin,” he said. “The first person you slept with wasn’t?” I asked, surprised. He laughed. “Oh, hell no. I was 13; she was almost 18. Definitely not a virgin.” “Oh,” I said. “I guess I just thought … I don’t know, virgins slept with virgins.” I realized how stupid that sounded once I’d said it out loud. He took a step closer to me and leaned his head down. I let my eyes close as his mouth pressed against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my body sink into the contour of his. He had his hands around my waist, and he slowly moved them down over my ass. And it was like as long as I didn’t think, I would know what to do. The second I started to pay any attention to my thoughts, I was barraged with things like: You don’t

know what you’re doing! Am I doing this right? Does he want you to put your hand there? But when I tuned all that mental chatter out, it was as though my body knew exactly what to do, exactly how to respond to his touches. As we kissed, I ran my hand through his hair, felt the smooth muscles and ropy tendons of his neck. We took a few shuffling sidesteps toward the bed. Before we sat down, though, he pulled his T-shirt off, revealing a sculpted torso and large, black and white tattoos. They weren’t images, but intricate Celtic and tribal designs. “Those are beautiful,” I said, running my fingertips across one of them. “They almost make you look like a sculpture.” He pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the ground next to his. His hands were warm against the small of my back, and he kissed slow circles on my neck. I had to bite my lip not to laugh because it tickled, but that just heightened the sensation of his mouth against my skin. His hands moved up slowly and I felt him unclasp my bra, the straps sliding slowly down my arms. He undid his pants and pushed them down, revealing more tattoos across his thighs. He undid the button on my shorts and pushed them down, and I stepped out of my underwear, and then we were both there, naked. I could feel the thoughts trying to push their way back in, thoughts that were trying to convince me I should feel awkward right now that I was standing here in front of this guy I barely knew, but I ignored them and started to kiss him again. He brought his hands up to my breasts, squeezing them, gently tweaking my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It felt so good I let out a gasp as our tongues explored each other’s mouths. We lay down on the bed on our sides, facing each other. I could feel his cock pressing against me. I reached down and wrapped my hand around it, surprised at how silky smooth the skin was. I moved my hand slowly up and down. He let out a long exhale and

buried his face into my neck, nipping gently at my collarbone. He traced his fingers down my torso, over my hip bone, then lightly through my pubic hair. He stopped for a second, only to bring his fingers up to his mouth, get them wet with saliva, and then bring them back down. I spread my legs apart and felt a chill shoot up my spine as he slowly slid a slick finger into me. “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he whispered. I shook my head, rocking my hips against his hand. No, I wanted to say, you’re not going fast enough! I couldn’t describe the feeling; I just wanted more. I wanted him in me, deeper, faster, I wanted that feeling to last for as long as it could. My whole body quivered. I was so wet down there; no way it was just from the saliva from his fingers. “That feels so good,” I said, a pleading note in my voice begging that he not stop what he was doing. “I didn’t know it was going to feel so good.” He brought his wet fingers up to my clit and moved them in slow circles before sliding them back into my pussy. My breath came in heaving gasps, and a building sensation of almost unbearable pleasure was threatening to completely overwhelm me. I couldn’t control the sounds I was making and almost didn’t feel like I was in control of my own body anymore. I didn’t care; I just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. I squeezed my eyes shut and bucked my hips against his hand and let myself be overtaken. The feeling was centralized in my pelvis and radiated out, reaching every single cell in my body. It kept building and building, like there was no cap for the amount of pleasure a person was capable of experiencing. Could someone die from having an orgasm? It was like an earthquake or some other cataclysmic event where you know the outcome is going to be completely earth-shattering and you are not sure you’re going to be able to survive it. I felt his mouth against my breast, the tip of tongue swirling around my nipple. And that did it—it sent me over, the sensation peaked, I saw stars, I almost started crying. My

thighs were wet and my muscles ached in a most delicious way. I kept saying Oh my God, in between heaving breaths, and I knew I sounded like a fool but I didn’t care. He kissed my forehead, and then reached over and pulled something from his bedside table. A condom, which he put on deftly, and then positioned himself between my legs. My entire body was still buzzing as he lowered himself down on his forearms above me. I could feel his cock between my legs. “I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said, looking into my eyes. “All you need to do is say so.” “That’s the last thing I want you to do.” I smiled. “I don’t think I have ever felt so good in my entire life.” He moved slowly, though, just pressing the head of his cock against me but not pushing it in. I was so wet though, it felt like it would be able to easily just slide in, and I moved my thighs apart even wider. I tried to slide my butt down a little the next time I felt him press against me, and this time, the head of his cock slid in. It was much bigger than his two fingers had been, and there was a stretching sensation that was not uncomfortable, just foreign. I relaxed and he moved his hips forward slowly, sliding in further and further, until he was all the way in and our pelvises were pressed against each other. “Is this okay?” he asked. I nodded, and he let his eyes fall closed, a tiny smile on his face. “Good, because you feel fucking incredible.” I ran my hands all the way down his back and squeezed his muscular ass while he moved his hips, not just back and forth, but side to side and in languid figure 8 motions. He started to move faster, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and there was almost a pained expression on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched, the tendons in his neck prominent. And I began to feel that sensation start to build again in my own pelvis, gaining momentum against his thrusts. I brought my arms

up around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. The expression on his face didn’t change; it just deepened, if anything, and then he let out a shout as he pushed his hips against me hard. After a minute, he rolled off and lay next to me. We were both panting and slick with sweat. He reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezed it. “I hope that was everything you imagined it would be,” he said, and I could hear the joking note in his voice, but there was also a part of him that sounded completely sincere. I rolled to my side and nestled myself next to him. “If I had known sex was like that,” I said, “I might have started doing it a whole lot sooner.” He laughed. “Oh, boy. Well, I’m glad to hear that. I think. Really, though, I should’ve done this the proper way and taken you out on a date first.” “Will you stop it!” I whacked his shoulder playfully. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m some sort of princess or something.” He gave me a pretend hurt look. “You don’t want me to take you out?” “I’m not saying that! I think that would be a lot of fun, actually, and of course I would love to. But I only want you to do it if that’s what you want to do, not just because you think you need to create some sort of special scenario for me.” “We can do things backward,” he said. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? Let me take you out. To a restaurant. You know, like an actual date. The thing that two people usually do before they sleep together” I grinned. “That would be lovely. But do we get to sleep together afterward?” “Hell yeah, we do.”

Chapter Nineteen Graham I’d never been one to kiss and tell, but of course Todd wanted details after I told him that I’d been hanging out with Chloe. We were out on another training ride, and when we should’ve been pedaling hard enough that talking would’ve been next to impossible, we were riding at a leisurely pace while Todd harassed me for details. I gave him a few, but not many, which obviously wasn’t going to satisfy him. “Come on, man,” he said. “I’m hitting like, 0 for 3 in the women department. It’s fucking pathetic. I’m just off my game as of late. I don’t know what the fucking deal is. I mean, here you are, getting pussy despite declaring yourself celibate for the whole summer—what the hell happened with that, anyway?—while I’m actively out there trying to score and getting repeatedly turned down. What is up with that?” “Maybe you too need to take a vow of celibacy and then women will start to find you irresistible.” “So, is that it for you? Your summer of no sex is officially over?” “Well, seeing as I’ve had sex … yeah.” Todd grinned. “Bring on the ladies.” “Nah, it’s not like that. I’m still not looking to get involved with a bunch of other women. Just this one.” He widened his eyes. “What? Am I hearing you correctly? In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that you were interested in just being with one

girl. In fact, I think the only time you tried anything even close to resembling that it was with that psycho Danielle.” “You don’t need to remind me,” I said, grimacing. “But Chloe is nothing like Danielle. She’s sweet. She still sees the good in people, in things, she hasn’t been all fucked over by the world yet.” “She’s sheltered, is what you mean,” Todd said. “She’s a sheltered rich girl.” “Her parents have money, yeah.” “So she hasn’t been all fucked over by the world yet, because people like that never are. You know how it is—they just get shit handed to them on a silver platter. The world is their oyster. Which is a totally messed up saying, if you ask me, because oysters are fucking disgusting.” “Supposedly they raise your libido.” Todd shuddered. “Fuck that shit. I’d become celibate before I’d eat an oyster. A raw one, anyway. Who the hell wants to bite into something that’s still alive?” I personally liked oysters a great deal, though they weren’t something I indulged in very much. “Anyway,” he said. “I’m not even going to attempt to disguise my envy that you are getting laid and I currently am not.” “It’s not a competition.” “Everything is a competition. Life is a competition, and one I feel I’m completely sucking at, big time. Help a bro out. You must know someone.” “I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

After the ride, I went home, showered, and then hopped in my truck to meet up with Chloe for our date. I’d told her she could choose where we went, figuring that it would probably be somewhere I’d never been before, somewhere fancy that might even require me to wear a tie. But no; she ended up suggesting this little hole-in-the-wall place that I was a little surprised she knew about, right on the outskirts of town, not too far away from The Finery. Lorraine’s, it was called. It had a homey feel, with calico curtains and pinepaneled walls that were mostly obscured by the hundreds of decorative plates that the proprietress—Lorraine—had adorned them with. Fine dining it was not, but the food was good and I sure as hell wouldn’t have to be concerned with whether or not I was dressed appropriately. She was just getting there as I pulled in, and I parked right next to her car. “Hey, you,” I said. She looked great, in a fraying pair of cut-off jean shorts and an old white T-shirt she’d cut the sleeves off of, her hair pulled back in one of those messy buns. “Hi,” she said. She came right over to me and gave me a quick kiss. “I’m starving. This place has the best burgers.” Any sort of food after a ride tasted good, but there was something particularly satisfying about a burger, especially one loaded with bacon and cheese. We went in and got seated at a corner table. “I’m surprised you knew about this place,” I said, glancing at the menu even though I already knew what I was going to get. She had the menu in front of her, obscuring all of her face but her eyes, which flickered over to me. “I’ve never actually been here before,” she said. “Yeah? How’d you know about it?” “I … looked it up online.”

Before I could say anything, our waitress, Denise, came over, a girl I’d actually gone to high school with. She’d been one of Trisha’s friends, actually, and had supposedly been the person Trisha called immediately after calling the police after Kurt had left that night. I could tell Denise hadn’t realized it was me until she was already at our table. We didn’t dislike each other, but things had always been awkward after Kurt and Trisha had broken up, even all these years later. “Oh, um, hi. Hi, Graham.” She looked at Chloe. “Hi there. What can I get you to drink?” Denise didn’t really look my way again as she wrote down Chloe’s request for a lemonade and mine for an iced tea. “Do you know what you want to eat?” I asked. Chloe nodded. “Maybe we should just order our food now, too.” I figured this would at least save Denise an additional awkward encounter. “So, you two obviously know each other,” Chloe said after Denise had left. “What’s the story there?” She leaned forward, a smile on her face. I imagined she expected me to tell her some funny story about a date that didn’t go quite right. “That’s Denise,” I said. “We went to high school together. Never dated.” She raised an eyebrow. “She must’ve liked you then. I think she still might! Did you see the way she blushed when she came over here?” “I can say with 100 percent certainty that she does not like me like that.” I hoped that she’d drop it after that, because I’d have to make up some story to tell her if she didn’t. No way in hell I was going to tell her about Kurt. But my answer seemed to satisfy her, or at least she didn’t ask me about it any further. She looked over my shoulder, taking the room in, the people. The place was fairly busy,

and random snippets of people’s conversations floated over. Chloe leaned across the table toward me again. “I want to talk to you about something.” There was a serious note in her voice. “Okay. What’s up?” “I know this is going to sound a little weird. So, please don’t take it the wrong way.” She brushed a few wisps of hair back from her face. “But I’d like it if we could maybe keep this … just keep it sort of between the two of us.” Denise appeared then, with our drinks. “Here you are,” she said, looking only at Chloe. Chloe kept looking at her then at me, as if trying to say, See? She likes you so much she can’t even make eye contact! “Thanks,” I said. Denise ignored me and walked off. I looked at Chloe. “So, what is it you want to keep a secret?” She fiddled with the wrapper on her straw. “Us. You and me.” “You want this to be a secret?” “Um, something like that.” I nodded. “Okay. Are you embarrassed by me?” I asked it as a joke, but Chloe widened her eyes and shook her head vehemently. “No!” she said. “Oh my God, please don’t think that. It’s just … my parents have been giving me a hard enough time about art school as it is, and I’m just not sure how they’re going to react to me seeing someone. I don’t want to give them any more reasons to give me shit.” “Fair enough,” I said. I decided not to mention that it would actually save me from getting shit from my own family and friends as well. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, though, then the door opened and my

mother and Wade walk in. I looked down at the table, hoping we were sitting far away enough from the entrance that they might not notice me, but no such luck. My mother saw us and made a beeline for the table. Wade looked far less enthused. “Well, would you look at that!” my mother said, loud enough for most of the people in the restaurant to stop what they were doing and look over, as though they might actually see something worthwhile. “Oh, hey,” I said. Chloe looked at my mother and then at Wade, who had slowly made his way over. He grunted at me in way of greeting. Chloe had a smile on her face, waiting for the introduction. “Chloe, this is my mother, Janice,” I said. “Janice, this is Chloe.” “May we sit? So nice to meet you, Chloe. Graham hardly ever introduces us to his friends.” Chloe had slid over in the booth and my mother sat down beside her, leaving me with the choice of sliding over for Wade, and him with the option of actually sitting down next to me. We both thought better of it though, and neither of us budged. “Now, Chloe,” my mom was saying, “I don’t think I’ve heard anything about you. Tell me everything!” “Well,” Chloe said, looking only the slightest bit uncomfortable, “there’s not a ton to tell.” “Oh, stop being modest. I can tell, a girl like you, you’ve probably had quite the life now, haven’t you? What do you do? Do you work?” “I’m in school.” “School! Now that’s wonderful. What are you going to school for?” “I’m going to art school.” My mother could be hard to read sometimes; now was one of them. Sure, her tone

sounded friendly, and luckily she hadn’t gotten started on her own personal career choices —yet—but I couldn’t be completely certain that this line of questioning was benign. “Jan,” Wade said with a cough. “Why don’t we go get a seat.” For once, I was actually glad for Wade’s presence, though my mother showed no signs of actually listening to his suggestion. Denise appeared then with our food. Wade looked at the plate longingly. “Denise,” my mother said. “I didn’t realize you still worked here.” Denise gave her a tight smile. “Still here, Janice,” she said. “I stopped working on Mondays.” My mother nodded. “Ah,” she said. “Well, nice to see you.” Denise nodded and hurried away. “I come in here every Monday,” my mother said to us. “And I’d always sit in Denise’s section. I wondered what had happened to her. She used to be friendly with that girl who dated the boy you were in a band with, didn’t she?” “Yeah,” I said, knowing full well that my mother knew exactly who she was talking about. I looked over her shoulder, across the restaurant. “Oh, hey look, there’s a free table over there, and I think it’s got your name on it.” Wade brightened. “Great,” he said. “Come on, Janice, let’s go.” But my mother completely ignored him. “Now tell me,” she said. “Are you two … an item?” She giggled conspiratorially, as though she and Chloe had been friends for years, not people who had just met each other. “We’re not,” I said quickly. “You know, it’s so funny, because I had just stopped by Graham’s work the other day to tell him that I was supportive of his decision to not—”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” I said loudly, shooting my mother a look. “Yeah, come on, Janice,” Wade said. “I’m starving. Let’s give these two their space.” For a second, my mother looked like she was going to flat out refuse, or ask if they could join us. But maybe it was something on Wade’s face, or perhaps my own, that finally convinced her to remove herself from the booth. “Well, it was very nice to meet you,” she said, holding her hand out. “You too,” Chloe said, shaking her hand. My mother then made a big show of coming over to give me a kiss on the cheek, which both Wade and I rolled our eyes at. “Enjoy your food,” Wade said before they walked off. Luckily, all the seats within talking distance were taken, so they ended up across the room. “Err, sorry about that,” I said. I rubbed my eyes, wishing that we had gone to another restaurant. I didn’t even realize that she and Wade actually went out to eat together. “It’s okay,” Chloe said. “I just … it’s kind of weird.” “What is?” “Well, how we were just talking about keeping things between us a secret and then your mom shows up and we tell her that nothing’s going on. It just felt kind of weird. Not to be up front about it. Especially because she asked. It was like we lied to her. I just met her and I’m already lying to her!” I had to smile. “Don’t feel weird about it. Honestly, the less she knows, the better.” “She seems nice.” “She has her moments.” We started to eat, and I tried to ignore the fact that I could feel my mother’s gaze on us from across the restaurant, even though I wasn’t looking in her direction.



Chapter Twenty Chloe At least once every summer, my parents hosted a big party and invited everyone they socialized with during the summer. It was mostly my mother’s thing, but my father would help out a little by contributing a bottle or two of good scotch, and I was expected to dress up and play the role of good-natured hostess. The majority of the people were from the yacht club and my dad’s golfing buddies, and it was usually boring, but there was good food, so at least in that regard, it was worth going to. And of course I wanted to invite Graham, except I knew my parents would flip out if I did. I would have much rather hung out with him, but I’d never hear the end of it from my mother if I bailed. Tara’s family always attended, and this year, so would Riley and his parents. Most of the other people I didn’t really know, despite being introduced to them on many occasions over the years. They all looked the same to me, with their expensive shirts and deep suntans, the women with their jewelry and impeccable nails. The men talked about finances or how they’d done on the golf course; the women gossiped or complained about their live-in help. It was so stereotypical and exactly what you’d expect to see in a movie or something. I didn’t want to grow up and be like that. The large dining room table had been cleared off and the caterers had covered it with all sorts of dishes. There were crab cakes and oysters on the half shell; several types of cold pasta salad, some sort of meats on a skewer with an assortment of glazed vegetables. Lots of salads, both of the fruit and vegetable type. Vegetarian sushi, although if you were

going to have sushi it seemed pointless to have it without the fish. And, of course, plenty of alcohol. Champagne, wine, even some beer, and my dad’s scotch. I put a smile on my face and did my best to mingle, though I’d never been any good at just inserting myself into a conversation that had already been started. Not like Tara, whom I saw across the room, talking with a few guys who I didn’t recognize. She had an animated expression on her face and both of the guys were laughing at whatever it was she was saying. But other people didn’t seem to have much of a problem coming up to me. “So, what is that you do?” This question had been posed to me several times tonight, this time the person asking was a man whose name I forgot, who was in real estate. “I’m in art school,” I said. “Oh?” He actually looked somewhat interested when I said this, which was a bit surprising. Most of the other people just smiled vaguely and said something along the lines of, “That’s nice, dear,” before moving on to talk to someone else whose ambitions might be set a little higher. “And are you enjoying it?” “I am. I’ll be starting my senior year next year.” “Art is a very subjective business,” he said, frowning, as though he was genuinely concerned that I had chosen a subjective business to be interested in. “Not like real estate.” “I’d think real estate is very subjective, too,” I said. “I mean, just because one person likes a house doesn’t mean everyone will, does it?” The man smiled. “That’s a very simplified way of looking at it. Yes, we all have our own personal tastes, but there are some things everyone can agree on. A waterfront property is always going to be worth more than something located in the bad part of town.”

“There are no bad parts in this town,” I said, even though I understood the point he was trying to make. “Exactly.” He swirled his wine around in the glass. “Your parents have an impressive wine collection. Anyway, my point being—art can be a difficult career to find success in.” I tried not to roll my eyes. He was acting like he was telling me some great, earthshattering revelation. “But if it’s something that you’re passionate about,” he continued, “you should pursue it. See my son over there?” He nodded his head and I turned to look. “That’s Parker. He’s around your age. He knows he wants to be successful and he knows he wants wealth, but he hasn’t found his passion yet. Some people go the majority of their lives before they actually find their passion.” I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be an inspirational talk or what, so I just smiled and nodded. What did I care what another of my parents’ rich friends thought? They all thought they knew best, they all thought that money was the sole marker of success. I thought about Graham, who wasn’t wealthy, but was doing pretty well, but more importantly, doing something that he really enjoyed, on his own terms. “I know someone, actually,” I said, “who isn’t rich but he’s happy. And he knows what his passion is, and he gets to live it every single day.” I could’ve stopped right there, but I didn’t. “He’s a tattoo artist.” The expression on the man’s face changed, but only for a second, and so quickly that I might’ve imagined it. Of course friends of my parents wouldn’t approve of a tattoo artist, but I didn’t care. “Well, he sounds like one of the lucky ones, then,” the man said. “Where does he work?”

“It’s called On Point Tattoo, I think.” I realized that though I’d seen the sign plenty of times now, I wasn’t completely sure what it said. I could see the black lettering, the sans serif font, and I was pretty sure it was called On Point, but I wasn’t 100 percent positive. “His name’s Graham,” I said. “Graham …” Shit. I didn’t even know his last name. “Walker,” the man supplied. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, almost as if he were recalling a fond memory. “Do you know him?” I asked. “I know of him. I’ve never visited; no tattoos for me.” We both laughed, and then he excused himself to go get a refill on his drink. “Good luck with your art,” he said, before he walked off. ***** Later that night, from across the room, I saw the realtor’s son, Parker, talking with my father. They appeared deep in conversation, but I was too far away to make out what they were saying. It seemed serious, though, judging from the expressions on their faces, though right as I thought that, my dad said something and Parker’s face broke out into a grin. I’d always wondered if my father wished he’d had a son. My mother was fond of telling me that the reason they didn’t have other children was because they wanted to be able to devote all of their parenting energy toward me. As a kid, that used to make me feel kind of special, but as a teenager, I’d always wished there had been a sibling to help alleviate some of their expectations. “Your mom throws a way better party than my mother does,” Tara said, jarring me out of my thoughts. She was carrying two flutes of champagne, one which she handed to me. “Cheers.” We clinked glasses and I took a sip. It tasted like bitter, bubbly water. I made a

face. “Oh, come on!” Tara exclaimed. “This is the good stuff.” She downed her glass, her eyes going across the room. “Hey, your dad’s over there talking to Parker. Damn, he’s hot. Parker, not your dad. Well, your dad’s not that bad, either.” “Ew!” I said, elbowing her. “Shut up.” “I wonder what they’re talking about.” “They’re probably talking about their bank accounts or something completely boring like that.” “Parker is seriously hot. Do you think he has a girlfriend?” “He probably has 20 girlfriends.” “I’m going to go see if he’s interested in one more.” She winked at me and then sauntered off, and I just shook my head, wondering what on Earth it must be like to have that sort of confidence in yourself. ***** My plan the day after the party was to spend a big chunk of time working on my sculpture, and then go surprise Graham at work. I was thinking I might swing by Sweet Treats and bring over some chocolates for him. I finished my bowl of cereal and rinsed it out then put it in the drying rack. I was just about leave when my mother breezed in from the backyard. “Oh, there you are,” she said. “I thought I heard you rummaging around in here.” “Hi, Mom. I’m about to leave; going to go work on my sculpture.” “Oh, okay. Well, before you go, there is one thing I’d like to chat with you about. It won’t take too long.”

“What?” “Riley’s mom mentioned that she saw you the other day,” Mom said. “She went out for lunch at … what is that place called? Lorraine’s? It’s that rundown-looking place, on the right as you’re heading out of town. I didn’t know you went to places like that?” I paused, my hand on the doorknob. “Places like what? A restaurant?” “If it could be called that. I mean, it’s certainly not fine dining.” “So? You might find this hard to believe, but I’ve been to plenty of restaurants that aren’t Zagat-rated. And I don’t hear you giving Riley’s mom a hard time over it.” “Well, you know dear,” Mom said, shaking her head a little, “Riley’s mom likes to expose herself to all sorts of different lifestyles. She even likes to go camping. But! That’s not why I brought this up. She mentioned that she saw you there. With a guy?” “Oh.” I shrugged. “I didn’t see her.” “Who was this guy you were with? She said he had a beard. And tattoos.” “Um … just someone.” “Does this ‘just someone’ have a name?” “I’m really late, Mom, I’ve got to get going.” I didn’t want to have to lie to her, but I also could take a pretty good guess at what her reaction would be if I told her the truth. “Chloe, please just answer the question.” “He’s just a friend,” I said. “Not even a friend; someone from the art center. We were just talking about our projects is all. Geez. I feel like you’re interrogating me. Am I not allowed to go out and have lunch with a friend?” “Oh,” Mom said, visibly relieved. “Someone from the art center. Well, that makes perfect sense. No, sweetie, I’m not trying to interrogate you, and I don’t want you to feel

that way. It’s just … your father and I want you to have standards when it comes to who you date. That’s all.” “And standards about what restaurants I eat at, apparently.” “Chloe. We just want what’s best for you. And I admit—I’m a little concerned about you, all right?” I stared at her. “Concerned about what?” “Sweetie, have you ever had a boyfriend?” “Mom, I really don’t feel like talking about this with you. I really don’t.” “You’re a beautiful young woman, Chloe. You have a lot to offer someone, and I’m just afraid that you’re neglecting that part of your life.” Oh, if you only knew, I thought, but I tried to keep my face neutral. “I’m focusing on school, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t want to be one of those people who goes to college and just screws around for four years while their parents foot the tuition bill. I mean, shouldn’t you guys be proud of that?” “Of course we’re proud of that! And we’re not saying that we wanted you to go and mess around for four years, either. But, I have to admit, I do find it a bit strange that you’ve never had a boyfriend. You’re 21, sweetie.” “Oh, I am? Because you’re treating me like I’m 14 or something.” “If you were 14, I would not be nearly as concerned with the fact that you’ve never dated anyone!” my mother replied, completely missing the sarcasm in my voice. I rolled my eyes. “Okay, great, Mom, I’m glad you and Dad are so concerned about my dating life.” The whole thing kind of pissed me off, though. Aside from the fact that she was completely interfering with my life when she shouldn’t be, I also knew the undercurrent of

what she was saying without coming out and saying it: they didn’t want me to date anyone that they considered beneath me, which a tattooed, bearded local clearly was. My mother then invited me to go to the yacht club with her, which was about the last thing on Earth I felt like doing. “I’m going down to the art center,” I told her. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do if I want to have it ready for Claudia’s show.” “Oh, yes,” she said. “How is that going?” “It’s fine.” “It was awfully nice of Claudia to agree to give you a spot in the show, wasn’t it?” “It was. Which is why I want this to be as good as it possibly can. Which means I have to spend time on it, so I can’t go hang out at the yacht club.” “Okay, okay, I get it. Well, one of these days you’ll have to. And if you’re hungry, Chloe, I can give you some great recommendations for restaurants. That place you went to isn’t any good.” “Do you know this? Have you been there?” “No, but I can tell just by how it looks from the outside. Now, if you want to try a really great menu, there’s this new place that just opened …” I completely tuned her out. I let her finish whatever it was she was saying, smiled, said goodbye, and then left.

Chapter Twenty-One Graham Someone was knocking at the door. I was lying in bed, half-awake, enjoying how comfortable I was and having a rather convincing argument with myself that I should stay in bed a while longer. Then the knocking started. At first, I thought it might’ve been Chloe, but the knocking quickly morphed into banging, and I knew there was no way in hell it would be her. “Hold on!” I shouted, throwing the sheets back, feeling fully awake—and irritated— now. If it was the fucking mailman with a package that was too big to fit in the mailbox, I was going to lose my shit. But no, it was not the mailman; it was my mother. “Hi! Good morning,” she said as I opened the door. I had to refrain myself from asking what the hell she was doing here. Why all the visits all of the sudden? “Is there something wrong? Is there some sort of emergency I’m unaware of?” My mother bustled in, looking around. Looking for clues of the presence of someone else, I knew immediately. “There’s no one else here,” I said. “Except now, you. What exactly is it that you want?” “I’m here for a tattoo.” I smiled thinly. “Ha ha, very funny. I don’t work out of my home, so you’re SOL, sorry. What are you actually here for?”

“I’m not just allowed to stop by? I haven’t been over here in ages. This is such an adorable little cottage.” I stifled a yawn, wishing that I’d just ignored the banging on the door and stayed in bed. “I was thinking about running into you the other day at Lorraine’s,” my mother said. “Been thinking about it a lot, actually. She’s not the right girl for you. A mother knows these things.” “Please. You know, despite all your talk about wanting grandchildren and all that shit, I have a feeling that it wouldn’t matter who the girl was—you wouldn’t approve.” “That’s simply not true. I don’t think you realize how badly I want grandchildren. Even if it would make me feel old. But you need to be with someone who’s not … how should I put this? So much of a goody-goody. She just seems so … vanilla.” “You don’t even know her. You met her for what? Five minutes? Less than that? And you think you know her?” “I’m a good judge of character.” I snorted. “Right. If by ‘good’ you mean ‘totally horrible.’” “I’m just saying, Graham, that I don’t think she’s the right one for you.” “Weren’t you just saying how you were going to be supportive of me? This doesn’t sound very supportive. You shouldn’t just get to drop that support because you suddenly don’t agree with me.” “It’s like me and your father,” she said. I held my hand up. “Just stop. I don’t need to hear anything about you and my father.” She continued as though I hadn’t said anything. “If I had been a rich summer resident, or some tourist with a mansion out in California, do you think he would’ve just walked away like that? You bet your ass he wouldn’t have. But because I was a local girl he met at

a strip club, he saw me as beneath him. Just a bit of fun for him, something that he thought he could just completely forget about once he got tired of it.” I was tempted to put my fingers in my ears and start humming. “Really, Mom, just stop. I don’t need to hear your theories about this.” “That’s exactly what he did, though he hadn’t been planning on you. Well, neither of us had. For a few days, I thought that this might be a turning point. You see, I actually really liked your father—he could make me laugh. I thought maybe that he was the man I’d been waiting to meet, and I’d be able to start on a different path, have the sort of life that I always imagined I’d have.” “You could’ve had that,” I said. “It didn’t need to be dependent on some guy.” She shot me a warning look. “I don’t need you to give me any feminist lecture.” “It’s not actually a feminist lecture—it’s just common sense.” “The point here being, I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. These people are different than we are. They think different, they see the world differently. People like us, we’re disposable to them. They’re used to getting whatever they want, when they want it. Sure, your girl seems nice and charming, but that’s just because she hasn’t gotten bored with you yet. You’re like a novelty to her. Same way I was for your father.” This sure as shit was not the fucking conversation I’d planned to start my day off with. I rubbed my temple, which was starting to throb. “You know, Mom, as much as I appreciate this heart-to-heart, I’ve really got to get going. I’m late for an appointment.” This was a blatant lie and I was pretty sure she knew it, but I didn’t care. ***** I went out and got two coffees, and then two chocolate croissants because they were

fresh out of the oven and looked damn good. I didn’t know if Chloe would be down at the art center or not, but I figured I’d at least stop by and see. Her car was in fact there, so I parked next to her and walked inside. The lobby was quiet, and I managed to make it down the hallway to her studio without having to run in to any pretentious art people. “Oh, hey!” she said when I stepped through the door, a smile lighting her face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you now.” “I come bearing coffee. And chocolate croissants.” I put the pastry bag on the table and handed her one of the cups. “You are the best,” she said. “This is exactly what I could use right about now. She probably wasn’t trying to look smokin’ hot, but she did, in a pair of paintspattered cutoffs and a curve-hugging, black tank top. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, wispy pieces falling across her face. She had a smear of dried clay on her cheek; I reached over and tried to wipe it away. “How’s the work going?” I asked. “There’s been some false starts,” she said, gesturing to the table where there were several pieces of clay that might’ve been something at one point but had been squashed back. “So, you’re still going with the mermaid?” “Yeah.” She took a sip of her coffee, set it down, and went over to the sink and washed her hands. “But I feel like there’s supposed to be something else, too. You know, like if I just do the mermaid, that’s not enough.” She wiped her hands on her shorts and then came over and sat down. I sat on the stool next to her and put my hand on her leg. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” I said.

She turned toward me, a smile on her face. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.” She leaned in and kissed me, and I felt her hand go down between my legs, where my dick was already half erect and getting harder. She unzipped my fly and then reached her hand into my pants. “Whoa,” I said. I glanced toward the door, which was shut but definitely not locked. “Should we be doing this here …?” “I want to,” she said. “You were so good to me the other day … I want to do this.” Before I even had a chance to say anything else, she got down off the stool and was on her knees in front of me, her head in my lap. What the fuck, but I meant that in the best way possible. Did this somehow go from me bringing coffee and pastries to me getting a blow job? It would seem so. She held my dick in one hand and as she took me into her mouth. She sucked gently at first, with increasing pressure, taking more of me in until I swear I felt the back of her throat. Her mouth was so warm and wet and soft and this whole thing was such a surprise that if I wasn’t careful, I was going to unload and she’d just started less than a minute ago. I bit hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from making too much noise, and I affixed my eyes to the door, imagining any of the post-menopausal artists walking through the door in an attempt to take the edge off a bit. It worked, sort of, but then Chloe started to suck just on the head of my dick, working her hand up and down my shaft. I bit harder on my cheek, tasting blood, wanting the pain to be a diversion, but there wasn’t any way to slow this down now. I’d wrapped it up when we’d had sex, so while it was certainly good, there hadn’t been that skin-to-skin contact. Not like now. I gripped the edge of the table and gritted my teeth.

“I’m going to come,” I managed to gasp out, in case she wanted to pull up before that happened. But she either didn’t hear me or didn’t want to; the climax hit, my balls felt tight, my perineum contracted, and I came right in her mouth. “Goddamn.” Chloe rocked back on her heels and then stood up. “I’ve never done that before,” she said. I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” “I haven’t!” “Well, that was quite impressive for a first time, then.” I stood up and put myself back in my pants. Right as I was zipping up my fly, the door opened and one of the women that I’d seen the very first day I’d come here stuck her head in. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but can I just borrow one of those easels?” She nodded to the corner of the room. “Of course!” Chloe said. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thanks,” the woman said as she walked out of the room with one of the easels. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” “Not at all,” Chloe said with a grin. ***** As I walked back out to my truck, I thought about what my mother had said about Chloe earlier, about her being too much of a goody-goody. Would a goody-goody have just done that? Not that I’d ever discuss details of my sex life with my mother, but there was a part of me that was just dying to ask her that, just so she’d have to admit she was wrong.

Chapter Twenty-Two Chloe I got home later, feeling decidedly pleased with myself, and not just because I’d actually made some progress with the sculpture. The look on his face! He’d been so surprised that I was going to do it, and then once I’d done it, at how good it had actually been. I smiled to myself as I walked into the house. “Chloe!” My mother’s voice rang out right as I stepped into the entranceway. “Is that you?” “It’s me,” I said. “I’m in the living room—come here! I have exciting news.” I left my bag on the table by the stairs and went out to the living room. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “So what’s this news of yours?” She had a big smile on her face. “So, I hope you don’t mind, but I gave your number to someone, who’s probably going to be getting in touch with you soon.” “Who?” I asked, immediately suspicious. “And don’t tell me that it was another guy, because I’m just really not interested!” “You and Riley have really hit it off!” she said. “Yeah, because he’s gay. Is that it? Did you give my number to another fabulous gay guy? Maybe I can set him and Riley up.” “I did not,” Mom said, wagging her finger at me. “But I think you’re going to be more

than pleased when I tell you who I gave your number to.” “Who?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to know. The sooner she told me, the sooner we could get this conversation over with. “His name’s Parker. You know him. You were talking with his father the other night at the party, actually.” Parker. That was the guy I saw Dad talking to, I remembered now. He was undeniably handsome, and Tara would probably shit a brick if he did end up texting me. “I really can’t believe someone like him doesn’t already have a girlfriend,” I said. “Well, you better believe it. And he was more than interested when I gave him your phone number.” “If that’s the case, why didn’t he just come up to me the other night? We were both there. That seems like a slightly more respectable way than having your mother give out your phone number.” “Oh, stop it, Chloe. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me wanting to be helpful. And did you ever think that maybe he was nervous? Maybe that’s why he didn’t come up to you.” I stifled my laughter. Parker was one of those kids I knew of, because our parents knew each other and traveled in the same social circle, but we’d never had an actual conversation. I wouldn’t even know what to say if he came up to me, but now it sounded like I would have to think of something. Thanks, Mom. “Anyway, Parker’s a good kid, from a good family, and he’s keen on taking you out. He rides bikes, you know. Maybe you two could go on a bike ride. Out on Martha’s Vineyard or something. You could make a day of it.” “Maybe you should just go on the date for me,” I said. “Since it sounds like you’ve

got it all planned out.” ***** I wasn’t expecting Parker to call, but he did, the very next day. I didn’t recognize the number when it appeared on the screen, and usually I didn’t pick those calls up, but for some reason I did this time. Maybe it was just simple curiosity. “Hello?” “Chloe?” “This is Chloe.” “Hey, this is Parker,” he said. “Your mom passed your number along to me the other night. Sorry if it seems a little strange that I’m just calling you out of the blue like this.” His voice was deep and smooth, like he should be doing voiceovers on television commercials. I pictured him standing there at the party that night with my father, talking about whatever the hell it was they’d been discussing. The stock market? Golf? “Oh, hi.” I felt nervous all of the sudden, even though there was absolutely no reason for me to; it’s not like I was going to hang out with him. It’s not like I needed to say anything to him beyond this phone conversation. Really, I just hated being on the phone with anyone. “How’s it going?” He, however, seemed like the type of person that would be perfectly at home talking with anyone, in person, on the phone, via Skype, whatever. “Um … it’s pretty good. How are you?” “It’s summer and I’m on vacation, so I’d say I’m doing pretty good, too. So, I was thinking maybe we should hang out some time. You up for that?” He spoke easily, as though we’d been friends for a while. I knew enough to know that this wasn’t necessarily a good sign; if he was this relaxed and easygoing-sounding, surely he couldn’t be that

interested, could he? Wouldn’t he sound the least bit nervous? Not that it mattered if he liked me or not; I wasn’t interested. I just wasn’t sure how to say it, because all of a sudden, I felt as though I was going to hurt his feelings. “I don’t know,” I stammered. “You don’t know what?” “I just … I don’t think that I’m going to be able to hang out. I’m sorry. Bye!” I hung up the phone before he could say anything. My pulse raced, as though I’d just done something very exhilarating. In a way, I had. I doubt Parker had ever had a girl turn him down before, never mind hang up on him. My mother would not be thrilled, of course. But if she was that upset about it, then maybe she really should be the one to go out on a date with him herself. ***** I met up with Tara later that day at the beach. “I have a confession,” she said as she stretched out onto her beach blanket, her entire body glistening with coconut oil. “I don’t know if you’ve been on Facebook recently, but I added a few pictures.” “I’ve been taking a social media break,” I said. “It’s actually been kind of nice.” “Well, here, look.” She reached over and yanked her bag over to her, rummaging through it until she found her phone. I watched her tap at the screen and then she handed the phone over. There were two pictures, from the day that we’d gone to the outer beach with Graham. One was a selfie of Tara, with Graham’s profile in the shot, too. The other was one I had taken, actually, the two of them, with their backs to me, facing the water. I remembered taking that photo; the sun had been just right, dazzling off the surface of the water, and the two of them standing there reminded me of something you might see in a

magazine. “Tara!” I said. She hadn’t actually captioned the photos, or tagged Graham, but she’d gotten hundreds of likes and plenty of comments. “I thought you weren’t going to do this! Does he know?” “I had mentioned it to him.” “I know, but he said he wasn’t into it.” “Well, it’s not like I tagged him.” “He probably doesn’t even use Facebook. You can’t just put his photos up. How long have these been up for?” She held her hand out for the phone. “Not that long.” She scowled. “You can barely even see his face. I mean, in the second picture, you can’t see his face.” “Then what’s the point in putting them up to begin with? You don’t even know if Michael saw them. This whole thing is silly, doing this to make him jealous. Maybe he’ll send you a message and say he’s happy for you.” I handed the phone back to her, surprised that even she would do something like this. Was it because she really had been so in love with Michael and seeing him with another girl was making her do irrational things? “You really have to take those pictures down. Or at least tell Graham, at which point, he’ll probably tell you to take them down.” Tara sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But only because you’re making me feel like I’m doing something totally fucked up—which I’m not.” “You kind of are, a little.” She tapped the screen a few more times and then looked at me, her eyes hidden behind her big sunglasses. “There,” she said. “I deleted them. But I can still hope that Michael saw them before I took them down.”

“You are crazy.” I laughed. “So, I have something to tell you, too. You are never going to believe who called me this morning.” “Oooh,” she said. “I love games like this. Except … I have no clue. Who called you?” “Remember that guy from the party? Parker?” Her eyes widened. “He called you?” “Yeah.” “What did he want?” “He wanted to hang out. I guess my mother gave him my phone number. You know how she’s always trying to set me up on dates? Well, she’s taken it to the next level this summer; it’s like it’s her main objective or something. Anyway, she might’ve even given him my number at the party.” “Wow! So, he actually called? How’d it go, what’d he say?” “It was a pretty short conversation, actually. He basically asked me if I would ever be interested in hanging out.” “That’s a start! What are you guys going to do?” “Nothing. I told him I didn’t think I’d be able to hang out.” “Wait a second,” Tara said. “You’re telling me that Parker called you and you turned him down? Are you out of your mind? Do you know how many girls would fucking kill to have the chance to go out with him? And you turned him down.” I bit my lip. I should not have kept this thing with Graham a secret from Tara, but there was a good chance that once Tara knew, the rest of the world would know, too. She wasn’t into keeping things like that a secret. “Maybe I’m just not interested,” I said. “You’re acting like he’s the world’s most perfect guy or something.”

“Duh! Because he basically is. I mean, you’ve seen how hot he is. He’s hotter than Graham. Well, he’s hot in a different way.” Tara looked at me closely. “Chloe!’ she exclaimed. “I think I know what’s going on here! You like Graham, don’t you? I knew you did after that day we went to the beach!” My face had started to flush, which would be as much of an answer as if I’d just come out and said yes. “Okay, fine.” I looked around even though I knew no one was within earshot. “But listen: you have got to promise me that you’re not going to say anything, okay?” She nodded solemnly. “I promise.” I hoped I could believe her. “We actually … I slept with him.” Tara’s eyes got so wide I thought they were going to fall out of her head. “You did what? Why am I just hearing about this now? You were going to keep this a secret from me?!” “No, I was going to tell you, it’s just … I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It just seemed like it might better to keep quiet about it. I don’t want my parents to know. If they find out I’m seeing the guy who gave me the tattoo, they’re going to flip out. They’ll be beyond pissed.” “You’re right, they probably will. But who cares about that! You slept with him! That is so awesome! How was it?” I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face at just the mention of it. “Pretty awesome. He was so sweet!” And because she was Tara and would want to know, and because part of me had been wanting to talk to someone about it, I filled her in with some —but not all—the details. “Well, listen,” Tara said when I’d finished talking. “I think that’s great you had such a good experience. I told you he’d be good in bed, right? I’ve got a sixth sense about these

things. But anyway, I really think you should at least take Parker up on his offer. He wants to hang out with you. That’s awesome. And it’s not like you have to do anything with him —you can just hang out and see how it goes.” “I’d feel weird about that, though,” I said. “I want to hang out with Graham.” “It’s not like you two are going out. You’re allowed to hang out with more than one guy. Don’t think for a second that if a hot girl walked in to get a tattoo and then asked him he wanted to hang out, he’d turn her down. Guys only do that if they’re in like, committed relationships. Even then, some guys don’t.” “I just think it would be a little weird to go from being the girl who wasn’t dating anyone to the girl who’s now hanging out with two different guys.” Tara waved me off. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve done it tons of times. And remember—you were going to sleep with someone sort of as practice first, so when you met the right guy, you’d know what to do.” Except it wasn’t like that at all, I wanted to tell her. Graham and I had just had this connection that I didn’t really need to know anything beforehand. I didn’t think Tara would get what I was saying if I told her that, though, so I didn’t. ***** That evening after dinner, I went up to my room to look at some of the art books I’d checked out of the library the other day. I lay on my stomach on my bed, flipping through the oversized hardcover books, looking at all these amazing sculptures. I felt sure I would never in a million years be able to come close to creating something of that caliber. I’d just finished flipping through the last book when I heard my mother calling me. “Chloe! There’s someone here for you.” For one wild second, I thought that it was going to be Graham, that he’d somehow

figured out where I lived. Of course, I should have known it wasn’t him just based on Mom’s reaction, but I pushed myself up off my bed and skipped down the stairs. Parker stood there in the front entryway, smiling at whatever my mother was saying to him. I slowed, coming to a stop on the staircase. He looked up and saw me. “Hey,” he said. “I’ll give you two a minute.” My mother hurried off before I could accuse her of inviting Parker over here. “I apologize for coming by unannounced,” he said. “I was really hoping you might reconsider. I’d really love to take you out sometime.” I knew my mother wasn’t far, and that she was probably eavesdropping. I coughed. “That’s nice of you. I guess I just … I mean … don’t you have a lot of other girls that are interested?” He tilted his head slightly to the side and gave me a quizzical look. “Well, there’s a few, sure, but … I don’t know, I’ve seen you around every summer now for a while, and I thought we might have a good time together.” Parker was very handsome, in a completely different way than Graham was. Parker could be the face of a Ralph Lauren ad, or a luxury car brand, or something. He just radiated this feeling of well-being; not in a Zen sense, but more in a he’s-never-had-todeal-with-a-hardship-of-any-kind sense. He thought life was good because that’s all life had ever been to him: good. But, I realized, it was kind of the same for me. I’d never really experienced any hardship either, even though some things might’ve seemed like a big deal at the time. I thought about all the things Tara had said. She did have a point, I suppose; Graham and I weren’t actually going out. I thought about the endless amount of crap my mother would give me if I turned Parker down, if I didn’t even give him a chance. He wasn’t a

bad guy; I could tell that just by standing here talking with him these few minutes; hanging out with him wouldn’t be awful. We could go out and do something and then I could tell my mother—and Tara—that it hadn’t worked out and at least I had given it a shot. They couldn’t be upset over that. Plus, Parker would probably realize that I just wasn’t on his level, because, well, I wasn’t. “Fine,” I said. “We can hang out some time. What did you have in mind?”

Chapter Twenty-Three Graham Francesca was one of my long-term customers who came to the Cape every summer for a few weeks. She was married and worked as a model and a professional cyclist. And not just mountain biking; she did cyclocross, criteriums, and road races. She had a full sleeve on her left arm, a half-sleeve on her right, and we were currently working on a full back piece that was sort of a Salvador Dali/Edward Gorey mashup. With bikes. Ninety percent of Francesca’s tattoos were done by me, and she’d given me free reign to design the back piece, which had been a lot of fun. I was always happy to see her, and today was no different. Except, midway through our session, when she told me that she and her husband, Anthony, had called it quits. “We’re divorced,” she said. She was lying there on her stomach, her shirt off. I was working on an area on her mid/lower back, so she’d kept her bra on. She craned her neck around and gave me a devilish grin and a wink. “I know you’ve been waiting to hear those words. I’ve been waiting to say them to you.” “Oh boy, Franny,” I said. “You fuckin’ slay me.”

“I’ll be here for another two weeks. And then taking off for Les Gets. Care to join me?” “You know I’d love it, but I can’t.” “Well, you can at least keep me company in that big hotel room of mine.” Ah, timing. I smiled and shook my head ruefully. “Afraid I’m going to have to pass,” I said. She craned her neck further, a genuinely surprised look on her face. “Really?” “Really.” “Have you taken the cloth?” “No, definitely not becoming a priest. I met someone, actually.” “Ah.” She lay her head back down on her forearms. “That figures. So, it must be serious, then?” “Well, we haven’t known each other that long.” An image of Chloe appeared in my mind and I smiled. “Listen to you!” Francesca giggled. “I can hear how much you like her. That’s sweet. I’m happy for you, Graham. Disappointed for myself, naturally, but happy for you. You’ll have to introduce me.” “Sure,” I said. “Actually, no, don’t—I’ll just be jealous.” “You’re the worst,” I said, shaking my head. I got back to work. Before I’d met Chloe, I would’ve been all over the chance to sleep with Francesca. And now, here she was, basically offering herself to me and I just wasn’t interested. “You know,” I said, “if you’re looking for a little fun, I could pass my buddy’s number along to you. I think you might’ve met him here at the shop before, his name’s Todd ….”

Chapter Twenty-Four Chloe Parker surprised me, because instead of saying he wanted to go to some fancy restaurant or take his father’s boat out, he suggested we go to the county fair. “It’s only in town for another two days,” he said. “I’ve got a hankering for some fried dough. And it’s a great time to mingle with the locals.” He grinned and winked at me. I didn’t tell him I’d never been to the county fair, nor had I ever had fried dough. If anything, this whole summer was only making me realize how I basically had never done anything. The fair was packed. We parked in a grassy field and walked the short distance to the entrance. Parker paid for our entry and we stepped through the turnstile. There were people everywhere; families pushing strollers and holding the hands of young children, groups of rowdy teenagers, kids my age, and then plenty of adults, too, everyone with big smiles on their faces. The animal exhibits were just shutting down. “Oh, that’s too bad,” I said. “I wanted to see some of the animals.” “I should’ve gotten you here sooner,” Parker said. “Come on, let’s check it out; I’m sure they’ll let us see something.” We walked over, the smell of livestock pungent in the air. “I’m not so much into the animal aspect of the fair,” Parker said, wrinkling his nose. “But those guys are cute.” He nodded toward a group of Shetland ponies who were

ignoring us and eating from a pile of hay. “They’re kind of like big, shaggy dogs.” There were rabbits of all sizes in hutches, and chicks and roosters and chickens. “I think it’d be kind of fun to live on a farm,” I said, imagining what it would be like to get to see animals like this every single day. “It’d be a lot of work,” Parker said, stifling a yawn. “Every single day. Multiple times a day. My dad’s younger sister has a horse farm and she’s like, married to that shit. She has horses instead of children, basically.” We hung around the animal exhibit a little longer and then made our way to where all the rides, games, and food vendors were. The aroma changed from farm animals to greasy, fried food. The sky had just started to get dark. In the distance, I could hear shrieks of delight from one of the rides, a contraption made up of steel cages people sat in that flipped them through the air. Past that, the Ferris wheel was lit up, and moving at a more agreeable pace. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice the way basically every single girl we walked by checked Parker out, and then seemed to throw a disdainful look at me, as though they couldn’t believe he was choosing to be here with me. I looked at him and smiled, right as he let out a huge yawn. “Sorry,” he said, almost bashfully. “I’ve been more tired than usual. I blame my hectic training schedule.” “What are you training for?” “I race bikes.” “You do?” “Yeah. I’ve actually got a race coming up this weekend, not too far from here. It’s on a farm. Well, part of it is. Hey, you should come with me, if you want. There’s a ton of animals there, too, and we’d be there early enough for you to actually be able to see

them.” “That sounds pretty cool,” I said. “Great,” he said. “It’s on Sunday. We’ll need to get an early start, but it’ll be a nice drive. I’ll come pick you up at 8.”

Chapter Twenty-Five Graham I got a text from Todd around 6 in the morning, saying he’d gotten food poisoning and had spent the entire night in the bathroom, in front of the toilet. There was no way in hell he’d be able to ride today. Also: was this Francesca person who just texted him THE Francesca? And if so, why was the universe punishing him by giving him the runs the very night a hot chick gets in touch and wants to meet up? Yes, and, no fucking clue. But she’s in town for a little while, was my response. So, I made the drive out to the race myself. It did cross my mind to invite Chloe, but I figured she’d be busy working on her sculpture, and I’d feel bad leaving her by herself while I was riding. It would be for a few hours, at least, and even though there’d be other people there, she might find it boring. I didn’t have much trouble finding the farm where the race was being held at. It was one of those picturesque places, with red barns set amidst verdant green hills, dotted with black and white cows and fuzzy sheep. It was the epitome of wholesomeness, and everyone seemed be in a better-than-usual mood. Guys that normally completely ignored me smiled; a few even nodded or said hello. I was a little late, as usual, so I got my bike off the rack, found my helmet and sunglasses, and made sure I had a water bottle. I took a few warm up loops around an empty pasture that seemed to be reserved for just that. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky, but there wasn’t a touch of humidity in the air. It was just one of those spectacular days.

I was riding down to the starting line when I saw her. At first I thought it was just her doppelganger, and I even made the mental note to tell her that there happened to be a girl with an uncanny resemblance to her at the race today. But then she turned and her eyes met mine, and it was Chloe. And who was she standing next to? Parker. I rode over. The look of surprise on her face probably matched the one on my own. “Fancy seeing you here,” I said. Parker had been fiddling with his brake cable, but stopped when I approached. “Graham,” he said, not realizing that I’d been addressing Chloe. “You ready to get your ass handed to you today, my good man? I know this course is tough, but I’ve got my good luck charm here today.” Chloe stood there, her shoulders creeping up toward her ears, eyes darting from Parker to me and back again. I ignored Parker. “I didn’t realize you were into mountain bike racing,” I said to her. “I’m not really.” She couldn’t seem to hold my gaze. “I just … Parker just invited me along. I … I didn’t realize you were into it.” Now it was Parker’s turn to look confused. “Hold up—you two know each other?” I refrained from saying that yes, we knew each other, and not just in the Biblical sense. I didn’t say anything, because I wanted Chloe to answer. She held her arm out. “He gave me this tattoo,” she said. Parker barely even glanced at it. “Oh. Yeah, Graham here’s a man of many talents.” There was a strange tension building in my chest. I’d never considered myself a jealous person, but I wanted nothing more than to demand to know what the hell she was doing here with Parker, of all people. Was this some sort of joke?

But I wasn’t going to let either of them see me rattled like that. I could keep a cool exterior regardless of how I was feeling on the inside, and that was exactly what I intended to do right now. “Right. Well, see you guys,” I said, and I pedaled off before either could say anything else. ***** I wanted to completely eradicate every single thing I was feeling; fortunately, a bike race was a great place to do exactly that. I didn’t want to be like Kurt and end up doing something stupid. I also couldn’t really remember ever feeling like this, maybe because none of the other girls I’d been with in the past I’d liked this much. I’d certainly never entertained the idea of being in a real relationship with any of them—not the way I had with Chloe. But I kept seeing her, standing there with Parker, and there was a part of me that knew they looked right together. There was some part of me that actually understood that shit my mother had been saying to me. Yeah, I’m sure Chloe’s parents would much rather see her with a guy like him than me. I couldn’t focus. Every time I tried to, I kept thinking about her with him. I pedaled harder, faster, but the thoughts were overpowering and refused to be ignored. And I didn’t want to feel like this. I kept pushing it harder and harder, going into corners too fast, not using the brakes when I should, passing people in really precarious areas. I didn’t run anyone off the trail, but I came close a few times. I also wiped out in the rock garden, bailed a few times over some roots, and mistimed my approach when bunny-hopping a big log most people dismounted to get over. I didn’t care, because the pain felt good and was at least a distraction from my thoughts.

And despite all these falls, I somehow ended up finishing the race first. ***** After the race, I felt battered and sore, and I sure as hell would be hurting tomorrow when I woke up. Not just fatigued muscles, but bruises, scrapes, and a couple lacerations that had dripped blood down my calves and into my socks. I didn’t care. I threw my bike into the bed of the truck instead of putting it on the rack. I was about to get in when I saw Chloe. “Hey,” she said, her voice nervous. “Are you okay?” My throat felt like it had closed up. “Yeah,” I finally managed to say. “Tough course out there today.” “You’re bleeding.” “It looks worse than it actually is.” “Oh.” We both stood there, not saying anything. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.” “I know,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you either. I didn’t know you did these things.” “This is the second time I’ve come across you out with another guy.” She opened her mouth to say something but then stopped, a confused expression on her face. “Huh? Second time?” “I saw you at a restaurant with some other guy,” I said, not caring that I was bringing it up now. “I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” “I … I don’t even know who you’re talking about. A guy? When? Where?” “I don’t know,” I snapped. “And it really doesn’t even matter. Except that I’m now

running into you again, with another guy! Who I happen to know, and who I think is a total douchebag.” “I didn’t do anything with him,” she said. “It’s not like that.” She had that hurt expression on her face, the same one the first night I met her when I told her I wasn’t going to give her a tattoo. The thing was, I believed her. But I could also still hear my mother’s voice, insisting how different people like Parker and Chloe, and my father, were from us. “It’s fine if you do,” I said. “Feel free. Enjoy.” I didn’t wait for her to respond; I just got in the truck and drove away. ***** I took a detour on the way home and just ended up driving, the road unfurling in front of me in a straight line. By the time I’d finally made it back onto the Cape, I’d decided I’d just break it off with Chloe. Whatever “it” was. I pulled my phone out of the glove box. I wasn’t going to text or call her now; I would let her know in person. I kept one eye on the road and the other on my phone as I scrolled through the names, looking for Francesca.

Chapter Twenty-Six Chloe Graham took off before I had the chance to say what I really wanted to. I’d spent the entire duration of the race trying to think of just what the right thing to say would be, because I knew some sort of explanation was in order. Even though nothing had happened between me and Parker, and wasn’t going to. But I knew the second I saw him by his truck that he wasn’t going to be interested in hearing whatever it was I had to say. When Parker came over to me, I was still just standing there in the same spot, looking in the direction that Graham’s truck had gone even though it had long disappeared. “Hey,” Parker said. He’d changed out of his bike clothes and had a polo shirt and a pair of shorts on, but he looked worn out, his hair still slick with sweat, mud spatters dotting his cheeks. “So, how is it you know Graham?” I turned away and forced a smile. “You know,” I said, “I don’t actually. I don’t really know him at all.” ***** It seemed as though no one could wait to hear how my outing with Parker had been; on the drive back from the race, my mother kept texting me, asking how it was going, and then Tara got in on the text action, saying that if I got back in time, we should go out to dinner, but not to worry if I was going to be out all night …. “I’m normally way more energetic after a race,” Parker said, “and I usually like to go

swimming or out to eat or whatever, but I am wiped.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “So, you mind if I just drop you off back at your place?” “That’s totally fine,” I said. He smothered another yawn. “Maybe you should go take a nap. I know if I had to do a race like that, I’d probably sleep for a week. Well, I doubt I’d actually even be able to finish.” “You get used to it,” he said. Neither of us had said anything about Graham coming in first. Graham himself didn’t look like he even gave a shit, and he left before the they’d handed out the medals, so the highest step on the podium had been empty. “Although, I’m feeling much less used to it than normal. I swear—I know it probably just sounds like a bunch of lame excuses—but I really am usually feeling so much better after a race.” My mother was sitting out front in one of the Adirondack chairs, with a glass of iced tea and a book. I was sure to Parker it looked like a completely normal scenario, but she had moved that chair from the backyard to the front, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her sitting outside with a book. “Oh!” she said, putting the book down and waving. “Don’t feel like you have to stay and mingle,” I said. He was already getting out of the car. “I can at least get out and say hello.” “How was it? Did you have fun? Look at the two of you!” My mother sounded like she was about to burst with excitement. “Well, it was a rather poor showing on my part,” Parker said. “It certainly wasn’t my best race.” “That’s okay!” my mother exclaimed. “Why, I’m so impressed that you’re even out there to begin with! Now, how many miles was it?” “Thirty-two.”

“Now, that is just super human!” She widened her eyes and looked at me. “Could you imagine that, Chloe? Riding a bike for 32 miles? And not just 32 miles, but 32 miles over rough terrain, am I right? It’s not on pavement, now, is it?” “You’re exactly right,” Parker said, and my mother beamed. I smiled wanly. “Anyway, Mom, Parker was just saying how tired he is, so he’s going to head home,” I said. “Oh, really? Would you like to come in first? Have some lemonade?” “Mom, we’ve been driving for a while and he’s had a long day.” Ew, she was like, totally enamored with him. “Next time,” Parker said. “Chloe’s right; I just want to get home and take a shower and maybe a nap.” “Okay, then. I’ll just give you two a minute. Nice to see you Parker, looking forward to seeing you again!” She hurried off, not back to her chair though, but inside, leaving the two of us standing there. “Errr, sorry about all that,” I said. “What, your mom?” He shrugged. “She seems nice. Anyway. Thanks for keeping me company today, I had a good time.” He started to turn for the car door, but then hesitated. He came over to me and we both just stood there. “Well,” I said. “Thanks for—” He leaned down and kissed me, just a peck, not like a real kiss, but I turned my head at the last second and he ended up kissing the side of my face, but not my cheek, but lower, almost my jaw.

I felt my face starting to get hot, but he seemed completely unbothered. “I’ll see ya around,” he said. And then he got in his car and drove away. ***** The last thing I wanted was to be interrogated by my mother about what our day had been like, so I texted Tara back and said I could meet up with her. She said she was melting in this heat and wanted an iced latte, so we agreed to meet down at the local coffee shop, Staccato. We sat at one of the outside tables, under the umbrella, sipping our iced lattes. “Spill,” Tara said. “All the details. Tell me.” I grimaced. “It’s not as awesome as you think. I think I really messed up.” She looked at me curiously. “Uh-oh. What happened?” “What happened is we ended up seeing Graham. At the bike race. I had no idea that I’d run into him there. I mean, what are the chances?” “What was he doing at the bike race?” “He was in it! He was doing the race. I had no idea.” “So how’d that go?” “He wasn’t psyched.” “You had no way of knowing he’d be there; it’s not your fault. You weren’t doing anything wrong.” Tara shrugged. “Am I missing something here? What is the problem? I mean, it’s not like he walked in on you guys doing it, did he?” “No, nothing has happened between us!” I yelped. “I agreed to go to the county fair, because he came to my house and asked me and my mother was right there and if I said no, I’d never hear the end of it from her. We had fun, but it wasn’t like this great romance between us or anything. And then he asked me about the bike race and it just seemed like

something else fun to do, and I just agreed without really thinking about it.” “Because you did nothing wrong. You just need to talk to Graham. If he’s bothered seeing you with someone else, that means he actually likes you.” “Or does that mean he’s really possessive and controlling?” Tara frowned, thinking. “Controlling is not good, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a little possessive.” “I guess I just don’t know the rules for all of this. I mean, do I assume we’re going out because we slept together?” “Oh, hell no! No, you do not. The whole relationship topic is actually a conversation you have to have, whether or not you guys are boyfriend/girlfriend or just casual, or what. I mean, assuming is all well and good until one person assumes one thing and the other person assumes the exact opposite. Just look at me and Michael! I assumed that everything was fine between us and he was probably thinking about that other girl! If he had actually grown a pair and talked to me about this before just going out and sticking his dick in the first pretty thing that caught his eye, then we might have been able to salvage our relationship. I think you just need to talk to Graham. Just be a mature adult.” “The other thing this made me realize was that Graham and I don’t even really know each other that well. If we did, I would’ve known that racing bikes was an interest of his. But I had no clue.” “I’m hearing a lot more about Graham than I am about Parker. How’d it go with him? Did he wear Spandex? God, he must’ve looked good.” “He tried to kiss me when he dropped me off.” “Oh my God! Tried? What happened?” “Well, no, I guess he did kiss me, but I turned my head and he ended up kissing me

here.” I gestured to the lower part of my face. “It was actually kind of awkward. Except he didn’t seem that bothered by it. Is he just one of those people that is completely unbothered by that sort of thing? Like, he’s that confident? I’d be mortified if I tried to kiss someone and they turned their head at the last second. But he didn’t seem phased.” Tara pursed her lips around the straw of the latte and nodded. “Yeah, I could totally see someone like him being like that. Which is kind of an awesome way to be, if you think about it. I totally hear what you’re saying—I’d be freaking out and obsessing over it for days too, if I tried to kiss someone and they turned away like that—but maybe it’s better that he’s just, you know, not freaking out over it.” “It doesn’t really matter.” “Well, what matters,” she said, “is why you turned your head. Um, hello? When someone like Parker goes to kiss you, you don’t turn your head.” “But I wasn’t hanging out with him because I wanted us to kiss.” “Why were you hanging out with him then?” “Honestly? To get my mother off my case. I figured if we hung out a couple of times, I could tell her that I’d done it and it wasn’t going to work out and she should just leave me alone about it because she clearly sucks at matchmaking.” Tara smiled. “I think it’s kind of cute that she’s being so proactive about it.” “You’re giving her way too much credit; she’s not being proactive, she’s being a pain in the ass. Anyway. I mean, yeah, I admit that there was a little part of me that was kind of in disbelief that I was even hanging out with Parker to begin with, but you know what? He’s just a guy. Yeah, he’s better-looking than a lot of guys, but he’s just, you know, a person. And we had fun, but I like Graham. I would’ve rather gone to the race with Graham than with Parker.” Tara sighed. “If only I had your problem,” she said. “Trying to decide which gorgeous guy

to spend my time with. Well, Chloe, it sounds like you just need to go talk to Graham, then.” “I know, you’re right.” And she was. But I wanted to think of exactly what I would say first, because I wanted him to understand that this whole situation was not at all what he probably thought it was. ***** I’d have this talk with him in person, I decided, but I texted to see if there was a time he wanted to meet up. A whole day, and then another, went by without a response. I sent him a second text. Wasn’t sure if you got my first message, but I’d like to see you. When is a good time to meet up? Or should I just ambush you at the shop again? I hesitated and then added a smiley face before I pressed send, not wanting that last part to come across as a threat. Still no response. I tried not to feel annoyed. And then that annoyance turned into anxiety. I texted once more, no words this time, just a question mark. Still, nothing. From Graham, anyway. Parker had texted the day after the race and asked if I wanted to take his dad’s boat out and hang out on Pleasant Bay. He said he was feeling much better and felt that he needed to make up for the other day and show me a good time. And boating on Pleasant Bay actually sounded like fun, but I told him I was pretty busy working on my sculpture project for the next few days. No worries, he wrote back, almost immediately. I’ll be in touch! I sighed, wishing that it was Graham who was so prompt in responding and eager to

hang out, not Parker.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Graham Is this a booty call? That was what Francesca texted back to me when I asked her if she wanted to come by the shop. Because if I remember correctly, my next appointment with u isn’t scheduled until next week. I couldn’t think of anything witty to reply. I just wanted to have the kind of sex that didn’t involve a lot of talking or verbal foreplay. Something like that, I wrote back. I might be able to oblige u. Am actually in ur ‘hood. Be by soon. I almost didn’t respond, but then typed a quick: OK. I was at work. I was at work and there was always the possibility that a customer could walk in, though it was mid-afternoon and that was generally our slowest time. Even so, I didn’t actually give a shit. Besides, I was the boss here, so I could—within reason— do whatever I wanted. And right now, this was what I wanted to do. A few minutes later, I heard the door open. I looked up, fully expecting it to be Francesca. It wasn’t though—it was Chloe. She’d been texting me ever since the race and I hadn’t gotten back to her. Not because I was trying to play immature games or anything, but because I knew she’d want to talk,

and try to explain this whole thing with Parker, and then I’d probably have to end up telling her that this summer was supposed to be about shit being drama-free and that just wasn’t happening so far. “Hi,” she said, walking over to the counter. “I … I was texting you but I hadn’t heard anything back. So I’m stopping by. Because I need to talk to you about something, and I wanted to do it in person.” “Okay,” I said, because I wasn’t just going to demand she leave. I could at least hear her out. I just hoped that Francesca wasn’t going to show up while she was still here. “I’ll listen to whatever it is you have to say, but make it quick because I’ve got another customer coming any second.” She took a deep breath, like she was about to start reciting something in front of a classroom. “Look,” she said. “I’m really sorry if it caught you off guard, seeing me at the race with Parker. Like I said, nothing has happened between us, and I guess I just really don’t know the rules for how you’re supposed to be when you’re seeing someone.” Her face started to get red. “But that’s just the thing—I didn’t know if we’re actually seeing each other. Like, I know we’re sleeping together but … but what else does that mean?” “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but it really doesn’t have to mean anything. As in, it’s fine if you want to hang out with Parker, or whoever you want.” “It’s just so confusing.” “It doesn’t have to be.” The thing was—she was right, it was confusing, but we were confused for different reasons. I just wasn’t used to feeling like this toward someone, and it kind of scared me, not that I would ever actually admit that out loud. It wasn’t just that Chloe was attractive —I’d been with plenty of hot girls before and hadn’t had feelings like this. It was more

like I wanted to be with her, not just for sex, but because I liked being around her. Some guys might welcome that sort of feeling, but for me it was foreign, completely unexpected, and not entirely comfortable. In other words, something that I just didn’t want to deal with right now. So, I tuned her out. She was still talking, and I was standing there, looking at her, nodding every once in a while, but I wasn’t actually hearing any of what she was saying. And then I saw Francesca pull up and park, right out front of the shop. She came breezing in, a big smile on her face. She was wearing an incredibly short pair of shorts, showing off those long, muscular legs of hers, and a black tank top that was just short enough to show off the thinnest strip of her toned midriff. “Hey there, handsome,” she said. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.” She looked at Chloe. “I’ll just wait in your office until you’re done with your customer.” She sauntered off, and though she didn’t say exactly why it was she was there, it was pretty clear. Chloe watched her go, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. “Who’s that?” she asked softly. “That? No one. She’s a customer. And a friend of mine.” “Oh.” She nodded slowly, biting at her lower lip. She kept looking toward the back, as though she was expecting Francesca to reappear and explain exactly who she was to me. “I think I’ll go.” There was a part of me that wanted to stop her, that wanted to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought it was—even if it kind of was. But I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and watched her walk out of the shop, and even when she turned and looked at me as the door was closing behind her, I still didn’t say anything. Francesca was out back in my office, waiting for me, and Chloe was walking out, after telling me she was sorry. And

here I was, standing in the middle of it, feeling like shit. ***** Francesca was stretched out on the chaise lounge, looking like she was about to indulge in a late morning nap. She opened one eye when I came in. “I feel like such a harlot,” she said. “But I kind of like it.” I leaned against the side of my desk and looked at her. “I think I called you down here for no reason,” I said. “I’m not … I’ve got to get to work.” “On that customer out there? I can wait.” “She’s not … never mind. No, she left. I’ve got some other work I need to do. I’m just not … it’s just not a good idea.” Of course I felt like a complete asshole, having called her to come down here, and now here I was, changing my mind. But … no. I just couldn’t, not because part of me didn’t want to, but because I just didn’t want to invite anymore bullshit into my life. Francesca raised her eyebrows and gave me the are you fucking kidding me? look, then she let out a long sigh and sat up. “Can I give you a little advice?” she said. “Sure, why not.” “Get your head straightened out. You don’t know if you’re coming or going.” A slightly cynical smile crossed her face. “Well. You’re not coming, we know that. I’ll see you later, Graham.” And then she left, too, much in the same manner Chloe had. ***** After they were both gone, I tried to find something to busy myself with, but Helena

had closed up last night and left the shop in good shape. I didn’t want a customer to come in; I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do any tattooing at the moment. The last thing I probably needed was a coffee, but I didn’t care; I needed something, and I wasn’t about to start drinking on the job. I stepped outside into the hot, humid air and locked the door behind me. There were several cafes to choose from within walking distance, but I chose the closest one, despite it being trendy and probably overrun with tourists. Inside, the air conditioner was blasting and the air was icy. I grabbed my coffee from the counter and turned, almost bumping into Tara, who was looking down, tapping away at her phone. “Oh,” she said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Hey.” She looked back down at her phone and then up at me. “I was just texting with Chloe. She said she just tried to go and talk with you.” It was hard to read the expression on her face; I couldn’t tell if she was about to just turn around and ignore me or try to throw that frothy iced drink of hers in my face. “But before I leave,” she continued, “I see an empty table over there; will you come sit over there with me for a minute?” We went over to the table and sat down. “So, obviously I don’t know all the details yet of what happened, but I feel like the two of you are kind of amateurs about this whole thing.” I raised my eyebrows. “What?” “Chloe is because you’re really the only guy she’s ever been with, but you—you might have been with a lot of women before, but I can tell that you’ve never really done the whole relationship thing, am I right?” “Never felt compelled to.”

“Until now.” She gave me an even look. I took a sip of my coffee, not fully wanting to answer that statement. “Not that I’m trying to make up excuses or anything, but I never had that positive, loving relationship modeled for me as a kid. My mother isn’t someone who you’d nominate for any mom of the year awards, I can guarantee you that. And my stepfather and I never got along.” “What about your dad? He not in the picture?” “No. Definitely not in the picture. So, it always just seemed like a smart idea to steer clear of any relationships, and just stick to the casual stuff.” “Which is all well and good until you meet someone you actually like.” I thought back to Danielle. We were supposed to just be casual, but then she said she’d fallen for me. It was a fine line, I was realizing, one that up until this point I’d always done a good job of navigating, but now I seemed to have found myself on the other side. “It just seems like you’re denying yourself something that you actually want,” Tara said. “I mean, I can tell you like Chloe. Pretty much anyone can—all they have to do is see you guys together. So, maybe just stop being afraid and go for it. You don’t really strike me as the type of guy that would let fear hold him back from anything.” “I’m usually not. Which is why this is kind of throwing me for a loop.” “Listen,” Tara said. “You should just talk to her, okay? Just go over there. You probably don’t know where she lives, do you? Here, I’ll tell you. It’s not that difficult to find.” She grabbed one of the napkins from the holder and pulled a pen from her purse. She wrote down the address and then slid the napkin across the table. I took it and looked

down at her bubble print. “Just use Google maps if you don’t know where it is,” she said. “Well! I’m glad we got that out of the way. Now, there’s one more thing that I wanted to talk to you about.” “I really should get back to the shop.” “Okay, okay. This will only take a minute. I don’t know if Chloe mentioned this to you, but I had … I had posted a picture of you on Facebook.” “Why would you do that?” “I took it down. It was only up for like a day. Maybe two. I didn’t put your name or anything, and you could barely even see your face anyway. So you don’t have to feel too violated or anything. But, I am sorry.” I shrugged. “It’s fine. I actually do have a Facebook page. Well, it’s for the shop, but I log on there sometimes. Customers like to post pictures of their tattoos, and Helena says it would look bad if we didn’t at least ‘like’ the post. I’m not one of those people who’s completely paranoid about social media.” “Oh.” She brightened. “So would you care if I reposted those pictures?” “Why do you want to post a picture of me?” “Because you’re hot. And because I’m trying to make someone else jealous.” “I see. You think that’s a smart idea?” “Seeing as he left me for someone else, hell yeah, I do. Especially because I was actually considering spending the rest of my life with this person. Not to mention that we’d talked about this, like, had many conversations. All the while he’s planning on leaving me. I mean, who would do something like that?” “You’re a little young to be settling down with someone, aren’t you?” “People settle down all the time. I know some girls my age are having babies and

shit.” “Yeah, but not you. You don’t seem the type. At least not for a long time, anyway. And let me tell you this: I might not know a lot about being in a relationship with someone, but I have seen what jealousy can do to a person, and it ain’t pretty. If your ex is out there having a good time, I’d let it go if I were you.” She gave me a patient smile, as though I had no clue what I was talking about. “Right, but Michael always comes out on top, you see. He thinks he can get away with anything.” “Then maybe you should just let him keep on thinking that.” “If I was a nice girl, maybe I would—but I’m not. Or if he had actually been up front with how he felt, I’d probably be a little more gracious about the whole thing, but I really can’t stand that shit. Especially considering we were together for almost two and a half years. That’s a long time to spend with someone just to have them decide one day that they’re completely over you, despite having just told you recently that you were going to spend the rest of your lives together.” “Fair enough.” “Anyway, enough about that whole situation. Take a day or two to think about it if you want, but talk to Chloe. Okay?” I nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight Chloe I tried not to think about him. I tried to keep myself preoccupied. Down at the art center, I worked on my sculpture, but now, everything seemed all wrong. I sat on the stool and remembered him there, next to me. I remembered the day after we’d had sex, how emboldened I’d felt when he’d shown up here, how I’d just decided to give him a blow job, even though I’d never done something like that before. And yes, a part of me had been nervous, had been afraid that it would be obvious I had no clue what I was doing, or he’d tell me to stop or that I wasn’t doing it right. But then I started doing it and it hadn’t seemed that difficult, and I could tell he liked it—a lot. And I wanted to keep doing those sorts of things with him, but now it seemed like that might’ve been the last time, and I didn’t even really know what had happened. I rested my forearms on the work table and then put my head down on my arms. There was a tightness in my chest and an ache in my throat and I felt like I needed to do something but I didn’t know what. It was an awful feeling, actually, wanting to go back in time and do something differently to make the current situation somehow different. But I’d gone down there and tried to talk to him, and he hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. And then that woman had walked in, who was about a thousand times hotter than I could ever hope to be. Neither of them had to say anything—it was pretty obvious what was going to happen. Was this what dating people was all about? All this fucking drama and turmoil and shitty feelings? I thought about Tara and all the shit she was going through with Michael, whom she

wasn’t with anymore. Maybe I hadn’t really missed anything, not going out with anyone when I was in high school. Because I sure as hell didn’t like feeling like this. I picked my head up. The first part of the mermaid tail was on the table in front of me; I’d been adding detail to the fin and liked how it was coming out, but I reached out and grabbed it and squeezed, feeling the damp clay give beneath my hands. I kept squeezing, squashing it back into a formless lump. ***** I went home not long after that because I was just getting frustrated. That’s how it worked with art—sometimes you could channel all your frustrations and anger and anxiety and whatever other negative feelings you were experiencing into productive energy; other times it just crippled you. Nothing productive was happening for me today and I could overhear other people laughing and talking about their works-in-progress and everyone sounded like they were having such a good time that I decided I should just go home. But I couldn’t even find any respite there. I went upstairs to my room and lay down on my bed. A nap might be good. No sooner had I shut my eyes, though, when there was a soft knock on the door. Before I could even respond, the door opened and my mother breezed in. “Are you not feeling well?” she asked, perching at the edge of my bed. “I’m not sick.” “You don’t usually lie down during the day, though. Just catching up on a little beauty rest?” “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” “Is that really all that’s going on?” she asked. “You look so glum. Is everything all right? Are you having a hard time with your art project?”

“I’m fine,” I snapped. I knew she was just trying to help, but I hated how trite she made it sound by saying “art project.” She gave me a surprised look. “Well, you don’t sound fine. Is there something you want to talk about? Talking about it helps sometimes, you know.” “It’s …” I hesitated, part of me insisting that I not elaborate any further, but a larger part of me wanting to just talk to someone about it. My mother waited, looking at me expectantly. “I just like someone, is all. Or liked someone, and I don’t think he feels the same way. And, as you’re so fond of reminding me, I don’t have much experience when it comes to dating, so I’m not used to feeling like this. I don’t think I actually like it much, to be honest.” My mother patted my leg. “Oh, Chloe, I’m sorry to hear that you’re feeling like this. I remember all too well what it was like to be interested in someone and not have the feeling reciprocated. It’s not a great feeling; you’re right.” It was the first time in quite a while that I could recall saying something about how I truly felt and having my mother just agree with me. I turned my head and looked at her. “Thank you for saying that.” “But that’s just the way it goes. You’ve got to risk feeling bad because if you don’t, you’ll miss out on all the opportunities that you have to feel great. And sometimes things don’t always work out how we want them to. But that’s okay—it’s a learning experience.” “I know. I’m not trying to be dramatic. I just thought … I don’t know what I thought. I guess I realize that I have no clue about any of this.” “That’s no reason to give up or get discouraged. Sweetheart, you’re young. You’re beautiful. But more importantly, you’re a good person and you’ve got a kind heart. There is no doubt in my mind that you will meet someone—the right person for you. You will. This guy that you’re talking about—how well did you really know him? He just doesn’t

sound like your type. And you may not want to hear this, but I know you better than anyone else. I’m your mom, after all. And I know that the right person is out there for you. Like Parker. How is everything going with him?” “Nothing is going on between us.” “Well, you went to that … what was it? A bike thing?” “A bike race.” She smiled. “Right. The bike race. You went to that with him, and it sounded like you guys had a fun time. When are you going to see him again?” “I really don’t know, Mom. He’s been bugging me to hang out this week and I told him that I was busy. Because I am.” She waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure you could find some time to see him. Even to just grab a quick bite to eat?” “Why are you so intent on me seeing him?” “Because he’s a good kid! From a good family! Just like you. I can tell that you want to be dating, and I’m trying to encourage that. I want that for you. You don’t think that I want to see you unhappy like this, do you?” “No, of course not.” “Well good, because I don’t! In fact, I’ve got a great idea. Let’s go do something fun. Just the two of us. We’ve hardly spent any time together and the summer is halfway over. It’s a gorgeous day; there’s no reason for you to spend it moping in your bedroom.” She sounded so enthusiastic about it that I couldn’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe I did just need a change of scenery, something to get my mind off of Graham, and the fact that when it came to dating, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. *****

We drove up to Provincetown, which someone in college had once told me was the “gayest city in the U.S.,” even though it wasn’t actually a city. It was a funky little seaside town, the very tip of Cape Cod, an artist’s enclave, as well as a mecca for all things gay. Just a fun spot, overall, though for my mother, certainly a bit out of her comfort zone. “Oh, my,” she said under her breath. Two, well-muscled men, wearing little more than leather thongs and flip-flops, walked by us, holding hands. We passed by another man dressed as a woman, in a long sequined evening gown and impossibly high heels. My mother’s eyes widened even further. “Let’s go in here,” she said, tugging me into a restaurant we were walking by. “I heard this place is supposed to be pretty good, actually.” “Sure,” I said. The restaurant had a distinctly European feel: minimalist décor, everything very modern. We were seated on high stools at a round table for two. “Abigail will be right over to take your drink order,” the hostess—who may have actually been a man—told us. “Great,” my mother said, and we both began looking at the menus. Abigail turned out to be a pretty girl with a pierced nose and very short, spiky hair, dyed bright pink. Except in the front, she had left her hair long and had side-swept bangs. Both her arms were covered in colorful tattoos, from her shoulders all the way down to the backs of her hands. I tried not to think about Graham. “Now that’s quite the look,” my mother whispered to me after she’d taken our order. “I kind of like it,” I said. “She doesn’t have to worry about brushing her hair every morning.” “Now,” my mother said. “Let’s talk about something nice, shall we? How is your sculpture project coming along?”

“Uh … it’s okay,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her that it actually wasn’t coming along at all. “Your father and I will come to the opening. I want you to know that. It’s important to us that we be there and see what you’ve been working on.” “Great,” I said, feeling even worse about the whole thing. I just had to not think about that right now, either. There didn’t seem to be anything safe to think about. I started ripping my napkin into little bits, wishing that I had just stayed at home in bed.

Chapter Twenty-Nine Graham I decided to do what Tara said—I’d give it a few days before I got in touch with Chloe. Maybe I’d even decide that I didn’t feel like talking to her after those few days had passed, which was nothing more than wishful thinking. I couldn’t, in fact, seem to get her out of my mind. I had her address; I’d go over to her house and talk to her. I’d tell her I was sorry and that I hadn’t really felt like this toward someone before and I didn’t quite know how to handle that. Maybe that sounded lame, but it was the truth. If she wanted to know what happened between me and Francesca, I’d tell her that too: absolutely nothing. My phone rang as I was pouring my first cup of coffee of the day. I looked at the screen. My mother. “Something is up with my car again,” my mother said. “Are you at work?” “No, I’ve got the day off.” “Oh, good! So you can come down there. Can you come down here now?” “Just because I’m not going into work doesn’t mean I’m just sitting around on my ass— I’ve got things I need to do.” “It will just be a few minutes, sweetie, please?” “There’s no one there who can help you? I find that hard to believe.” “If you left your house now, you’d be here in under five minutes. I think it just needs a jump again.”

“It sounds like you need to invest in a new battery if it’s going to keep dying.” “Yes, I know. And I will. But for now, will you just come down here?” I should’ve known better, but I agreed. ***** My mother was sitting on the hood of her car, smoking a cigarette. Another woman that I didn’t recognize stood next to her. “See, that hardly took you any time at all,” my mother said. “Now, come over here; I want you to meet Charlotte.” She grabbed me by my forearm and pulled me over. “Charlotte, this is my son Graham. Isn’t he as handsome as I told you? Graham, this is Charlotte.” “Hey,” I said. Charlotte smiled. She was one of those women that might have been pretty, but it was hard to tell because she put so much makeup on. “Your mom’s told me a lot about you.” “I can just imagine,” I said. “I don’t really have time to chat, though; I’m just here to jump start that piece of shit car. Again.” “I have to go get something inside, I’ll be right back!” my mother exclaimed. She turned and hurried off before I could say anything. “So,” Charlotte said. “I guess this is where I’m supposed to ask what you out.” I looked at her. “Huh?” “Your mom said you were single, and she thought … she thought we might hit it off. But we won’t know that if we don’t go out, right? I just got out of a relationship myself, actually. Well, we broke up a while ago, but this is the first time I’ve really felt like getting

back out there on the dating scene. It’s because—” “Hold up,” I said. “I think you might have the wrong idea here. I came down because my mother said her car needed a jump.” Charlotte smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid not.” “Right. I get it. Listen, I’m sure you’re a very nice person, but you can’t listen to my mother, okay? I shouldn’t have listened to her—if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now, on my day off.” “I think she was just trying to be helpful.” “Oh, I’m sure she was. Just like I’m sure there’s nothing she actually needed to go get inside, but just wanted to give us a little alone time to arrange our date tonight.” Charlotte laughed. “Janice has good intentions.” “Well, I think I’m going to take off before she comes back out here. You can tell her I appreciate her efforts at playing matchmaker, but I’d prefer to let these things happen a little more naturally.” “I completely understand.” “Great.” I started to get into my truck. “Good luck, though,” I said. “And do yourself a favor—don’t listen to what my mother says anymore.” Since I was already out, I decided I’d just drive over to Chloe’s. That would keep me from thinking about the fact that my mother was batshit crazy and that I’d never in a million years go out with someone from The Finery. I put Chloe’s address into the GPS and found it pretty easily. They stayed in a place that was right by the ocean, of course. I knew Chloe came from a wealthy family, but I hadn’t been expecting this. The

house was fucking huge. She lived here? My place must’ve seemed like a shoebox to her. I parked my truck at the end of the long driveway, which wasn’t paved but covered in crushed, white seashells. The lawn was a brilliant green and perfectly manicured, like it should’ve been a putting green. There were elegant flower beds and a brick walkway that led up to a Cape-style house. Except it was more like five or six houses that were combined all into one. Three people lived here? Insane. I went up to the front door and knocked. “Just a minute!” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere back in the house. She appeared a moment later, a tall woman with similar features to Chloe. The expression on her changed when she saw me though, from open friendliness to guarded skepticism. “Who are you?” she asked. “This is a private residence.” She stood behind the door, as though using it for a shield. Was she serious? Did she think I was about to pull out a knife or something and demand that she give me all of her money? I had to stifle a laugh. “Does Chloe live here?” I asked. The woman hesitated. “Why are you asking?” “I just wanted to talk to her. I mean, I know she lives here because I see her car right over there.” I gestured behind me and the woman looked as though she didn’t believe me. “What’s your name?” “Graham. Graham Walker.” “Chloe isn’t available to speak to you right now. Or ever, really. I don’t know who you are, Mr. Walker, or what exactly you might want with my daughter, but I think it’s best you just forget about it. I’m not sure how else to phrase this, but … you’re not the type of person my husband or I would like our daughter to be fraternizing with. I

apologize for putting it so bluntly, but I just want us to be clear here.” She had stepped out from behind the door and was looking at me boldly, as if challenging me to contradict her. “Excuse me?” I said. Her mother looked over her shoulder, as if she’d heard something behind her. She stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her. “You can’t come here and try to intimidate me,” she said. I held up my hands. “Ma’am, I am not trying to—” “And don’t ‘ma’am’ me. Don’t act like you’re this refined person, because you are so clearly not. Listen, I am not trying to insult you.” I laughed. “Oh, really?” “I know it might seem that way, but I’m not—Chloe’s father and I just want what’s best for her, which I hope you can understand.” “And I’m not what’s best for her. You know this how?” “Look. We don’t have to turn this into something that it’s not. I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Chloe, if anything at all. But you are not the right person for her.” “You don’t even know me.” “You’re right, I don’t. But I don’t need to. Chloe is a good girl who might be a little confused about things. And I’m not trying to say that you yourself aren’t a decent person, but you are not the type of person that she’s going to end up with. You showing up unannounced at the house like this is entirely inappropriate, might I add.” I was having a hard time believing that I was actually hearing all this. I kept waiting

for her to start to laugh and say it was a joke, but there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised because I knew many of the rich summer residents thought like this. Most wouldn’t actually have the balls to come out and say it, but Chloe’s mom didn’t seem to have any qualms about it. “She’s not going to come out here and talk to you. I think it’d be best if you just went on your way. And please don’t try to get in touch with her again.” She stepped back into the house and looked at me once more before firmly shutting the door in my face. Right. Okay, then.

Chapter Thirty Chloe I watched from my bedroom window as he got into his truck and drove away. I could only imagine what my mother had said to him. Actually, I didn’t even want to know. But he had driven out here, presumably to see me. Tara must’ve given him the address. I’d been working hard to put him out of my mind, but even just seeing him through the window like that made me realize that he really wasn’t someone I just wanted to forget about. There was something more there. ***** I drove by the shop first but didn’t see his truck, so then, I went over to his house. He was home, and I felt a mixture of relief and anticipation building in my chest as I got out of the car. I tapped on the wooden frame of the screen door. I could hear him moving around in there, and then a second later, he appeared, the surprise apparent on his face. “Chloe,” he said. I stepped back so he could open the door. “Come on in. If you want,” he added. “I do want to.” I went inside. “I saw that you had stopped by earlier. I was upstairs, but I could see you from the window. Talking to my mom.” “Yeah. That didn’t go so well.” “That’s why I didn’t come down. We would’ve just gotten into a huge fight and I

didn’t feel like it. But whatever she said to you—I’m sorry. And I hope you know that I don’t actually feel that way.” He nodded. “You know, I’m really glad to hear that. And just so you know, nothing happened between me and Francesca that day. It could have—but it didn’t.” “Well, thank you. That makes me happy to hear it.” I smiled and took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And at first I felt like I didn’t know what I wanted to say, but I realized that I actually do know exactly what I want to say. And that is that I like you. More than just a friend, way more than I like Parker, probably more than I’ve actually liked anyone before, ever. Which might seem kind of crazy seeing as we don’t even know each other that well, but I don’t care—I want to get to know you better. I want to spend time with you. Other people can think whatever they want, but it’s not their life. I’m all done doing things just because someone else thinks that’s what I should do.” “Chloe,” he said, rubbing the lower part of his face. When he took his hand away, he was smiling. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. I feel the same way.” I grinned. “Well. Imagine that.” “So, you knew that your parents were going to have an issue with us,” he said. “That’s why you brought up keeping it a secret that time at Lorraine’s.” I nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think it would be this bad, though. I didn’t realize they’re such elitist assholes.” He pulled me toward him and brushed a few wisps of hair back from my face. “Let’s not talk about them,” he said. “There’s something else I’d much rather be doing right now.”

Chapter Thirty-One Graham “I like the sound of that,” Chloe said. I ran my hands down her back and kissed her neck, then nipped and sucked at the soft skin there. She smelled so good and her skin was like silk. She slipped her hands underneath my shirt and drew her fingernails up and down my backside. We moved over to the couch, shedding our clothing, first her shirt, then her bra, and I paid attention to those gorgeous, perfect tits of hers before removing my own shirt. She slipped out of her shorts and her underwear and I kicked my jeans off. “I didn’t get to return the favor after that day in your studio,” I said, gently pushing her down on the couch so she was sitting but leaning back all the way, her ass at the very edge. I repositioned myself and put my hands on her inner thighs, pushing them apart. I put my mouth on her, licking first her clit and then her pussy, feeling how wet she already was. She groaned and reached down, grabbing my hair with her fingers. I spent a while down there, feeling her getting wetter and wetter. While I licked her clit, I slid one finger, then another, inside of her, and she squirmed against me, arching her back, moaning through clenched teeth. I didn’t want her to come yet though, and each time I sensed she was getting too close, I backed off a little, pulling my fingers out or letting my tongue just rest on her without moving. “Oh my God,” she kept saying in a throaty whisper. Finally, she yanked on my hair, hard. “I need you inside of me,” she said. “Right now.”

Ah, music to my ears. My dick was as hard as it’d ever been, and I fumbled first with getting my wallet out of my discarded jeans, then getting the condom out of the wallet, then finally with ripping open the packet of the condom and getting it on my dick. I just wanted to hurry up and get it on so we could get back to it. Finally, I got it. She slid down toward the end of the couch, draping herself over the arm, her feet on the ground now, ass up in the air. I held on to either side of her hips and she dropped down to her forearms, making it easy for my dick to just slide right in. I took a deep breath and let my eyes close. Fuck, that felt so good. She pressed her ass back against me, then moved forward, then back again, repeating that, so for a few, heavenly minutes, I just remained still while she fucked herself on me. And then we shifted positions; I brought her back onto the couch, much like she’d been when I’d gone down on her, except I put her legs up onto my shoulders and leaned over her. My face was right in front of hers and I leaned down, almost folding her in half, so I could kiss her. I slid back inside of her, and with her knees up by her head, I was able to get as deep in her as I’d ever been in anyone. I moved slowly at first, a warm tingling feeling shooting up my spine, into my brain, with each thrust. I rocked my hips faster, and she squeezed her legs around my neck, her eyes shut, mouth slightly open as she panted and groaned. I could feel her pussy muscles contracting and relaxing against my dick, pulling me in further the faster I moved. She was right there at the edge, about to come, and I wasn’t far behind. I kissed her again, and then just left my mouth there against hers as we moved together, not really kissing but just connected, and then she bit down on my lip as she started to come, letting out a little shriek, her fingernails scraping the length of my back, the pain of it just heightening the pleasure I was feeling even more. That ecstatic tingling feeling that had been spiraling up my spine exploded through my whole body as I came, and for a few incredible seconds, it felt as though my brain had short-circuited, rendering me nothing more than a pile of neurons and synapses, pulsating in pleasure.

And I could tell just by looking at Chloe that she felt the same way. She worked her legs down from my shoulders and stretched out, and though it was a tight fit, I lay down next to her on the couch. Our bodies were slick with sweat as I wrapped my arms around her. She nestled back into me, sighing in contentment. “That was amazing,” she said. “I think that was the most amazing feeling I have ever experienced.” I smiled. I’d been given plenty of compliments over the years about my ability in the sack, but that was, by far, the one that made me feel the best.

Chapter Thirty-Two Chloe I left Graham’s place later that afternoon when he went to go meet up with a buddy of his for a bike ride. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face as I drove home, and I kept replaying the day back in my mind. It almost felt like this wasn’t my life—except it was, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. But that smile faded when I turned down the driveway and saw Parker’s car there. He was standing on the front lawn, talking with my mother, who had that charmed look of hers on her face. “Chloe!” she said after I parked and got out. “Look who was just in the neighborhood and decided to drop by! Did you get my voicemail? I left several of them; I wasn’t sure where you went.” “The art center,” I said immediately. I walked over, my inner thighs sore. “Sorry, the ringer was turned off on my phone.” “That’s okay; Parker and I were just having a nice chat. But I’ll leave you two. Nice to see you, Parker!” My mother grinned at him and then turned and walked back toward the house. “Hey,” he said. “I was just about to leave. Glad you showed up, though. What are you up to right now?” I couldn’t keep this up. I had to tell him. “Look, Parker,” I said slowly. “I think you’re really nice, and I appreciate you

wanting to hang out and take me places. I know my mom gave you my number and everything, but … I just think it’s better if we didn’t see each other. I mean, I know we’re not dating or anything, so … so I feel a little weird having this whole conversation to begin with. It just seems like you’ve really gone out of your way to hang out and stuff and I don’t know, correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s probably to be more than just friends, right?” I felt myself blushing because I knew how convoluted I sounded. What the hell was I even trying to say? It made sense in my head, but now that I was actually verbalizing it, the whole thing sounded pretty confusing. And was I really saying that I thought if a guy was trying to hang out with a girl it was to be more than just friends? What if I’d been wrong this whole time and Parker really just wanted to be friends? “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I hope you can understand.” “Wow.” He nodded, but he looked surprised. “Wow. Um, okay.” “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I know you’re probably not used to being the one who gets turned down.” “That’s one way of putting it.” It was hard to tell if he was annoyed or not. He looked confused more than anything else. Was he upset? He looked at me more closely, though he wasn’t quite looking at my face. “Look, you know, if you want to just be friends, maybe we can hang out—” “Nice hickey you’ve got there,” he said. I brought my hand up to my neck; I hadn’t realized I even had one. Parker walked over to his car. “Have a good one,” he said, and then he got in and drove away. I knew my mother would come out any second and want to know why Parker left, and then she’d probably see that I had a hickey and want to know where that came from, so I just got into my own car and took off, even though I’d just gotten back. I called Tara.

“Oh, good!” she said. “I was just about to call you. I need a coffee. Meet me at Stacatto.” “Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” ***** Tara was already there, sitting at one of the outside tables when I arrived. “I got you an iced latte,” she said as I sat down. “Thanks.” “Um, wait a second, Chloe.” She leaned over and brushed my hair back. “Is that a hickey I spy?” I pulled away. “It might be.” She grinned. “Oh, you’re so bad! I love it. From Graham, I assume.” “Yeah. Definitely not from Parker. He just happened to be at my house when I got home and I sort of broke things off with him. Except that we weren’t even dating, so it’s not like there was actually anything to end. It was kind of awkward and awful, actually.” “Oooh.” Tara winced. “Did he take it badly?” “Well … not really. I mean, he wasn’t psyched or anything, but he certainly wasn’t brokenhearted. It was just a weird situation all around. I guess that’s what happens, though, when your parents try to interfere with your dating life. But things with Graham are going pretty well.” I tried to keep myself from grinning but couldn’t. “We slept together again. And it was so good!” She squealed and clapped her hands and made me give her all the details. “I’m so proud of you!” “Yeah,” I said, taking a sip of the cold drink. “I’m pretty happy about it myself, too.”

“Well, there was something I wanted to tell you too. Michael got in touch with me. Demanding to know if I was seeing someone else. Apparently, he’s coming to the Cape next week.” “Are you?” I asked. “Seeing someone else?” “No! You’d know if I was. But that day I ran into Graham at the coffee shop, I told him about the pictures and he said he didn’t care if I put them back up. So I did. And Michael messaged me!” Tara looked positively gleeful. “You’re not planning on getting back together with him though, are you?” I asked, trying not to feel horrified at the idea. I sure hoped she wasn’t going to get together with him when he got here. “Of course I’m not. I’m not an idiot. But he was very curious about whether or not I’d ‘found someone to replace him,’ as he put it. So … I might’ve stretched the truth a little and told him that Graham and I were seeing each other. You should’ve heard how upset he was! Acting like he was all wounded that I’d found someone else. It was really unbelievable. So I asked him if he was still together with that girl, whatever her name is, and he told me that he isn’t. And then he asked if I’d meet up with him when he got here, because he wanted to talk.” “Please tell me you said no.” Tara hesitated, and I knew that she’d agreed to see him. “I just want to tell him in person,” she said. “I want to tell him that he’s a piece of shit, and I also want to be able to turn him down when he asks me back out. Because I know he’s going to.” “Tara.” I shook my head. “He is an entitled prick. You’re really just antagonizing him. He is not someone who is used to hearing ‘no’ for an answer.” “Well, he’s going to get used to it, because that’s exactly what he’s going to hear from me. Anyway. The other thing I wanted to tell you was there is an awesome party

happening tonight. On the beach. And you should invite Graham.” “He went out for a bike ride.” “Yeah, but I bet he’s not going to be doing that all day. This party will be off the hook! If it sucks, we don’t have to stay, but I doubt it’s going to. Text him now and ask. We can meet up at his shop or whatever, and all go in one car. Come on, Chloe! This is the new you, and the new you is someone who goes to a beach party with the man she’s having sex with!” “Okay, fine,” I said. “You’ve convinced me.” I grabbed my phone out of my purse and texted Graham, asking him if he wanted to go. ***** It was hard to tell how many people were on the beach, but probably at least 60 or 70. There was a bonfire and some sort of club-type music being blasted from someone’s speakers. There was also a row of coolers, with beer, wine, and even some champagne. “Quite the party,” Graham said as we walked through the soft sand. “This is a private beach, so we don’t have to worry about the cops bothering us,” Tara said, skipping ahead. I scanned the faces of some of the people. It was dark, so it was difficult to see anyone too clearly. I recognized a few of the faces, but it wasn’t anyone that I would say I was friends with. I felt a flare of nervousness, but then Graham reached over and took my hand. He wouldn’t know anyone here either, and he seemed completely unbothered by this fact. “Let’s get something to drink,” Tara said. Everyone was quite friendly, whether because they were nice people or because they’d been drinking. As we walked over to the coolers, though, who should I happen to

catch sight of but Parker. “Oh, shit,” I said under my breath. “What?” Tara asked. I nodded. “Look who’s here.” She saw him, but shrugged. “So what? There’s enough people here you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. What do you want to drink?” Graham opted for a beer and I took one of the bottles of hard lemonade, figuring that that would be the least gross-tasting of all the choices. And it actually wasn’t that bad. I took a few sips and almost immediately felt myself start to relax a little. So Parker was here. Big deal. Tara was right; there were enough people here that I could easily avoid him. He was talking to a gorgeous girl who looked like she was probably a model or something. If he’d been at all upset about our conversation earlier, he certainly wasn’t showing it now. ***** As the evening progressed, I had another hard lemonade, and then started playing Frisbee with a few people down near the water’s edge. Sports might not have ever been my forte, but I’d always been good at Frisbee, even in the dark, even a tiny bit tipsy. Graham was talking to a few guys who were interested in getting tattoos. Tara was off somewhere, probably looking for a guy to hook up with. And here I was, at a party, having fun. I couldn’t believe how good I felt. Eventually, I wandered back over to the coolers, this time looking for water. I found more beer, a few bottles of whiskey, and some more hard lemonades, but no water. I was about to give up when someone brushed up against me as they leaned down to grab a beer out of the cooler.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, before realizing it was Parker. “Hey there, you,” he said. He had a goofy smile on his face and was slurring his words, just a little bit. He came over and gave me a hug. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.” “Hi, Parker.” He wagged a finger at me. “Now listen, I just want you to know that there’s no hard feelings, okay? None at all, and I mean that.” I smiled. “That’s good … I’m glad to hear it.” “Yes.” He held up his beer bottle as if to make a toast. “No hard feelings at all. You know, you’re right … I’m not the kind of guy who’s used to getting turned down. Not that I’m saying I’m perfect or anything, but … girls don’t usually turn me down. So it was a little surprising. But it also doesn’t count, I don’t think now, does it?” He took a big swig of his beer and then looked at me expectantly. “Um … I don’t know?” I said finally. “Well, if you don’t know, let me tell you: it doesn’t count. Because for it to count, the person who turned me down would have to be someone that I was actually interested in. Someone that I was actually attracted to.” He leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Not that you aren’t pretty. You are. But I’m just not attracted to you. You and I … we just don’t have that je ne sais quoi.” I took a step back. “Okay, Parker,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about it. It’s fine. I really wasn’t trying to insult you or anything, I just—” “You didn’t insult me!” he shouted. “This is what I’m trying to tell you: I was never interested in you. So the fact that you are not interested in me is not insulting. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you.”

“Then why did you keep bugging me to hang out with you?” “Because your father cornered me that night of the party! He said if I went out with you this summer, then he’d make it worth my while.” I laughed. “Yeah, right. That’s ridiculous.” Parker shook his head. “It might be, but that’s what we were talking about.” “What was he going to do? Give you money? It’s not like you need money.” “You’re right; I don’t need money. And if that’s all he was offering, then I would’ve said no.” “What was he offering, then?” “He was offering me a job.” “A job?” “Right. Job. J-O-B. Say it with me now. Jaaayyyy—ohhhhh—beeeeee—” “So my father offered you a job if you would go out with me,” I repeated. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner!” Parker clapped, sloshing beer over his hands. “And how long were we supposed to go out for?” “The end of the summer.” “Then what? What happened at the end of the summer?” “We’d just … I don’t know. Go our separate ways. It wasn’t like this was going to be something that would last.” I nodded. “I see.” I tried not to think about what would happen if I had really ended up falling for Parker. I’d spend the whole summer, thinking that things were great, only to have us “go our separate ways,” as he so put it, once summer was over. “Well. Thanks for being honest with me, I guess.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you know.” He held his beer bottle up and looked at it, as though he were surprised to find he was still holding it. “I just thought you should know.” And then he stumbled off. I watched him go, wanting desperately to not believe a single word he just said. He was drunk! He was just talking nonsense! I kept telling myself that even though I knew it wasn’t true—my father had offered Parker a job at his hedge fund if he would go out with me. I didn’t know how long I stood there for, my feet buried in the cool, soft sand. Eventually, Graham came over. “Hey,” he said. “Here you are. Everything okay?” I didn’t say anything right away. I felt if I were to actually speak those words out loud it would make them true, so if I just pretended that the whole conversation hadn’t taken place to begin with, then it could be like it had never happened. But it had. I could picture my father, the night of the party, talking to Parker, me and Tara standing across the room, giggling about whatever it was they were conversing about. That was probably exactly when it was happening. “No,” I said. “Everything is not okay.” “What?” Graham asked, a look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” “I just need to go home.” “Chloe.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, his eyes locked onto mine, searching my face. “What’s going on?” “I’m okay,” I said. “I just … I just found out something really shitty. I don’t want to get into it right now. I just need to go back to my house. Would you drive me back to my car?” “Yeah, of course. And you don’t have to tell me what’s happening, but … you’re all right?”

I knew it wasn’t fair of me to be so vague, but I didn’t want to say anything to him, or to Tara, or to anyone, about it just yet. ***** Graham drove me back to my car. We sat there in the front seat of his truck for a moment, the engine idling. He reached over and held my hand. “Well, call me if you need to,” he said. “I hope whatever’s happening gets straightened out. If I can help you at all, just let me know, okay?” “Okay,” I said, staring out the windshield. He didn’t let go of my hand though, until I looked at him. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Whatever it is.” We kissed quickly and then said goodnight. I got out and he waited until I was in my own car and driving off before he left. I kept the radio off and drove in silence. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t say anything, but then I realized there was no way I could just keep quiet about this. Then I thought that maybe I would wait to bring it up, I would think about what I wanted to say, I would be rational. But the more I thought about what my parents had done, the angrier I got. By the time I got home, I was fuming. The lights were on in the living room, and they were in there together, drinking their wine and watching TV. “Chloe?” Mom called. “Is that you?” I slammed the front door. “Darling! You don’t need to shut the door so hard!” I stomped down into the living room. They were both on the couch. “Good,” I said, “I’m glad you’re both here. There’s something that I need to talk to

you about.” “Oh?” My mother leaned forward and set her wine glass down on the coffee table. “Is everything all right?” “No,” I said, barely able to keep my voice from shaking. “No, everything is not all right at all, actually. I just got back from a beach party.” “That sounds lovely! Did you have fun?” “Don’t interrupt me.” “Chloe!” My father looked at me sharply. “Don’t talk to your mother in that tone.” “No, Dad, actually, you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore! Do you know who I happened to run into at this beach party? Parker. And do you know what Parker happened to tell me? He told me that the only reason he was calling me to hang out these past couple of weeks was because you had told him to! And you promised him that if he did, you’d get him a job. Is that true?” My father looked at my mother. My mother looked back at him and then leaned forward to get her wine glass. Enough of an answer for me. “I can’t believe you,” I said. “The two of you. Why would you do that? Why the hell would you ever think something like that would be okay?” “Parker is a good kid from a good family,” my father said. “We thought the two of you might hit it off.” He held his hands up. “There were no bad intentions there.” “No,” I said. “It’s so much more awful than that. It’s not that you two thought the two of us would make a cute couple; Dad, you offered him a job if he would go out with me! So you’re basically saying that I’m not good enough—you had to also throw in employment as part of the package.” “You know I don’t think that at all, Chloe. You know I think the world of you.”

“Oh, really? I’m suddenly finding that really hard to believe, considering you don’t think that I can get a date unless you offer something else, too.” My mother pressed her fingers to her temples. “It’s really not like that, Chloe, okay? It’s not. I know it might seem that way, but your father and I only want what is best for you. We don’t want to see you going down the wrong path. We also want to see you happy and succeeding. Is there anything wrong with that?” “I just don’t understand what Parker has to do with any of that. Especially if he wasn’t even interested to begin with.” “We were trying to help you, Chloe. We thought you needed a little bit of a … nudge, I guess. You’ve never really dated anyone before, and I just didn’t want to see you getting involved with the wrong sort of person. It’s not as though we were necessarily expecting things with Parker to be a long-term arrangement or anything, but …” My mother shrugged. “Your father and I both agreed that he’s an upstanding young man from an excellent family and he’d make a good first date for you.” I shook my head and looked up at the ceiling. Was this really the conversation I was having right now? “We are not in some third-world country where the parents get to arrange their kids’ marriages!” I exclaimed. My mother laughed. “We weren’t expecting you to get married! Goodness.” “Just stop it! I can’t continue this conversation with you because you’re not even willing to admit what you did was completely messed up! Just totally wrong in every way. There is no way you can spin this to make it right, except you don’t even see that!” “Chloe,” my father said sharply. “I don’t think I like the tone you’re taking with us. You can be upset if you want, but that’s not license to be disrespectful.” *****

I went into the bathroom with the scissors and before I even let myself think about what I was doing, I started to chop my hair off. I thought about that girl, the waitress we’d had in Provincetown, with the short, pink hair. I wasn’t going to dye my hair pink—not right now, anyway—but I cut it as short as I could, except in the front. I left the front pieces about three inches long and brushed them to the side. I wasn’t a professional stylist and I used a mirror to see the back, so what hair I had left looked choppy, but not bad. I studied my face in the mirror. My head felt a lot lighter now. I turned to the left, then to the right. My neck seemed longer. My jawline looked different. I liked how I looked. Without all that hair, my cheekbones seemed more prominent, my eyes larger. I’d cut more than a foot of hair off, and it covered the bathroom floor. I did my best to clean it up, and then I hopped in the shower. I barely had to use any shampoo, and when I got out, instead of having to wrap my hair up turban style, I just rubbed my head a few times with a towel, ran my fingers through my bangs, and that was that. My mother let out a shriek the next morning when I came downstairs. “Chloe!” she yelped, her hand on her chest. “What have you done to your hair? I thought you were an intruder for a second! Oh, my God.” She was standing there at the counter, in her bathing suit and sheer coverall, spooning sugar into her coffee. She let go of the spoon and it clattered on the marble surface. Her mouth hung open and she blinked at me several times. She looked over at my father, who was sitting at the breakfast table with the newspaper. “You didn’t actually do that,” she said. “Tell me this is just some sort of optical illusion. Tell me you did not cut off all of your beautiful hair!” Her voice rose with each word. She almost sounded hysterical. “It’s no optical illusion. I gave myself a haircut. It’s not a big deal.”

“It most certainly is a big deal! You look like … you look like …” “What? What do I look like?” “Well, I don’t know! Like you belong in the circus or something. Chloe, how could you do such a thing?” She started to cry. Not sobbing, but her eyes started to well up and a tear slid down the side of her face. “Oh, God, Mom,” I said. “Stop it. It’s just hair. Would you be crying if I had cancer and had to go get chemo and lost my hair?” “But you don’t have cancer! If you had cancer, there’d be a reason you had to lose your hair! You don’t have a reason! You just did this because you want to spite us! What is going on with you, Chloe? I mean, really.” She wiped at her eyes. “Mom, you’re making something out of nothing. It’s just hair; it’ll grow back. If I let it, that is. I actually like it short like this. I’ve never had short hair before, did you know that? Of course you know, because you’d never let me have short hair when I was a kid.” “That is not true.” “Yes, it is. You were always saying how I had such long, beautiful hair and I should never cut it. And you know what? I never did. Because that’s what I thought you wanted, and I just always went along with what you guys thought I should do.” My mother wiped at her eyes again. “How can you say that? How can you say you never got your hair cut? Don’t you remember the mother-daughter dates we used to go on? We’d go to the salon, and then I’d take you out to lunch, and sometimes we’d stop by a bookstore after. You don’t remember any of that?” I sighed. “Of course I remember doing that, Mom. And it was fun, I’m not saying it wasn’t. But those ‘haircuts’ were never more than just a trim, maybe adding a few layers

or something. My hair has never been above my shoulders, except maybe when I was little and it hadn’t grown that long yet!” “But I thought you liked it like that.” “I’m not saying it was the worst thing. It’s more like … it’s like, symbolic of everything else, too.” My father grunted. He’d been quiet this whole time, but I could tell by the expression on his face how pissed off he was. “I don’t think symbolism has anything to do with the fact that you’ve just cut all your hair off. Where’d you do this, by the way? Your bathroom? I’d think you’d at least get it done professionally if you were going to do something so drastic. What this really is, Chloe, is you rebelling, because you’re upset. But really, your mother and I are the ones who should be upset. You’ve just been out of control this summer. First the tattoo, now the hair. Plus, this new attitude of yours, which is not appreciated. What’s next? What’s going on with you? This has to stop.” My father’s tone was sharp, his eyes angry. Any other time I would’ve been apologizing, or slinking off to my room, but this time, I stood my ground. Maybe because I knew they were totally in the wrong, regardless of what their motives were, for offering someone a job if they’d take me out a few times. “What has to stop,” I said, “is you two thinking that you can control my life. I’m not a child anymore. And you don’t know what’s best for me.” My father opened his mouth to say something but didn’t; he stood up and started to walk from the room. “I’m done with this conversation right now. When you’re ready to have a rational discussion, I’d be more than happy to, but now is clearly not the time.” He left. My mother wiped at her eyes again, shaking her head. “We just thought that maybe you’d like to go out with someone this summer, Chloe. I’ve talked to you about this before. You know that it’s something we want for you. You’ve never really had that

experience before and I was just getting afraid that you’d keep putting it off until it was too late.” “Mom!” I yelled. She jumped. “Are you kidding me? I’m 21! There are some parents out there that would actually be glad if their kid was deciding to put off dating. But you guys are acting like if I don’t start seeing someone now, then I’m going to end up alone and miserable for the rest of my life, like some old maid. And I’ll have you know, Mom, that I am actually seeing someone. Oh, I doubt you’d approve of him, but he likes me for me, not because one of my parents offered him a job. And you can approve or not; I really don’t care.” My mother paled. “That man? What was his name? The man that came to the house? With the facial hair? And all those tattoos?” “Yes. That’s him. And he’s actually a really great person. And guess what? He wouldn’t take a job if one of you offered it to him anyway, because he owns his own business! He’s not some derelict drug addict or whatever the hell you think he might be.” “But—” “No.” I held my hand up. “I’m not going to argue this with you. It’s clearly something that you don’t want to accept, and fine, you don’t have to. But that’s not going to change what I’m doing.” She started to say something else, but I turned and walked out. I didn’t know where my father went, but I knew I couldn’t stay in this house right now. I ran upstairs to my bedroom and grabbed my purse and then left the house, ignoring my mother’s calls after me, asking where I was going. ***** It took my mother almost two full days before she was able to talk to me without

looking as though she were about to burst into tears. All because of hair? It seemed so over the top. Completely unnecessary. Was she really that concerned with appearances? Could she not see that I was still the same person? Or maybe, in a way, I wasn’t, and she sensed that. I didn’t feel entirely different, but I did feel as though I was more aware of a way of life that had always been there but that I’d never been fully conscious of before. And that way of life wasn’t something extreme; it wasn’t like renouncing technology or going vegan, or deciding to live at a nudist colony or something. What it was, I realized, was the knowledge that I could be who I wanted. Who I wanted on my terms, not my parents’. And for so long, I’d done what my parents had wanted, gone along with what they thought was best. I’d never really questioned it, until now. Why had I waited so long? In high school, when my fellow classmates were experimenting with drinking and dyeing their hair or staying out past curfew, I was dutifully completing my homework, studying at the library, doing extra credit assignments. Up until now, my greatest act of dissent had been going to art school. But Graham liked my hair. When I showed up at his work, he’d done a double take, not recognizing me at first and then let out a low whistle. Even if he hadn’t liked my hair though, it wouldn’t have bothered me that much, because I liked my hair. Now, though, my mother was doing her best to look at me without wincing. “Your father and I talked,” Mom said. “We’ve been quite troubled by all of this, Chloe, we really have. I know you might not believe that, but it’s the truth.” “I haven’t been enjoying myself, either, Mom. I don’t like fighting with you guys. I also don’t like feeling as though you’re trying to control me.” “We just want what’s best—” “Yes, I know, you just want what’s best for me, you keep saying that, but the thing is, I don’t think you actually know what is best for me. Because we don’t necessarily want the

same things, and that’s okay. Can’t you accept that?” My mother took a deep breath. “Sweetie, I don’t want to fight with you anymore, okay? Neither does your father. We both feel like this is escalating and we want it to stop. I mean, look what you’ve done to your hair. Would you have done that if we hadn’t been fighting? If this whole thing hadn’t taken place? I highly doubt it. I don’t like this conflict. We are not that kind of family. We love each other and we care about each other. So … so we’d like to meet this person that you’re seeing. The one with the beard and the tattoos. We were thinking he … he might like to come over here for dinner some night. What kind of food does he like to eat?” I could tell how difficult this was for her. I smiled. “I appreciate you saying that, Mom. And … Graham likes most things; I don’t think he’s that picky. Whatever we had would be fine, I’m sure.” ***** Before I went down to visit him, though, I had to stop by Tara’s because she had something very important she wanted to talk about. I drove over to her house and found her out back, tanning by the pool. “So, what was so important that you couldn’t actually tell me over the phone?” I asked, stretching out in one of the lounge chairs next to her. She pushed her big sunglasses to the top of her head and looked at me. “Guess who’s here,” she said. I sat up and looked over my shoulder toward the house. “Here? As in right now?” “No, here as in on the Cape.” I groaned. “Michael.” “You got it. And guess who wants to get together?”

“I think I already know the answer to this.” She grinned. “Got any plans Friday?” “I don’t know. Please tell me you’re not meeting him on Friday?” “He messaged me and wanted to know if I was free, because he said he really wanted to see me. So I said yes.” “I’m not going with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I paused. “Or maybe I should go with you, but sit at a nearby table or something. Just to make sure that everything is okay.” She widened her eyes. “He’s not going to do anything. At least, I don’t think he is.” “It just seems strange to me that all of the sudden he wants to see you.” “It shouldn’t seem that strange,” Tara sniffed. “He now realizes what he’s missing out on, and that he shouldn’t have left me for that chick, whatever the hell her name is. I can’t even remember. But …” Her brow furrowed. “Maybe you coming along but being incognito would be a good idea. It’d be fun at least. And with your hair, he won’t even recognize you!” I doubted he’d recognize me anyway; he’d always struck me as one of those people who didn’t really see others, unless he was getting something from them.

***** When I got to Graham’s work, a customer was just leaving, a woman my mom’s age. I tried to imagine my mother coming down here to get a tattoo. She smiled at me as she left. “Graham here’s the best!” she said. “Can’t go wrong with anything he does!” “That’s very kind of you, Linda,” he said as the door swung shut. He looked at me with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Well, I thought of texting you but then I figured I’d just stop by. I’m here to extend an invitation.” “Oh yeah? What for?” “My parents would like to have you over to the house for lunch.” He raised an eyebrow. “They would?” “Yes. I’m looking at it as though they’re trying to extend the olive branch. It’s a start. Do you remember the other night, when I told you about how my dad basically bribed Parker into taking me out? I think he—I think they feel bad after this whole thing. Which they should feel bad about, because that was completely messed up.” “Then it sounds like I should take them up on the offer. Yeah, sure, that’s fine. Just tell me when and where.” There was a part of me that wanted to put it off indefinitely, just because I knew the potential there was for things to go badly. But maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe my parents really were going to try to step out of their comfort zones and be welcoming. There was only one way to find out.

Chapter Thirty-Three Graham All right, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit nervous about this whole thing at Chloe’s parents’ house. Lame, I know, but I found myself actually wanting to make a good first impression. Granted, her father kind of sounded like an ass and from that one interaction, I knew her mother was stuck up and pretentious, but I was willing to overlook all that. I had my preconceived notions about them, and they no doubt had their own about me, but maybe, just maybe, we could all get past that. This time, when I went up to the front door, I was granted entrance. It was Chloe who opened the door. She wore a navy blue, sleeveless romper with a vintage floral print and these leather strappy sandals that laced halfway up her calves. I still couldn’t get over how hot she looked with the hair; it was like seeing her for the first time every time I saw her. “Hey,” she said with a smile. We kissed, briefly, though I would’ve liked it to last much longer. “You look great,” I said. “So do you.” I hadn’t been sure what to wear; the usual jeans and T-shirt was not going to fly, I knew. I eventually settled on a short-sleeve, plaid button-down and a black pair of shorts. I looked respectable, I thought.

“Hi there, I’m John Singer,” Chloe’s dad said, holding his hand out. I reached to shake it, but we ended up mistiming it and I ended up enclosing his fingertips in my palm. “Graham,” I said as we both let go. “Nice to meet you.” Jesus. Talk about awkward. It wasn’t much better with her mother. “Claire,” she said. “I know we’ve already met, but we got off on the wrong foot. So, let’s just pretend that never happened.” “Sure,” I said. “Why not.” They looked about as uncomfortable as I felt, so I guessed we were all just going to have to try to grin and bear it. Alcohol would help. As if reading my mind, Claire’s dad suddenly said, “Would you like a beer? Wine?” “Beer would be great.” “Why don’t we go out onto the deck,” Claire said. “Chloe and I will get the drinks; Alicia’s made some delicious appetizers, so the two of you can get started on those and we’ll join you shortly.” “Sure,” I said, though I had no clue who the hell Alicia was. A sister? I didn’t think Chloe had mentioned having any siblings. I followed her father outside. The deck was huge, overlooking an even bigger green lawn, broken up by several garden plots overflowing with all types of flowers. “Have a seat,” he said, and we sat down at the teak wood table, which was laden with several trays of food. “So,” John said. He didn’t say anything else after that, though, and just looked increasingly uncomfortable. He didn’t strike me as the sort of person who was usually at a loss for words. He looked over at the food and cleared his throat. “It looks like Alicia has put together a fine spread.” He blanched at the potential innuendo that could be deduced from “Alicia’s fine spread,” but neither of us said anything. Under other circumstances,

we might’ve shared a laugh, but that was clearly not going to happen. “And Alicia is …?” I looked around, not seeing this Alicia or any signs of her. I really had no recollection to Chloe ever mentioning her name. “Our chef,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Today’s usually one of her days off, but we asked that she come in and prepare something since you were coming by.” I smiled. “I gave my chef the day off today.” He returned my smile, though I could tell it was mostly to cover up his confusion as to whether or not I actually had a chef. “Anyway,” he said. “These are the appetizers here, and it looks like we’ve got some grilled portabellas, bacon-wrapped scallops, and some crab cakes, which are one of Alicia’s specialties.” “Everything looks great.” I imagined Alicia, trapped in the hot kitchen, a huge ball and chain attached to her leg, being forced to make hundreds and hundreds of crab cakes …. I laughed, just a little, but enough that I couldn’t cover it up with a cough or something. Chloe’s dad looked at me. “Something funny?” “Oh, uh …” Luckily, Chloe and her mother appeared with the drinks, saving me from trying to think up an excuse for my laughter. “Here we go!” her mother said cheerfully.

“So, Graham, tell us about your childhood. Did you grow up here?” “Afraid so,” I said, intending it to be a joke—yes, a bad one, I know—but realizing that neither of Chloe’s parents were going to take it that way. “Oh.” They exchanged glances. “Is something wrong with the Cape?” her mother asked. “No, I don’t mean it that way. Although, winters here can be kind of rough. That was just my attempt at a lame joke.” There was some forced laughter and then some more silence. There was absolutely no cohesion, no meshing, no middle ground for us to meet on. To combat the complete awkwardness, I drank more beer. Drinking more beer made me more affable. I laughed louder, longer. Was that thing Chloe’s dad said even that funny? Questionable, but I laughed anyway. And here was her mother, trying to reignite the conversation, asking me what my parents did for a living. Under normal circumstances, I would have said that my mother was a waitress and I didn’t have contact with my father. But not today. Today I chugged the rest of my beer. I looked at Chloe’s mother. “My mother works in the service industry. And by service industry I mean The Finery. Know of that place?” Claire had no idea, but for a second, I swear, John blanched. And the reason he did so was because he did know the place. Whether that was just because he’d driven by there or actually had personal experience, I had no idea, but finally! Common ground. I seized the opportunity. “Yes!” I exclaimed. I leaned over and clapped him on the back. He nearly jumped out of his seat. “You know The Finery!”

“What? No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But the look on his face said he knew exactly what I was talking about. “What is it? What’s The Finery?” Claire asked, looking first to John, then to me. Chloe nudged me. I had no idea if she knew what The Finery was, but from the expression on her face, I had a feeling she’d at least heard about it. “Is it some place I’d like to go?” Claire asked after no one answered her previous question. She fixed her gaze back on me. “So, your mother works there, Graham?” “It’s basically been the only job she’s ever had. Started right out of high school. A dancer, back then, but now she’s waitressing. That’s where she met my dad! Allegedly.” I took another sip of beer. It wasn’t quite registering for Claire, yet. I could see her trying to process what I’d just said, figuring out if by “dancer” I met New York City Ballet or … the other kind of dancer. “This risotto’s really good,” Chloe said. “What … what kind of dancing did she do?” Claire asked. It was like there were two parts of me: the rational part that knew I should just shut the hell up, there was no reason to keep going with this, and then the other part was enjoying this, that wanted to see where this was going to go. That enjoyed seeing John squirm a little, because he’d probably never had to squirm in his life, because he was the sort of guy who was used to giving the orders and being in charge and never having anyone question him. It felt good, to that part of me that was having fun, yet the rational part of me knew it wasn’t fair because I didn’t really know Chloe’s dad. Yes, it was easy enough to just group him in with all the other wealthy summer residents, with his salmon pink, Lacoste golf shirt and his pressed, cream-colored shorts, but did I personally know

the guy? No, I did not. Not yet anyway, though from the look on his face, I probably wasn’t going to have the chance to get to know him. At least not today. Claire looked at John. “What kind of place is this?” she demanded. “Honey …” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s nowhere, okay? Let’s just drop it.” “No, I want to know.” “Maybe we should just drop it, Mom,” Chloe said. But Claire acted as though she hadn’t even heard Chloe, and John was looking more agitated by the second, and suddenly the air had a very electric feel to it, kind of the way it does right before a big lightning storm. “Yeah, I’m not staying here to witness this,” Chloe said. She stood up and reached for my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Chapter Thirty-Four Chloe I had been hopeful that our get-together might go smoothly. I had prepared myself and accepted the fact that there was bound to be some awkwardness, but that if my dad had a drink or two, and Graham had a beer, then eventually the conversation would gel, everyone would find something to talk about, maybe there’d even be a couple laughs. But then, Graham ended up having a few more beers than I thought he would, and while he wasn’t drunk, he was definitely a little tipsy. And then the whole thing with The Finery came up, and it was like I was watching a car crash in slow motion and there was nothing I could do about it. So we left. We took my car and Graham sat there in the passenger seat, hands on his knees, looking out the windshield. “Shit,” he said as I pulled out from the driveway. “What the hell just happened?” “I think you just started World War Three.” He winced. “Was it that bad? I’m not even drunk, you know. I don’t know why I brought that shit up. Fuck, I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “It’ll blow over.” “You’re not mad?” “Why would I be?”

“Well, I’m not trying to make your home life any more complicated, you know. Your mother didn’t look happy.” “I’m sure my father will have some sort of explanation for her.” Graham gave me a sidelong look. “You do know what The Finery is, right?” “Everyone knows what it is. Except maybe my mom. I’ve never been there before, but I know it’s a strip club. My parents have been coming to the Cape every summer for a long time now; it wouldn’t surprise me if at some point before I came along my dad and his buddies went there some night.” We came to a red light and I stopped. “Or maybe even after I was born. Who knows? Obviously that’s not something I talk to him about.” “Wow,” Graham said, sounding surprised. “You’re being pretty nonchalant about the whole thing.” Was I? I’d always assumed my parents had a good relationship, but I’d also seen the way my mother flirted with the landscapers, who were always young and handsome and often took their shirts off while they mowed the lawn or trimmed the hedges. “I mean, if it comes out that he goes there all the time and has fathered a dozen illegitimate children or something, then I might care, but if we’re talking about him going there just to watch or whatever, I don’t see what the big deal is. My mom probably has more of a problem with it not being a four-star establishment than anything else.” The light changed and I started to drive again. I didn’t know where I was going, so I just ended up driving around for a while until I finally ended up back near my parents’ house. “I’m fine to drive,” Graham said. “I should at least get my truck out of there.” So I drove back down the driveway, hoping that neither of them would come out of the house, which they didn’t. “You want to come back to my place for a little bit?” Graham asked.

“Sure,” I said, because I sure as hell did not want to stay here right now. ***** It was dark when I got home, and the front light wasn’t on, so I didn’t see that my mother was sitting outside in the Adirondack until I almost walked past her. “Hi, Chloe,” she said. I heard the ice clink in her glass as she took a sip of whatever it was she was drinking. “I’m sorry about earlier today.” “Hi, Mom. Um, that’s ok.” “That certainly wasn’t how I planned for the day to go.” I went over and sat on the arm of the chair. I patted her shoulder. “I know. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have Graham over just yet. I mean, meeting the parents is something that happens when you’ve been together longer than we have, probably.” “Are you two together?” I smiled. “Yeah,” I said. “We are. And he feels bad; he didn’t mean to bring things up like that. Honestly, I think he was kind of nervous, and then he probably had one too many beers …” I stopped talking, realizing that if I was trying to make him sound better, I probably wasn’t. “I would just never expect your father to go to a place like that,” she said. “He said he only went once, a long time ago, before you were even born, for a bachelor party, actually. You know whose party it was? Parker’s father’s.” “Oh,” I said, remembering my conversation with him at my parents’ party. “He actually seems pretty nice.” “He is. He’s a fine upstanding gentleman, and very successful, just like your father.” “So, you shouldn’t be mad at him then, Mom. It sounds like it was a long time ago,

and isn’t that the sort of thing people do at bachelor parties?” “They do, I suppose.” She sighed and took another sip of her drink, ice clinking. “And that’s what I’ve been telling myself—that people do that sort of thing when they go to bachelor parties, that’s the whole point, but I still feel as though he kept a secret from me. We weren’t married then, but we were together. And I know you might find this hard to believe, Chloe, but I was a lot like you as a kid. I always wanted to do the right thing, and I never gave my parents a hard time or any of that. There was no teenage rebellion phase for me, and I was really thankful that you didn’t seem to have one, either. It just seems like now, you’re sort of making up for that.” “I’m not trying to be rebellious. I guess I just don’t like feeling as though my life is being planned out for me. Which is kind of what I felt like was happening, especially with Parker.” “So, the two of you just didn’t hit it off?” “He’s nice and everything, but no, we didn’t. And Dad offering him a job to date me probably didn’t help things, either.” “I’m sorry, sweetie. And Graham did seem nice,” she said. “I can understand him being nervous. Not that we were trying to make him nervous! Maybe we can try to get together another time.” “Well, I’m going to go visit him at work tomorrow after I go to the art center, so I’ll mention that to him.” My mom reached up and squeezed my arm. She was trying, she really was, and I did appreciate that. ***** The next day, I spent the morning at the art center, working on some more sketches. I

didn’t want to start sculpting anything until I had a better idea of what I was going to do. I’d decided to scrap the mermaid thing—that was nice, and maybe I’d do a mermaid sculpture another time, but I wanted to do a piece that meant something. I just still wasn’t quite sure what that was. But I made some good progress with my sketches and an idea started to take shape. Part of me wanted to talk to Graham about it, but then I decided that I wasn’t going to talk to anyone about it—I was going to have it be a surprise that would get revealed at the show. Around lunchtime, I decided to leave. Tara called and said that Michael had been in touch and he still wanted to meet up with her today. “You still in?” she asked. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” “No, I will,” I said. “As your friend, I feel it’s my responsibility. What time are you meeting up with him?” “Six.” “Okay. I’ll see you then.” Graham was finishing up with a customer when I got there, so I went and got us coffees. “Look at you,” he said, “with that giant iced coffee at 1 in the afternoon.” “I know.” I took a big sip. “I’ve got big plans tonight.” “Oh yeah? What’s going on?” “I’m chaperoning Tara’s get-together with her psycho ex.” “You’re what?” “I’m just going to make sure that everything goes okay.” “Tara doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who needs a chaperone.”

Unlike yourself, I could practically hear him thinking. “Well, I’m going to be incognito. I’ve got a baseball cap. And sunglasses.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m just kidding,” I said. “I’m not going to go in a baseball cap and sunglasses. I am going to go, though, but Tara knows it. We’ve talked about it. I’m going to sit at a different table. I’ve met Michael before, but I highly doubt he’s going to recognize me. Not with my new hair, anyway.” Graham gave me a skeptical look. “And where is all this private eye stuff going down?” “Stacatto.” “When are you going there?” “I think she said she’s going to meet him at 6.” “You girls should find a better way to spend your time. The guy sounds like an ass.” “He is. Which is why I feel the need to go, to make sure he doesn’t try anything.” The skeptical look turned into one of amusement. “Do you have secret kung fu skills you never told me about?” “I might.” “Just be careful. I know Tara’s all about making him jealous, but jealous people can do stupid shit, and you don’t want to get caught up in that, trust me.” “Don’t worry,” I said. “Everything will be fine.” He nodded and took another sip of his coffee, but I could tell that he was bothered by the whole thing. *****

I wasn’t, though. And when 6 o’clock rolled around, I was ready. I waited a few minutes, able to see them through the big, plate glass window. Michael looked the same as I remembered, which is to say stunningly handsome, but in a very icy sort of way. It was hard to describe, other than there was something about him that had always made me uneasy. Which was why I was here to begin with; not that I thought Tara couldn’t handle herself, but just in case. I strolled in and went over to the counter and got a hot chocolate and a peanut butter cookie. There was an empty table in the corner, near where Tara and Michael were, so I sat there, with my back to them. There was enough chatter and background noise in the café that I could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but not the whole thing. I kept my phone in front of me and periodically swiped at the screen, even though I wasn’t looking at anything. “… glad you decided to see me …” That was Michael. I turned my head ever so slightly, just enough that I could glimpse them out of the corner of my eye. Tara had definitely dolled herself up for the occasion—she looked good, in a fitted red dress with white polka dots. I didn’t quite catch her response, but it was something along the lines of, “I’m pretty busy, but I did at least manage to fit you into my schedule.” I drank my hot chocolate and ate my cookie. The minutes ticked by. It sounded like Michael was trying to get her to come back to his place. “I don’t think so,” Tara said. “I told you—I’m busy.” I leaned back in my chair a little so I could hear them better. “When have you ever been too busy for me?” he asked. “Plenty of times. Ever since you decided you were going to leave me and jet off to Paris.”

There was a scraping sound as Tara pushed back her chair and stood up. “In fact, I’m leaving right now.” It seemed as though she’d forgotten that I was there, or she just didn’t want to break my cover. She hurried out, her spiked heels click-clicking on the brushed concrete floor. Michael stalked after her and I got up and followed. I was only a few seconds behind him, but when I stepped outside, he had his hand on her upper arm and was yanking her toward him. Her ankle rolled gruesomely under her and she let out a yelp as she fell to the ground. He didn’t let go of her arm, though, and tried to jerk her back up. “Hey!” I shouted. “Stop it!” He turned right as I reached him and tried to pull him off of her. “What the fuck?” he said. He let go of Tara’s arm and shoved me. “Chloe? Is that you? Are you fucking kidding me? Get out of here; this is none of your business.” “Ow, my ankle!” Tara was still in a heap on the ground. “Chloe, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of here, okay? This doesn’t concern you; this is between Tara and me.” He looked down at her. “Get up.” “I twisted my ankle, you fucking asshole!” she screamed at him. I tried to get around him to help her up but he blocked me. When I tried to push his arm away, he shoved me again and I stumbled back. “I mean it, Chloe, if you don’t get out of here—” “I think you’re the one who needs to get the fuck out of here.” I turned my head and saw Graham walking over to us. “Does it make you feel good, pushing women around? You the kind of guy who gets

off on that sort of thing?” Michael sneered at him. “This is not any of your business,” he said. “I don’t know who you are—wait a second.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at Graham. “Wait a fucking second, I know who you are!” He looked down at Tara. “Looks like your fucking boyfriend has shown up to save the day.” “He’s not my boyfriend!” Tara snapped. “Yeah, right. I saw those pictures you put up of the two of you at the beach.” I went over to Tara and pulled her up. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I really fucked up my ankle,” she said, looking down at it. “Shit, it’s already swelling. Dammit! This sure as shit isn’t going as I planned it.” I hunched over a little so she could throw her arm across my shoulders and take some of the weight off her injured leg. “If he’s not your boyfriend, what the hell is he doing here, then?” Michael asked. “And why the hell did you tell me he was your boyfriend? Why the hell would you post fucking pictures of the two of you on Facebook together?” “He’s my boyfriend,” I said. “And he’s here because I asked him to be because I know how much of a scumbag you can be.” “I think it’s time you hit the road, bro,” Graham said. “There’s really no reason for you to be here.” Michael gave him a defiant look, but we all knew he wasn’t going to try to fight Graham. There was no way in hell he’d have any chance of beating him. “You’re a piece of work,” he said to Tara. He started to walk down the sidewalk. “You really are. Don’t ever get in touch with me again.”

He turned and walked off. “What a dick!” Tara said. She looked at Graham. “I didn’t know you were part of our covert operation, too.” “I’m not,” he said. “But I had a feeling I better make an appearance.” “We were handling it,” Tara said. “But we do appreciate you showing up.” “Right.” Graham nodded slowly. “You can barely even walk.” “I rolled my ankle. Just give me a minute.” He looked at me. “And what about you? Are you all right?” “I’m fine!” I did, in fact, feel fine, probably a whole hell of a lot better than Tara felt with her swollen ankle. “Help me over to that bench,” Tara said. She hobbled over and sat down, gingerly stretching her leg out in front of her. “That’s not looking so great,” Graham said. “Forget about my ankle.” Tara grinned at me. “Let’s talk about the most exciting part of tonight.” “And what would that be?” I asked. “You nearly getting an abducted by your exboyfriend?” “No! I’m talking about you referring to Graham as your boyfriend! You might’ve thought you snuck that one by me, but no way!” “Oh,” I said, barely remembering that I’d said it. “Well, I only said it because Michael was trying to say that Graham was your boyfriend, not because he’s actually mine …” Graham laughed. “Am I being fought over? I don’t mind being your boyfriend, you know. I’ve never actually officially been someone’s boyfriend, but I wouldn’t mind giving

it a shot. For you.” Tara squealed. “Ahhh, I love it!” “You would?” I asked. “Of course I would. You’re worth it.” I felt my face start to get warm. “Really? I mean, yeah, of course I would love it if you were my boyfriend!” “Oh, you two are so cute,” Tara said. “Give him a kiss!” “Well … okay!” I said, going over to him. But instead of just standing in front of him, I jumped up, wrapping my legs around his waist, his arms around my neck. “I’m supposed to kiss you,” I said. “Since you’re my boyfriend and all.” He grinned. “Be my guest.”

Chapter Thirty-Five Graham I have a girlfriend. Having never had a girlfriend before, I found myself randomly thinking this thought at various times throughout the day. I might have been brushing my teeth, or getting into the truck, or even doing work on a customer—and that thought would suddenly be there. Such as right now, standing here behind the counter at work. I’d just hung up the phone with someone who’d scheduled an appointment for this weekend when the thought crossed my mind and brought a smile to my face. “What?” Helena asked, looking at me suspiciously. “You’ve been grinning like a fool since you got here.” “Sorry,” I said, not feeling sorry in the least. “I should go listen to some death metal and watch some Russian fail videos to make sure I’m grimacing for the rest of the day.” She laughed and shook her head. “You know what you should do? You should go through some of that mail on your desk out back. It’s getting out of control. I’ve done what I can for you—I opened it and sorted it into piles. But I’m not your secretary, either, you know. And the pile just keeps getting bigger and bigger.” “Right,” I said. “I know. I’ll get to it. And I appreciate you going through it and at least getting me started. That makes it a little less daunting.” She smiled. “You sure as hell don’t strike me as the type to be intimidated by a pile of papers. They’re on your desk.”

But it was intimidating, if only because I knew how long it was going to take me to go through all that shit. It would be so much easier to just chuck it all in the trash—I mean, recycling bin. I walked back to the office, where I was confronted by that looming pile of papers. A lot of it I was actually able to get rid of, almost right away—the credit card offers, the junk mail, the grocery store circulars. That took care of a lot of it, and I immediately felt better. There was a small stack of envelopes that Helena hadn’t opened, with a Post-it note on top: These look official and/or finance- related—thought I’d better leave them for you. H. I picked up the first envelope. It was from the bank that I’d taken out a loan with to start the business. I had the loan payments automatically deducted from my bank account each month, so I hadn’t received much correspondence from the bank, other than the monthly statements, which I didn’t look at but saved in a folder for the accountant. I opened the envelope, pulled out the papers, and was about to slide them into the folder. For some reason, though, I looked at the first page before I put them in, and I saw: 00.00. As in, that was the statement balance. What? I looked more closely. The loan was completely paid off, but I hadn’t expected that to happen until late next year. It must be some sort of clerical error. I didn’t feel like getting on the phone with the bank, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d forget about it and then this would probably come back to bite me in the ass. Even though it was clearly the bank’s mistake. “Fuck,” I said, probably more aggravated than I should be. But who the hell wants to spend half their day listening to shitty Muzak while they’re on hold with their bank? But I’d have to take care of it. Just not today.

I have a girlfriend. Today, I was feeling too good to deal with any of that shit.

Chapter Thirty-Six Chloe I was on my way back home from the art center when I got a call from Claudia, my mom’s friend and owner of the gallery where the art show was going to be. “Chloe!” she said. “How are you?” “Hi, Claudia. I’m good,” I said. “Just leaving the art center right now, actually.” “Oh, that’s great. How is your piece coming along?” “I had a few false starts,” I said. “But it’s coming along pretty well. It should be ready in time for the show.” “Excellent. I’m expecting a really great turnout. The last show we had went so well; this one shouldn’t be any different. It’s a really exciting opportunity.” “I’m definitely looking forward to it,” I said, pulling into the parking lot. “I’m a little nervous, actually.” “Oh, that’s entirely normal. You’re not the only one, trust me. But you’re talented, and there is no doubt in my mind that whatever you’ve come up with is going to be absolutely phenomenal.” It made me feel better to hear her say that, until I remembered that she’d never actually seen my work before and was just going off of whatever my mother had told her. I sighed. “Well, I really do appreciate the opportunity you’re giving me.” “Of course! Your mother couldn’t stop raving about your work, so it was a no-brainer

to give you a spot. I love having the chance to help out up-and-coming artists. You wouldn’t be the first one that I’ve helped, you know. Think about what you’d like to price your piece at, too. Oh, I’ve got to run, dear, I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up before I could reply. I tossed the phone down onto the passenger seat; my head felt like it was spinning a little. I knew I should just be grateful for the chance to actually be in the show, but I felt myself starting to have doubts about the whole thing. There were probably a lot more artists who were more worthy of having a spot in the show than I was, yet just because my mother was friends with Claudia and “couldn’t stop raving” about my work, I was given the spot. When I got home, both of my parents were there, waiting for me, it would seem. They were sitting in the living room, my father in his wingback chair, my mother on the couch. “Hi,” I said. They both had rather grim expressions on their faces. My mother also had a big glass of wine. “Hello dear,” she said. She took a big sip of wine. “How are you?” “I’m fine,” I said cautiously. “How are you guys?” “Chloe,” my father said. “Come in here. Have a seat.” I sat down, knowing that I wasn’t going to like whatever it was they were about to say. “So … I can tell this is going to be more than just a friendly little chat.” I swallowed, trying to quell the anxiety that had started to build in my chest. There was nothing for me to feel anxious about; I hadn’t done anything wrong. I knew this, yet there was part of me that felt as though they were about to blame me for something. I’d disliked this type of

anxiety so much that it was my main motivation as a kid to always do what was expected of me. But now, it seemed, it didn’t matter what I did; my parents would find something to take issue with. “Chloe,” my father started, his tone dripping with irritation, “this has all gone on long enough. Frankly, I’m getting sick of having this conversation with you. You’re a young woman who could have a bright future ahead of her if she stays on track. And as your parents, it’s our duty and responsibility to make sure that happens. We would not be very good parents if we simply stepped to the side and let you conduct yourself however you wanted. We’re not saying that you need to mindlessly follow everything we say. In fact, I feel as though we’ve given you quite a bit of freedom.” “How so?” I asked. My father looked genuinely surprised. “How so? Did we or did we not agree to let you go to that art school you so badly wanted to attend? Who’s financing that? Who’s paying for your living expenses?” “I appreciate all of that—you guys know that. But I kind of feel like you’re only okay with what I do so long as it’s what you want.” “That’s absolutely untrue.” My father pursed his lips and shook his head. “If you were doing exactly what we wanted you to do, art school wouldn’t have been on the table in the first place. I have an appreciation for the arts, Chloe. Your mother does too. But it’s very hard to make a living as an artist, and because we want to see you do well in life, I feel as though we need to steer you in a different direction. And this path you’re headed down now, seeing this guy, that’s just got to stop. And it’s got to stop now, because I am tired of having this conversation with you.” My mother was quiet, staring intently into her wine glass. I took a deep breath and tried not to let my own irritation show on my face. “I know, Dad. And you’re not the only

one who is getting sick of having this conversation.” “Yet it doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere, does it? Because I find myself saying the same thing, again and again. So I’m going to nip this in the bud, right here, right now. You are not to see Graham again.” My mouth dropped open. “What?” “You heard me, Chloe. But just so there is no confusion, I’ll repeat myself: you are no longer allowed to see Graham. End of story.” I looked over at my mother, who hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t she told me the night I came home and found her sitting outside that she didn’t think Graham was that bad? That he seemed nice? That we would all have to try again another time to get together? But now, she was just looking down at the fabric on the couch cushion, as though she were considering whether or not she wanted to reupholster it. “You can’t tell me that,” I said. “You can’t tell me that I can or cannot hang out with someone. I’m not a child.” “You may not be a child, but you’re living under my roof. I’m financing your education, and your apartment. Even though I don’t agree that a person can really have a future in the arts—not a profitable future, anyway. But it’s something that you always felt strongly about, and I wanted to support that. Because I want what’s best for you. And I knew how badly you wanted to go to art school. You may not realize it, but these things cost money.” “Of course I realize that!” I snapped. “I’m not an idiot, even though you seem to think I am.” “Then you can understand why I don’t want you hanging out with someone like Graham. He’s not the right person for you, and it just seems unproductive to be spending

your time with someone that you are ultimately not going to end up with.” I could only stare at him in disbelief. He was talking with such certainty that it almost made me doubt myself. But how could he know? How could he know that Graham wasn’t right for me? That we wouldn’t end up together? “You really have no idea what you’re talking about,” I finally managed to say. And that was the thing with my dad: he was always used to being in charge, in control of his situation, knowing what the outcome was going to be. And I’d always just got along with it, because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. “You can’t stand that, can you? You can’t stand the fact that I am doing something you don’t necessarily agree with. Even though I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not doing anything that’s hurting anyone.” “This is hurting me,” my father said. “It pains me a great deal to see you headed down the wrong path. And as your parent, it’s my duty and obligation to try to set you straight.” “You can tell yourself whatever you want, but you’re not right.” I shook my head. “I know for a fact that you are not right, at least not in this situation. Graham is a good person.” I looked at my mother. “Mom, you’ve been bugging me this whole summer about how I haven’t really dated anyone and how worried you are about that, and now I finally find someone that I actually like—and that wasn’t offered a job if he’d go out with me— and you guys are unwilling to accept that! I can’t believe it.” “You don’t know each other that well,” my mother finally said. “He may not be who you think he is. And what’s going to happen when the summer is over? He’s going to stay here; you’re going to go back to school. Long distance relationships hardly ever work out. You’re taking a gamble on someone that you barely even know.” I stood up. “Yeah, well, I’m willing to take that chance. You guys wouldn’t be happy with anyone unless you picked him out yourselves. But guess what? It’s not your life. And you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Then you are not allowed to live in this house,” my father said calmly. My mother gasped. “John! We’re not throwing her out.” “You’re right,” he said. “We’re not. We’re allowing her to make a choice. Just because she’s over 18 doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to follow the rules of the house, Claire. We are by no means, though, throwing her out.” They both looked at me, my father expectantly, my mother pleadingly. Neither really thought I would leave, though. There was a part of me that didn’t think I would do it, either. But what choice were they giving me? I was 21, not 12. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.” “Chloe, you can’t—” my mother started to say, but my father shushed her. “Let her go, Claire. She’s making her choice, and we’re not going to stop her.” “I think it’s really unfortunate that it’s come to this point,” I said. “I haven’t done anything wrong. You guys are acting like I’m some sort of criminal or drug addict or something. I’ve met someone that I actually like, and I’m spending time with him. So what if he doesn’t happen to fall into the same socioeconomic class as us? So what if he doesn’t look exactly how you think he should? I didn’t realize you would be so closedminded.” There was a part of me that knew my parents really only socialized with other people “like them,” but I had always assumed that they’d be welcoming to others, especially if they actually got the chance to know them. But now it seemed like they weren’t even willing to go that far. My father started to say something, but I’d heard enough. I walked out of the room. I went upstairs and dug through my closet for my duffle bag. I threw in some clothes, went and grabbed my toothbrush from the bathroom, found my purse, and then trotted back

downstairs. They were both in the living room, arguing. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, out of their line of sight. “I’m going to tell her she doesn’t have to leave,” my mother was saying. “You’ll do no such thing.” “But John, we can’t throw her out! Where will she go?” “Claire, it’s not our problem. And Chloe knows she is always welcome here so long as she is willing to follow the rules. If she wants to come back tonight—fine! We’re not asking that much. She’s making a big deal of it because she feels she needs to take a stand, but she’ll come around.” “I just ….” My mother’s voice broke and I knew she was about to start crying. “I’m leaving,” I said. I debated whether or not I should go in there, but decided against it. Nothing I said, short of promising to never hang out with Graham again, would change my father’s mind, and nothing they could say would change my mind, either. After I pulled out of the driveway and had driven a little ways, I called Tara. “Are you home? Can I come over?” I asked when she answered. “Of course you can,” she said. “I’m just hanging out by the pool. Everything okay? You sound upset.” “My parents just threw me out.” “What?!” “I’ll tell you when I get there.” “This has to do with Graham, I assume.” “You got it.”

“If you need a place to stay, you’re more than welcome to stay here! It’ll be like old times when we used to have slumber parties and sneak down and watch horror movies!” I laughed. “You know, that sounds exactly what I’d like to do tonight.” “Well, you better get your ass over here then! I’ll see you soon.” I hung up, still laughing a little. It felt good. ***** Tara’s mom, Melanie, answered the door. She immediately pulled me in for a hug. “Tara told me there’s a bit of upheaval happening at your house. I want you to know you’re welcome here as long as need be.” “Thanks,” I said. She pulled back from the hug and squeezed my shoulders. Tara’s mom hung out with my parents sometimes, but she’d always felt more like a big sister. When it came to fashion, she was far less conservative than my own mother, and she had a flair for bright colors, big purses, and gaudy jewelry. “Now, I don’t want to meddle or anything, but is this something maybe I should try talking to your parents about? Tara filled me in a little on the details, and the whole thing sounds like it’s a bit blown out of proportion.” “You don’t have to,” I said. “I appreciate the offer, but at this point, I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change my dad’s mind, anyway.” “Your dad can be awfully stubborn. Here, let’s leave your bag here. Tara’s out back.” I left my duffle bag in the big front entryway and followed Melanie out to the backyard. Tara was lying out by the pool. She sat up when she heard us. “So what on Earth is going on?” she asked.

“They don’t want me to see Graham anymore.” “The man from the tattoo place?” Melanie asked. I nodded. “I think I’ve seen him before, actually, when I was walking by there. He’s got a beard, right? He’s a nice-looking guy.” “My parents don’t think so. Well, my dad doesn’t, I think my mom would be willing to give him a chance. He actually came over a few days ago, but that went horribly. So now my parents just want me to stop seeing him. And they said if I didn’t, then I’d have to leave the house.” “Oh, my.” Melanie gave me a sympathetic look. “You really are welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. And again, I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I said something to your mother. I see her around a lot.” “I can’t believe it,” Tara said, shaking her head. “They really haven’t even given him a chance.” “They just don’t like him. They don’t think he’s the right person for me, they think that I’ll be heading down the wrong path if I keep seeing him.” I felt my anger start to flare as I spoke; were they really that closed-minded? And how long did they plan on not talking to me for? If Graham and I ended up together, would they just simply cut me out of their lives forever? “But it’s not up for them to decide how I live my life, and since I’m not doing anything to hurt anyone, and since Graham is not a bad person … they don’t get to dictate this.” Melanie patted my hand. “It’s never easy for a parent when they think their kids are doing something that’s not in their best interest. But, I know both your mom and dad, and they’re smart people. Hopefully they just need a little time to think about things and then they’ll change their minds.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “Anyway, I’ve got a hair appointment I have to get to, so I’ll leave you girls to chat. And I mean that, Chloe—

you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. Though I have a feeling you’ll be back home sooner than you think.” “Thanks, Melanie,” I said. “Kicked out of your own home,” Tara said. “I can’t believe it. You rebel, you.” “I’m still kind of having a hard time believing this happened. I mean, it did really happen, right? That’s why I’m sitting here, that’s why there’s a bag of my clothes in your front hallway?” “I’m sure your parents will come to their senses. They probably can’t believe that you decided to leave, either. But for now, you can at least enjoy a transient existence for the next couple of days. Which is about as long as something like that is fun for.” “Well, I appreciate you letting me stay here.” “Of course. It’s the least I can do, considering how you guys came to my rescue the other night and that whole thing with Michael.” “He always kind of creeped me out, if I’m going to be honest. I couldn’t let you go meet him by yourself.” “I do feel kind of embarrassed about how that all went down. I really don’t think that Michael would’ve done anything, but …” she shrugged and tried to laugh, though I could see that she was a bit troubled by what could have potentially happened. “So … I really am glad that you decided to tag along, and even more so that Graham showed up.” “You know I couldn’t let anything bad happen to you,” I said. I kept my tone lighthearted, but I was immensely relieved that things had turned out the way they had and not worse. Tara might not be willing to admit it out loud, but I suspected Michael was the sort of person who would have no problems holding someone hostage for as long as he felt like, just because he was so used to getting his way.

“And yes, I realize that it was stupid of me to want to make him jealous in the first place. Graham even said something about it to me, but I didn’t listen. He’ll probably give me a lecture the next time I see him, or at least an “I told you so,” and I totally deserve it. But I learned my lesson. God, what was I thinking, anyway? I realized when I saw him how glad I was that we weren’t together anymore. And then I was just sitting there, wondering why I’d even agreed to meet up with him in the first place. I just … I don’t know, I realized that it wasn’t worth it. But yeah, I feel like a fool.” “We all make mistakes sometimes,” I said, wondering if I myself might have made a mistake by walking out the way I did. I hoped I hadn’t, but there was a small part of me that felt uncertain.

Chapter Thirty-Seven Graham “So, you’ve got a girlfriend.” Todd shook his head slowly, brow furrowed in an expression of pure perplexity. We were out on a ride and had stopped so Todd could demolish a package of energy chews. I hadn’t planned on mentioning anything to him about Chloe, but then he asked if I was still hanging out with Chloe or if I’d started sleeping with other girls, too. “Didn’t we start this summer with you swearing off getting laid? How does this happen?” “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just one of those things that happens when you’re not expecting it?” “Now it sounds like you’re quoting to me from the last fortune cookie you got. No, I’m serious—I’d really like some sort of explanation as to why the fuck the guy who swears off sex is now the guy who is not only getting laid, but is actually in a relationship. And you’re winning races! How is all this possible? Granted, it was the one race that I didn’t go to, so I’m sure I would’ve beaten you if I’d been there, but ….” He looked at me with a mix of awe and envy. “I mean, really, it’s like you’re having the best year of your life or something. The best summer, anyway.” “It hasn’t been bad.” “No shit! You’ve even won a race. Are we still going up to the race this weekend?” “Yeah. I think it’ll probably be my last one, though.” “Really? If my summer was going as well as yours was, I’d go all out and do as many

races as I could. You should probably start playing the lottery, too.” He tipped the package of energy chews into his mouth and then, once the last one was gone, crumpled the wrapper and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jersey. “I am happy for you, though. Now all you need to do is find a girl for me.” “I’ll see what I can do,” I said. Maybe I could ask Chloe if she had any ideas. Tara might be a possibility, and after dealing with someone like that guy Michael, Todd would probably seem like the perfect gentleman. “Good. Come on, let’s get going or my legs are going to cramp up. I want to get at least another 10 miles in; I may not win this weekend, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you beat me.” ***** I’d left my phone in the truck while Todd and I were riding, so when I got back, I saw that Chloe had called, and then sent a text. Give me a call when you can, was all it said. I loaded the bike up and said bye to Todd, and then called her as I was driving back to the house. “Are you at home?” she asked. “I was thinking of stopping by. If you are. If you aren’t, it’s okay, I can just—” “Hey,” I said. I wouldn’t have interrupted her except she sounded a little frazzled. “I’m not home yet, but I should be soon. Feel free to head over, and if you beat me there, I won’t be far behind. Everything okay?” “Oh, sure,” she said, in a tone that indicated maybe everything wasn’t actually okay. “I’ll just … I’ll just talk to you when I see you. Okay, bye.” She hung up before I could say anything else, leaving me to wonder what exactly was

going on. But it looked like I’d find out soon enough, because she was just pulling in when I got there. “Good timing,” I said. “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” “Well, my parents basically gave me the ultimatum yesterday,” she said. “They told me to either stop seeing you or get out of their house.” “Whoa, wait—they kicked you out? This just happened?” “They wouldn’t say I was kicked out; they’d say I made my choice. But yeah. They kicked me out.” She had a perplexed look on her face, similar to the one Todd had worn earlier. “Shit, I’m sorry.” What a bunch of dickheads. Guess I hadn’t made the good first impression that I’d been hoping for. “Should we break up?” That at least got a smile from her. “No! We are definitely not breaking up. They’re not allowed to just tell me what I should do anymore. And if that means I don’t get to stay with them, then so be it.” I had to smile at the indignation in her tone. “I am sorry, though. I don’t want to be causing all this conflict.” She sighed. “I don’t think it matters. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been something else. I mean, it was kind of already happening, with art school. So, I’m staying at Tara’s for now.” “Yeah? I was thinking about maybe introducing her to my buddy Todd. He was asking me if I had anyone in mind today. But we don’t have to talk about that now. So, you’re staying at her place? She seems like she’d be a good host.” “Oh, she is. Her mom’s great, too.” “You can always stay with me, if you want.” Those words slipped out before I’d

really even had time to think about it; I’d never had anyone stay over for longer than my usual one-night stands. But I wasn’t about to admit that, or retract my offer—in part, I realized, because I actually hoped Chloe would say “yes.” “Really?” she asked. “You’re not just saying that to be nice?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not just saying that to be nice. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. If you’re happy staying with Tara, though, I understand; it’s not going to hurt my feelings if you don’t want to stay over.” “Her parents’ house is so big I basically have my own wing. But …” She looked at me, the perplexed look giving way to a grin. “I wouldn’t mind staying with you some of the time, either. I’m sure Tara would understand. She’d be all for it, I bet.” “My door’s open for you any time.” “I’ll come over tomorrow, then. Tara and I are going to go out to dinner tonight, and I’ll just go back to her house after that.” “Sure. I’ve got tomorrow off, so come by whenever you want. Unless your parents call before then and want to make nice with you. Don’t you think that will happen? They seem like those sort of people.” Really, what they seemed like were the type of people that wouldn’t want word to get out that there was discord in the family, that their daughter had been thrown out of the house. Where it had been a rather regular occurrence in my own childhood home—I swear that one of Wade’s favorite activities had been to get wasted, pick a fight, and then kick me out for the night—I doubted that anything even remotely close to this had ever happened between Chloe and her parents. “You know, I bet your parents will come to their senses,” I said. Her dad seemed like the type who would need a day or two to calm down. “I don’t know. My dad can be so stubborn. And if he finds out that I’m staying with

you, that will just piss him off even more.” She frowned, considering this. “But you know what? I don’t care.” ***** And suddenly, I’d gone from single to girlfriend to live-in girlfriend. I’d never woken up next to someone on a regular basis. Never gotten used to seeing a woman brushing her teeth in my bathroom, or putting a half-full glass of water on the bedside table each night before she crawled into bed. It had only been four days, but I could already feel us falling into a routine. Not that we were going to bed at the same time every night or eating the same shit for dinner, but rather, the routine of being used to seeing someone, of knowing that they’d be there when you got home from work, or that you’d be eating breakfast together in the morning. That Sunday, though, I got up early for the race. I got dressed and made coffee and ate a quick breakfast, trying to keep quiet so I didn’t wake up Chloe. But she was stirring when I went in there to tell her I was taking off. “You can come with, if you want,” I said. She smiled and gave me a kiss. “I wouldn’t mind it, but I don’t want to interfere with guy time. Tell Todd I’ll give Tara his number if he’d like. She deserves to go out with a nice guy. Plus, I really should spend a bunch of time at the art center, and this way, if you’re gone, I’ll be less likely to get distracted. The show’s coming up, you know.” “I know. I’m really looking forward to it. You don’t want to give me any hint about the sculpture?” “No, I want it to be a surprise.” “Well, okay then, I guess I’ll have to wait.” I pulled her back toward me and gave her another long, lingering kiss. “You know, I really shouldn’t make it a habit to kiss you

before I leave, because it just makes me want to crawl back into bed and not get out.” She gently bit at my lower lip. “When you get back,” she said. ***** I picked Todd up and we drove over to the race together. I was ready for this to be the last race of my season, even though the actual season would continue well into the fall. The novelty of it was starting to wear off, and I’d need until next spring to build up the interest again. We got there and parked in a field that was right next to the trail head where the race would start. I climbed out of the truck and stretched, feeling my back crack in several places. “I’m feeling good,” Todd said. “In fact, I think I feel better now than I did for any other race, so don’t be surprised to be chasing me the entire time.” “I’m prepared to chase you for the first 90 percent, and then overtake you at the last second. You know you can’t pedal for shit the last five miles.” It was true, he couldn’t—he was one of those guys that could spend a good majority of a race near the front but the tank would be empty the last few miles. But if it came down to it, and I was in the position to overtake him at the end, I’d lay off and let him take the win. He’d feel good about it and have something to give me shit over, and winning the race really didn’t matter to me at all. “Hey, there’s your boy,” Todd said. “He’s not looking so great. Damn, that bike of his is, though.” I looked over and saw Parker approaching, walking next to a bike that was even more impressive-looking than his previous one. As he got closer, I could see it was full carbon fiber, carbon rims, electronic brakes and shifting.

“Nice rig you got there,” I said. “Thanks.” There was no banter or good-natured ribbing, though; he mostly looked tired and worn out. “You sure you shouldn’t sit this one out and go take a nap?” I asked. He smiled, but it looked forced. “Even if I did, you know I’d still beat you.” “Like last time?” “Yeah, like last time,” he said, as though he’d forgotten or was just choosing not remember that I had, in fact, beaten him. “See you guys.” We watched him go. “He looks out of it,” Todd said. “Probably hung over. Well, he shouldn’t be a factor today, so at least I’ve got that going for me.” “You might have something else going for you,” I said. “Oh?” “Well, Chloe has this friend, Tara. There’s a good chance she might be interested in going out with you. If that’s something you’re still interested in doing. Chloe said she’ll pass your number along.” Todd grinned and slapped my shoulder. “Good lookin’ out!” he said. “I’d be more than happy to. She was the one with Chloe that night they first came in, right?” “Good memory.” “Yeah, that would be great. Let me just win this race now, so I can regale her with tales of my athletic prowess.” We unloaded the bikes and Todd changed into his kit. There was about 10 minutes until they called the start for our race, so I rode around the field, warming up. I saw Parker, who was also on his bike, but he was pedaling along slowly, looking like he should really be at home in bed, not at a bike race about to compete.



Chapter Thirty-Eight Chloe It was exciting, staying here with Graham, yet there was a part of me that felt the whole thing was unreal. I was living with the guy I was having sex with. I didn’t know what was going to happen at the end of the summer; if my parents refused to pay my tuition, I wouldn’t be able to return to school. At least not this semester, and though I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t know how I’d go about raising the funds in order to go back. “I’m really not sure what I’m going to do if summer ends and my parents still haven’t talked to me,” I told Graham. We were having another lazy morning in bed, which had quickly become one of my favorite things. “You’ve still got some time before you have to really worry about that,” he said. “I know. And chances are, we’ll probably get all this resolved by then, anyway. But what if we don’t?” “You can always stay here. Come work for me—you can be the counter girl.” He grinned. “I know that’s not your lifelong ambition, of course.” “I’m starting to wonder what my lifelong ambition is. Maybe it is working the counter at a tattoo shop. My parents would be mortified.” “That could be your tactic, then. You could threaten them with that if they didn’t pay for your tuition.” I knew, though, that there were plenty of students who didn’t have help from their

parents the way I did, either because their parents didn’t want to or they just didn’t have the money. It would be pathetic if I didn’t finish my final year of school just because my parents weren’t going to foot the bill. “I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Right now I just need to focus on my sculpture.” “Yeah, that art opening is coming up, isn’t it?” He rolled onto his back and stretched. “Holy hell, I could stay here in this bed all day with you. If I don’t get up now, I’m afraid that I might.” I traced my fingers across the tight muscles of his abdomen. “I certainly wouldn’t mind that. But I should probably get up, too.” We both reluctantly got up. While he made coffee, I scrambled a few eggs and put some bread in the toaster. When it was ready, we sat at the table and ate, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was actually living like an adult. It felt different than how I did when I was at my apartment; I almost felt more at home here, even though this wasn’t really my home either. It was hard to explain, other than it seemed like being with Graham, and being here, was the right thing to do. After we finished eating, he got ready to leave for work. “I’ll see you later on,” he said, giving me a kiss. He pulled back and looked into my eyes, a smile spreading across his face. “I can’t believe how domestic this all is. But I like it.” I kissed him again, longer this time. “I like it, too.” After he left, I got my stuff together and went down to the art center. Now more than ever, the idea I had seemed to be pertinent, and I worked for several hours straight without taking a break. Would my parents even bother coming to the opening? At this point, and if things didn’t change, it seemed unlikely. I decided to take a break and go out and get some lunch, since I hadn’t brought any

food with me. I went back to Lorraine’s, because, despite what my mother thought, the food there was quite good, and I liked the atmosphere. It was crowded when I got there, so instead of waiting for a table, I went over to the bar and sat down. I flipped through the menu and then looked at the big chalkboard on the far wall, stating the specials. It was Monday, and the Monday lunch special was a quiche Lorraine, which sounded good, so I ordered that, along with an orange juice and a coffee. I’d just taken my first bite of quiche when I heard someone say my name. I turned and saw a woman I didn’t recognize at first. She was wearing a tight black tank top and cutoffs, just like I was. “Chloe!” she said, sliding onto the empty stool next to me. She looked at my outfit. “Hey, we’re twins!” It was Graham’s mother. For one panicked second, I couldn’t remember her name, but then it came to me. “Hi, Janice,” I said. “Are you here with my son?” She swiveled around on the stool, craning her neck, surveying the whole restaurant. “I don’t see him.” “No, he’s not here. I’m just taking a break, actually.” She gave me a surprised look. “You’re working? Like a job?” I knew what that look said: no way a spoiled, rich girl like you is on her lunch break from a job. My parents were being judgmental assholes about this whole thing with Graham, but, I realized, it could also go the other way, because here was his mom, sitting here, judging me just because my parents were wealthy. “It’s not a job, exactly,” I said. “I’m working on a sculpture.” “Oh.” Janice looked a little smug. “So, it’s not a job at all, then. I’ll take a large iced coffee,” she said to one of the waitresses behind the counter.

“Well, no, it’s not a job, but it’s something that I’m spending a lot of time on, and it’s going to be in an art show at the end of the summer.” I could hear the defensive note in my voice, and I was suddenly overcome with the desire to make her understand that I wasn’t someone who just sat around and expected everything to be given to me on a silver platter. “An art show,” she said. “Now that sounds fancy. I tried to go to an art museum once. In Boston. I thought it’d be a nice way to spend the day, and I’d always been hearing people talk about what a fine experience it was, how they felt so enriched by it, blah blah blah. So I went and I was thoroughly unimpressed. Half of the shit didn’t even seem like art; it was like something a 5-year-old could do.” “You must’ve gone to the MoMA.” “The whatta?” “The Museum of Modern Art. Sometimes modern art can seem like that. Like it was done by a 5-year-old.” She waved me off. “Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t remember what it was called, I just remember not enjoying myself and leaving not feeling enriched. I like art, just not that kind. That’s where Graham gets it, you know. So, have you still been seeing him? I don’t talk to him nearly as much as I’d like to, so I don’t really know what’s going on in his life.” “Yeah,” I said. I paused, wondering if I should just leave it at that or actually tell her we were going out. “We’re … we’re kind of seeing each other.” She looked at me curiously. “Seeing each other? Dating, you mean?” “Um … yeah. Like, boyfriend and girlfriend.” “I see.” She nodded slowly. “This is the first I’m hearing of it, of course, because, like I said, Graham doesn’t really seem to have much time for me these days.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if this was true or not. “Is he paying you to say that? He knows where to find me if he wants, and he doesn’t ever seem to come around to visit, so I don’t think he’d be that thrilled to see me. But I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes, right? I try not to get hurt feelings over it. He’s an adult, he’s got his own life, I know how it goes.” “My parents aren’t really speaking to me at the moment,” I blurted out. I knew Janice didn’t really like me, so there wasn’t much point in telling her any of this, but I just found myself unable to stop talking. “They’re pissed because I’m seeing Graham. More than that though, they’re pissed because I’m not just doing what they say anymore. I was like that for a while. I just always did what I thought they wanted. At first because I thought that was the right thing, and then later just because I didn’t want to make them mad, because it just seemed easier. But I realize that was stupid, because now they just expect me to do what they think I should.” Janice took a sip of her iced coffee. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I don’t know the details, but it sounds like one of those situations that will just blow over if you give it enough time.” “I don’t know. My father can be really stubborn when he wants to be. And my mom is just kind of going along with him.” “You should call your mom. I don’t know the woman, but I’m sure she’d like to speak with you.” “I know,” I said. “I should, but ….” “Men are different. Men can just turn their emotions on and off at will, it seems. But a mom will always want to talk to her child. Has Graham ever mentioned his father?”

“No, I don’t think he has.” “Graham’s father was able to just completely act like Graham didn’t even exist. Had no interest in ever even meeting him. Could you imagine that? Having a child out there in the world that you’ve never met? That you don’t even care about? No way I could ever do something like that.” “That’s awful,” I said. “It is awful. But of course, that’s just what men do. Well, some men. And I did as good as I could with Graham, which, I can admit, wasn’t always perfect. But I’ve always wanted the best for him. And it sounds like that’s what your parents want, too, even if they’re not going about expressing that the right way.” Janice nudged me with her elbow. “You know what you should do? You should give her a call. You’re her daughter; I’m sure she misses you a great deal, even if it has only been a few days. I know I miss Graham, but I try not to bug him too much. I don’t care what kind of argument we got into; I’d always be happy to get a call from him. I bet your mom feels the same way.” “Maybe you’re right,” I said. After I finished eating, I stayed and talked with Janice a little while longer, and then I told her I had to get back to the studio. “Thanks for being such a good lunch date,” Janice said. “It was my pleasure,” I said. “And I’ll tell Graham to give you a call or something. Or you could come over for dinner.” “I don’t want to get my hopes up, but that does sound nice. Thanks, Chloe.” I smiled and said bye, and as I left, I decided that maybe Graham’s mother didn’t dislike me, after all. *****

I drove back to the art center, but when I got there, I sat out in the parking lot, phone in my hand. Janice was right; I just needed to call my mother and at least say “hi.” Ask how she was doing. The worst she could do was hang up on me, and I didn’t think she would do something like that, if for no other reason than she wouldn’t think it was good manners. I scrolled through my recent calls list until I came to her name. Mom. I stared at the three letters, stalling, and then I touched the screen. The phone rang, once, then twice, and then she picked up. “Chloe?” “Hi, Mom. Is now a good time to talk?” “Of course it is! I’ve been wanting to call you but I just haven’t. It’s not because I haven’t been thinking about you. I ran into Melanie the other day and she said that you’d been staying at her house, but that she hadn’t seen you the past couple of days. I assume that everything is okay?” “Yeah, I’m okay.” “I’ve been really worried. I know that you’re an adult and everything, Chloe, but I just hated the way everything happened with your father that night. I wasn’t expecting him to say that at all. I thought we were just going to have another talk with you. Let you know how we felt about Graham.” “But how can you say that, Mom? You were just telling me before that that you thought he was nice. That you wanted to see him again.” “What I really want is for everyone to get along. I don’t want there to be fighting, and I don’t like conflict. I want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you? I hate this, I don’t want things to be this way. It’s summer! We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves, not

fighting! And I’ve missed you,” my mother said. She sniffed, and I could tell she was crying. “I miss you too, Mom.” “I’d like to see you. And you know what? I don’t care what your father says; I’m not going to spend the rest of the summer exiling you. I want to see Graham, too. If he is someone that you like, and he treats you well, then yes, I want to give him a chance. Why don’t the two of you come with me to the yacht club tomorrow? You don’t have to stay all day; we could just do lunch, if you wanted.” I hesitated. “I would be more than happy to do that, but is that a good idea?” When my father wasn’t golfing, he could usually be found at the yacht club, and I didn’t know how well it would go over if he happened to see the three of us there. I didn’t want to fight anymore, either, but I also didn’t want to make things worse between him and my mother. “Don’t worry; your father will be gone all day. He and a few friends are going to golf on Nantucket for the day. Please, sweetie? I’d really like to see you, and I’d like it if you brought Graham along. I mean it.” It felt weird to be making plans like this, as though we were both sneaking around behind my father’s back. But my mom was inviting not just me, but Graham, too. She wanted to see us both. And I didn’t really feel like going to the yacht club, but that was her comfort zone and maybe she’d feel more at ease there. “Sure,” I said. “We can do that.” “Okay, great. I am so glad you called me. Why don’t we plan on meeting there tomorrow around noon? Does that work?” “Noon sounds good,” I said. “We’ll see you then.” “I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you, too.” After we hung up, I sat there in the car for a few more minutes. The call had actually gone better than I’d thought it would have, and now, I could only hope that tomorrow would go smoothly, too. First, though, I’d have to convince Graham that he wanted to go. ***** I was pleased with the amount of progress I’d made on my sculpture when I finally left the art center for the day. I was also glad that I’d listened to Janice’s advice and called my mother. Graham had sent me a text and said he’d be home earlier than he thought since one of his appointments had rescheduled, so I decided to stop at the grocery store and pick something up to make for dinner. My culinary skills wouldn’t win me any awards or anything, but Alicia had showed me once how to make clams and linguine, which was simple to make but tasted exquisite. When Graham got home, I was just draining the pasta. “Whoa,” he said as he walked in. “Something smells good.” “I’ve made dinner,” I said. “And it will be ready in two minutes.” “I’m feeling like quite the lucky guy. I don’t think anyone’s made me dinner before.” “Well, then, I’m glad I get to be the first. You get to be the first guy I’ve slept with; I get to be the first girl who’s cooked you dinner.” “Good trade-off, I’d say.” “You haven’t tried the food yet.” He laughed. “Touché.” But the food turned out to be quite good. It was hard to mess up pasta, and so long as

you had butter, olive oil, garlic, clams, and white wine, it was hard to mess up the sauce, too. “This is delicious,” he said. “I could probably eat about two pounds of this. I didn’t really have lunch today, it was so busy.” I took another bite; it had come out quite good. “I was pretty busy today, too. But I did happen to stop for lunch. I went to Lorraine’s, actually. You should maybe give your mom a call.” He made a face. “Why?” “I actually ran into her today.” He gave me a quizzical look. “Please tell me you weren’t applying for a job down at The Finery.” “No way,” I said, hitting his shoulder lightly. “I told you—I was taking a break from the sculpture and I decided to go get lunch, so I went to Lorraine’s and your mom was there.” “Oh, right. Yesterday was Monday. She always goes to Lorraine’s on Monday.” “She gave me some good advice.” “I can just imagine. Actually, I don’t think I even want to know.” “We had a nice chat. It started off a little awkwardly, but then we started talking about parents and stuff and … I don’t know. I can tell she loves you. She misses you. She …” I paused. “She told me a little about your father.” “Oh, Jesus.” He put his fork down. “I really don’t want to know.” “We don’t have to get into it,” I said. “That’s good, I’d really rather not. There’s no need to spoil this fine meal that you’ve

made.” “All right. We can talk about something totally neutral. Like … the weather.” Graham picked up his fork and started eating again. “Tell me how your sculpture’s coming along.” “Really good. I was able to get a lot of work done today, and I’m happy with how it turned out.” “That’s great. Still a secret, though?” “Top secret.” He took another bite. “Well, if it’s even half as good as this food, then you’ll be in good shape.” “Why, thank you. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” We watched a movie after dinner and then got ready for bed. I’d felt tired when we’d been sitting together on the couch, but now that I could actually close my eyes, I could tell sleep was a long way off. I turned to Graham and curved my body against the length of him, draping my leg over his. I could feel his cock, which was hard and getting harder as I gently squeezed it. He groaned softly into my hair, running his fingers down my flank. I could feel myself getting wet as he slid a hand between my legs, his fingers probing. “You feel so good,” he whispered as he slipped first one finger, then another, inside of me. I ran my hand up and down his cock. “So do you,” I said. We started to kiss—long, slow kisses, our tongues entwining. I moaned against him as he pushed his fingers further into me, rotating his wrist slowly in a clockwise motion. It felt so good, but I needed more, I needed him inside of me.

“I want you inside of me,” I whispered. He reached over to the bedside table. He opened the packet, then slid the condom down onto his shaft and then lay back on the bed. I straddled him, easing myself lower until I felt him pressing against me. He held onto my hips and guided me down, his cock easily sliding into me because of my wetness. I let out a deep breath as I lowered myself all the way down. He kept one hand gripping my hip bone and brought the other up to cup my breast. I closed my eyes and focused on the warm, tingling sensation that seemed to be encompassing my entire body. I began to rock back and forth. An intense shiver shot up my spine each time I moved my hips back; there seemed to be a spot that his cock would press against just right each time I shifted back. I bit my lip to try to keep from crying out too loudly, but it felt so good I couldn’t help the little moans that escaped from my mouth. He squeezed my nipple a few times, almost enough to hurt, but not quite, and then brought that hand down and began massaging my clit. It felt so good, I threw my head back and shrieked; if someone had been outside and heard me, they probably would’ve thought I was getting bludgeoned to death. But this was like the exact opposite of that; I couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. I moved my hips faster, grinding into him, not just back and forth, but side to side, and then in a spiraling counterclockwise motion. He was breathing in ragged gasps, his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck sticking out. That incredible feeling kept building and building, and I knew with his hand there on my clit and his cock so deep inside me that I would hit the peak in just a few seconds if I kept on like this. Part of me wanted to, of course, but another part wanted to prolong it, ease off a little so we could keep doing it and make it last as long as possible. I liked the feeling of being in control of it, and he groaned as I started to swivel my hips again. “You’re torturing me,” he said. “God, you look good.” I started to grind into him, with increasing force, until I couldn’t control myself. I

wanted to back off again, make it last, torture him a little more, but I couldn’t. It was as if some unseen force had overtaken me, my body reduced to pure sensation, almost as if my energy was mixing with Graham’s and becoming one. It felt like a gigantic wave rising and overtaking me, and I bit down on my lip as I came. He came a second later, pulling me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me and holding me there like he was never going to let go. ***** I realized, as I was starting to drift off, that I hadn’t even mentioned the conversation with my mother, and going out to lunch with her tomorrow. It was dark in the room, but I could tell by Graham’s rhythmic breathing that he’d already fallen asleep. I wasn’t too far behind. I could talk to him about this tomorrow morning, I decided, nestling up next to him. ***** The next morning, we both slept in, and then woke up slowly, limbs entwined in each other’s. I felt him kiss my forehead, then the tip of my nose, then my lips as I stretched, a smile going across my face. “So,” I said, “I know we were planning to go to the beach, but how would you feel about going to the yacht club instead?” He smiled. “Is that a rhetorical question?” “No. But I talked to my mother yesterday. And I think she was crying, and she was saying that she missed me and she wanted to go out to lunch. At the yacht club, of course, which is basically her comfort zone. I told her we could go.” “We?” “Yes. She wanted you to go, too. And she made certain to assure me that my dad would be gone all day golfing, so we wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him.” I paused, thinking

about it again. If you had told me at the beginning of the summer that this was how things would be, I never in a million years would have believed it. “How is it things turned out like this? It’s so weird.” He ran his hand down my side and let it rest on my hip. “I like how you ambush me after a night of sex with this question,” he said. “I’m in a vulnerable state. I’d say yes to anything.” “Great.” I kissed him. “Thank you.” “How’d it go with your mom, though? They ready to have you back home?” “I wouldn’t go that far. But she wants to see us both. It’s really my father that has the problem. So, I think we should go. How does that sound?” “Like I said, after a night like last night, I’d agree to anything. But sure, let’s do it. Today?” “Yeah.” “And it’s at the yacht club? I’ve never been to the yacht club before, you know. In fact, I think I used to make fun of people that would pay thousands of dollars a year just so they could hang out at a place called a ‘yacht club.’ I’m joking … mostly. But do they listen to yacht rock there? That’s the important question.” I grinned. “I guess you’ll just have to go there and find out.” ***** Of course, I didn’t really have anything to wear for lunch; I’d left the few dresses and skirts I had at my parents’ house. My dad was probably long gone for his golf trip by this point, but I called Tara instead, and asked if she had anything I could borrow. “You know, I actually do have something that would be perfect for you,” she said. “And you know what? If you like it, you can have it; it’s a little too long for my tastes.

Mom and I are headed to the beach in a few minutes; want me to drop it by?” “Sure,” I said. “That’d be great.” “Do you have shoes?” “Shit. No.” There was no way I’d be able to squeeze my feet into any of Tara’s shoes, either. “I’ll borrow something from my mom.” “No, you don’t have to—” “See you soon!” She hung up. ***** Graham was in the shower when Tara arrived. “Look at this dress!” she said, holding it up in front of me. “You’ll look great in it.” The dress was a dark sapphire blue, and it had a vintage, 50s look, with capped sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flowing skirt that would probably stop right above my knees. “Wow,” I said, taking the dress from her and letting the silky fabric run through my fingers, “it’s beautiful.” “It’s yours!” “You’re sure you don’t want it?” Tara shook her head. “No. I mean, it’s gorgeous, but like I said—way too long on me! It’ll be perfect for you. And, to go along with it …” She held out a pair of bright pink pumps with at least a 3-inch heel. “These will go perfectly!” She handed me the shoes. “No,” I said, catching sight of the label. I tried to hand them back. “There is no way in

hell I am wearing a pair of your mother’s Manolo Blahniks!” Even I had seen enough episodes of Sex and the City to know that there is was no way in hell a girl like me should be wearing shoes like that. “Tara, these were probably a thousand dollars!” She waved me off. “So what? My mom probably has half a dozen pairs of them. And they’ll go perfectly with that dress! You will look amazing.” “I can’t. They’re your mom’s.” “And you guys have the same size feet. She’s only worn them like once.” “Exactly! I can’t wear them.” Tara sighed. “I told her I was giving you this dress to wear out to lunch at the yacht club. Then she asked me what you were wearing with it, and I said, knowing you, probably nothing because you didn’t have any jewelry. She said that was too bad. And then she asked what shoes. And I jokingly said you were going to wear flip-flops, and you know my mom, she immediately went over to her closet and dug these out and said you had to wear them, because they’d go perfectly. You need the pop of color to go with the dark blue.” I probably would not have taken the shoes if I had anything else even remotely close to resembling a dress shoe. But I didn’t; all I had were my sandals and a pair of sneakers. “Go try it on!” Tara said. “Okay,” I said, clutching the shoes and dress to my chest. “Here goes nothing.” I went in the bedroom and changed into the dress. I didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know that it fit perfectly. The fabric felt silky smooth against my skin. I slipped the shoes on one by one and then stood for a moment, giving myself a chance to get used to the feel. I rarely wore high heels, but I did like the way I felt in these. At least right now I did; a few hours from now, I’d probably be crying in pain.

I made my way slowly out of the bedroom, back to the living room where Tara was waiting. She grinned and clapped her hands together when she saw me. “Look at you!” she exclaimed. “Holy shit, you look amazing. Where’s a mirror?” “In the bathroom. Graham’s still in there, though. I think I just heard the shower go off.” “Well, you need to see how hot you look. And those shoes just make the outfit. What should we do with your hair?” “I don’t know, I think I was just going to put it up? It doesn’t need to be anything crazy; we’re just going to lunch.” “Your mom is going to freak when she sees how you good you look.” “Damn.” I turned and saw Graham standing there, bare-chested, towel wrapped around his waist. “Look at you. That’s quite the outfit.” He smiled at Tara. “Hey, what’s up,” he said. “I’m guessing you brought the dress over? I know she didn’t find it in my closet.” “Doesn’t she look amazing?” Tara asked. Graham kept his gaze on me for a few seconds, taking it all in. I felt myself blush. “Yeah,” he said. “She sure does.” I went into the bathroom so I could see exactly how I looked. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw my reflection; in part, I think, because I wasn’t used to seeing myself wearing something like this, but also just because the dress fit me just right and the shoes accentuated my legs and the whole outfit had just come together perfectly. “I guess I better go get dressed, too,” Graham said. Tara messed around with my hair a little bit, though it was so short there weren’t many options. “A headband might look cute,” she said. “I really do like it short.” “Thanks. I do, too.”

Graham emerged from his room looking a little skeptical. “Yeow!” Tara yelled. “Lookin’ good!” And he was. He was wearing a pair of jeans, cuffed, with a black, short-sleeve buttondown that he’d paired with low-cut Doc Martens. Few people wore jeans to the yacht club, but he was somehow able to make it look like a fancy outfit. “You look great!” I said. “I figured the rockabilly look would go along with your dress.” “Let me take a picture of you two,” Tara said. We stood next to each other and she took a couple pictures, and I looked at myself in the mirror once more before we left. The dress fit perfectly. I didn’t know if I’d ever be used to seeing myself wearing something like this, but even I knew that it looked good. ***** We met my mother at the lounge and her eyes lit up when she saw us walk in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was excited to see us,” Graham whispered as we walked over. “Wow!” she exclaimed. She threw her arms around me as though we hadn’t seen each other in years, not days. “Look at the two of you!” She turned to Graham with the same enthusiasm but refrained from hugging him. She hesitated, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do, and then finally held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it. You both look great. Where did you get that dress, Chloe? And those shoes!” My mother kept up a steady stream of chatter as we moved from the lounge to the restaurant, which was overlooking the ocean. There was a gentle breeze rolling in and the air smelled like salt.

“Why don’t we sit here,” my mother said, gesturing to one of the empty, white linencovered tables. “I’m going to go use the ladies’ room, but you two can start looking over the menu.” “Sounds good,” Graham said. My mom gave us another big smile and then walked to the bathroom. We were about to sit down when something over my shoulder caught Graham’s eye. “Hey, there’s Parker,” he said. I groaned. “Are you serious?” “Now, that wouldn’t be a very funny joke if it wasn’t him, would it?” “Is he looking? Can we just pretend that we don’t see him—” “He sees us. Here he comes.” Graham nudged me. “Just smile and tell him how good he looks in that pink polo shirt.” I turned, taking a deep breath. I hadn’t seen Parker since the beach party, and I could only imagine how awkward this conversation was going to be. His shirt was very pink. But as he got closer, I saw how shitty he looked. Pale, tired, and nothing like I remembered him. “Parker,” I said, unable to keep the surprised note out of my voice. “Hey there, guys.” His tone was subdued, though I could tell he was trying to play it off like everything was normal, when it so clearly wasn’t. “Are you okay?” I asked. He was okay enough to look highly annoyed that I was even asking him that question in the first place. “I’m fine,” he said coolly. “How are you two?” “Yeah, man,” Graham said, a concerned expression on his face. “You’re not looking so good. You been training too hard? Why don’t you give yourself a little break—I’m done

with racing for the season, anyway.” “Just met my dad down here for some lunch,” he said. “Then I’ll probably head home and take a little nap or something. I haven’t been sleeping well, is all.” “A nap would be good then.” I glanced in the direction of the ladies’ room, hoping that Parker would leave before my mother returned. It was awkward enough having to stand here and talk with him, but I could only imagine how much more awkward it would be if she were here, especially if she mentioned the whole thing with my father. “I’m gonna go sit down,” Parker said. “All right, see ya, man.” Graham and I both had concerned looks on our faces as he walked off, but then I turned away because my mother was approaching. “Is that Parker?” she asked. “Yeah. He said he was meeting his father here.” “Oh, yes, I see his father here quite often. I haven’t seen him today, though; he must not be here yet. Did you two have a chance to look at the menu?” “Not yet.” We sat down and I picked up one of the menus. “I am so happy that the two of you were able to make it today,” my mother said. “And Graham, I feel I need to apologize for the way things were when you were at our house. And also apologize for the way my husband has been dealing with this. He’s a good man; this is just hard for him, is all.” “It’s all right,” Graham said. “I just hope the both of you know that I’m not trying to cause any conflict or anything.” “We know. At least, I know that; I’m hoping John will come around, too. It’s just—”

My mother was cut off by a sudden commotion near the bar; someone let out a shout. I turned in my chair and looked and saw the realtor guy that I had talked to that night of my parents’ party, hunched on the ground. Parker had collapsed, I realized, and his father was leaning over him, shaking his shoulder. “Oh, shit, something happened to Parker,” I said, grabbing Graham by the arm. “I knew he didn’t look good when we saw him earlier …” “Call an ambulance!” Parker’s father shouted. “I don’t have my phone on me; someone needs to call an ambulance for my son!” Several people around us fumbled for their phones. I had left my own phone in the glove box in the car. “I hope Parker’s okay,” I said, glancing at Graham. But Graham didn’t say anything. He just stood there, with the strangest expression on his face.

Chapter Thirty-Nine Graham “Did someone call an ambulance? My son has just collapsed!” That was Craig Oliver shouting that, as he leaned over Parker. “An ambulance is on its way!” someone shouted. Parker had already come to, and was trying to sit up, clearly disoriented. “Stay down,” Craig said. Craig. Of Ocean View Realty. My father, who was kneeling next to Parker, calling him his son. Which would mean Parker was my brother. Well, half-brother. Either way, it meant Parker and I were related. Everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and was watching. I just stood there while the flurry of activity happened around me. The ambulance arrived less than five minutes after the call had been placed. Parker was able to get onto the stretcher himself, but he looked awful, and I thought it was probably a good idea they were taking him to the hospital. As the EMTs wheeled Parker out, everyone went back to their meals. Craig followed the stretcher, but as he walked by me, our eyes met. I wasn’t sure why he looked at me right then, but then he was walking past and he disappeared from sight. “Are you all right?” Chloe asked.

I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to actually speak yet. “Oh, dear,” her mother was saying. “Poor Parker! I hope he’s going to be all right.” I swallowed several times, then coughed. I looked at Chloe. “I’m going to go over to the hospital,” I said. “I should make sure he’s all right.” “Okay. I’ll come with you.” “I think it might be better if I just went by myself. I just … I’ll talk to you about it when I get back, okay?” She gave me a worried look. “Sure, that’s fine, but are you sure everything is okay?” “It is,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if it was. My brain still couldn’t quite seem to process anything. ***** When I got to the hospital, I wasn’t sure if I’d even be allowed past the front desk, but no one blinked an eye and I just sort of fell in step with the people in front of me. Nurses wheeled patients past in wheelchairs, a family carried a big bouquet of flowers and a bunch of brightly-colored balloons emblazoned with CONGRATULATIONS. The place was huge, so I knew there was a good chance that I wouldn’t ever run into Craig, but I had to at least try. I came to the end of the hallway that I was walking down and turned into another hallway. This one was wider, and there was a row of chairs lining one of the walls. Craig had just sat down in one of them. I walked over. He turned and looked at me as I approached. If he was at all surprised to see me, he didn’t show it. “Hi,” I said. “I was at the yacht club and—” He patted the chair next to him. “Have a seat.”

I sat. “Is Parker okay?” “The doctors are running some tests right now. I saw him for a little bit, and he’s awake. Confused about where he is and what’s going on, but I suppose that’s to be expected. His mother’s on her way back from Boston; with the traffic, though, I don’t expect her to get back here for at least two hours. I’m hoping I’ll have good news to tell her when she gets here.” “I hope so, too.” There was a pause that stretched from a few seconds to a few minutes. I kept waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t, so I started to talk again. “You might be wondering why I’m here. I’ve been thinking about talking to you for some time now, and I just never have. I thought it might be better if I didn’t ….” My voice trailed off because I wasn’t really making much sense. “You’re my father,” I finally said, expecting him to look shocked or to deny it. But to my surprise, he only nodded. “I am.” “You knew about me?” “I did.” “I mean, beyond just my mother having a child? You knew it was me?” He nodded again. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The whole ride over I’d been thinking of what I’d say, how I’d say it when he tried to deny that he was my father. I had a lot of good lines at the ready. But it had never occurred to me that he wouldn’t try to deny it, that he would act like he had known all along. “I don’t know how much your mother told you,” he said. “It was a long time ago. That’s no excuse, I realize, but I was a lot younger then and not as responsible as I am now. At least I’d like to think so.” He coughed, a pained expression on his face. “We all do things in life that we wished we had handled differently. Some more than others. But I

kept up with you over the years. From a distance, of course. I wanted to make sure that you were all right. I wasn’t actually in the country when you were born; I was over in Europe for a few years. Things never would have worked out between your mother and me. It would’ve been a disaster. We hardly even knew each other.” I seemed to be feeling too many things all at once to process any one emotion. I felt like a blank slate. It was like being caught in the middle of a hurricane; you’re in the eye where everything is eerily calm, yet all around you was tumult. “I don’t think you guys should be together or anything,” I said. “I never thought that.” “I met my wife over in Europe. She moved back here with me. Parker was born a year later. It’s funny; I figured the two of you would always travel in different social circles, but then one day he was showing me pictures from a race, and there you were. The Rogue, I think he called you. He said you pissed a lot of the other guys off because you weren’t affiliated with any clubs and didn’t have any sponsorships, but you still managed to beat a lot of them. But he’s not a bad guy. That’s how Parker finished it. He said you guys sometimes gave each other a hard time, but it was all in good fun.” “Yeah,” I said. It seemed strange now, to think back on all those times with Parker, and the feeling that I sometimes got that I knew him, beyond just the interactions we had at races. I’d always dismissed the feeling, though, because it had never made sense. It did now. “So, you really knew I was your son? You knew it was me?” “I did. And don’t think that it didn’t cross my mind to get in contact with you. It did, probably more than you might realize. But I didn’t, and that’s just something that I have to live with. I tried to help you out how I could, though.”

“You did?” “I’m good friends with Richard Hanson, the president at the bank you got your loan at. You were, what—19, 20—when you applied for your business loan to open your shop?” I nodded slowly. It seemed like such a long time ago, and at the time, it had seemed like such a long shot, that I would ever get a loan to open my own shop. I had no credit, no real business experience, and no collateral. But I was young and probably a little full of myself and knew that I just had to take the chance because tattooing was what I was good at and I didn’t want to have to work for someone else. When they told me I’d been approved for the loan, I hadn’t questioned it at all; I’d just assumed that it had happened because it was what I was supposed to be doing. “That was you?” I asked. “Yeah. I vouched for you.” “But you didn’t even know me.” Craig shrugged. “You’re right, I didn’t, but I felt like it was the least I could do.” I paused, thinking back to that most recent loan statement I’d received. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you also paid off the remaining balance of the loan? Because I recently got a statement informing me that it’s at zero. I haven’t really been paying much attention to it, other than making sure the payment is on time every month, which gets deducted automatically, so I guess it’d be more accurate to say I haven’t given it much attention at all.” “Yes, I paid it off. There wasn’t that much of a balance left on there.” “There was enough.” “You’re right, but again, it’s something I wanted to do. You’d never made a single late payment, and even without ever having stepped foot in your shop, I could tell that you were doing well. I was happy to be able to do it for you, Graham.”

“Well … thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say. The past few hours had been almost a blur, yet also stunningly clear at the same time. I was sitting here next to my father. The father I had grown up my whole life not knowing, yet he’d been there anyway, watching out for me in his own way.

Chapter Forty Chloe After Graham left for the hospital, my mother and I ordered some food, but neither of us was very hungry. The mood had turned rather somber, so I asked her if she would give me a ride back to his place. “Were he and Parker close?” she asked. “They knew each other, but I didn’t think they were really that close.” I kept my gaze on the trees as they rushed past the passenger side window. I wanted to call Graham, or text him, but I knew that right now, he needed his space. For whatever it was that he had to do. “I hope everything is going to be all right.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry all this is happening.” “It’s not your fault.” “Well, that isn’t, but, you know what I mean. Here I am driving you to his house, because you’re no longer staying with us.” “There are a lot of kids my age who live on their own,” I said. “I know, but that wasn’t the plan for this summer. I certainly wasn’t expecting that to happen. And I know our lunch date got cut short, but I can tell that Graham is actually a very nice young man and that you two are quite fond of each other. Is he who I’d pick for you? Maybe not, but you’re right; that shouldn’t matter. I’m not the one who’s dating him.”

Her voice shook a little as she spoke and I could see her eyes were welling up with tears. I squeezed her hand. “Oh, Mom. You don’t have to cry. Maybe it needed to happen this way. I’m sure I’ll come back to the house again. Dad will change his mind.” But even as I spoke those words, I could hear the note of uncertainty in my voice. There was a good chance that my father wouldn’t change his mind, even if it was about something like this. He definitely lived by the idea that once you said you were going to do something, you didn’t go back on your word. Would he really forbid me from ever going back to the house again if I didn’t break up with Graham? I could hope that wouldn’t be the case, but if it was, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised. My mother seemed a little better when she pulled up in front of Graham’s. The tears were gone and she gave me a smile. “Here we are.” She looked at the front of the cottage. “This place is actually very cute.” “It’s not bad.” “So, you’re okay? You’ll call me if you need anything?” “I will.” I leaned over and we hugged and she kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll try to talk more with your father,” she said. “This silliness just needs to stop. Let me know if you hear anything about Parker.” I got out of the car and waved as she drove off, then went inside and changed out of the dress, into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I thought about calling Tara, but decided to go work on my sculpture. I needed to be doing something, more than just talking or pacing around, waiting for Graham to get back. I could feel the thoughts in my head pinballing all over the place, and I knew the only way to get them in check was to focus on something that required all of my attention. I did text Graham though, just to let him know that’s where I’d be in case he got back

before I did. Hope everything is okay, I typed. Went down to the art center but will be back later on. I paused, thumbs hovering over the screen. Love you, I typed, and then hit send before I could delete it. ***** I stayed at the art center until it closed, at 9. I had made good progress and the sculpture would be ready for the first firing tomorrow. Graham hadn’t responded to my text, and when I got back to his place, he wasn’t there yet. I tried to keep myself occupied; I didn’t want to text him again even though now, with nothing to really focus on, my thoughts were ramping up again, wondering what was happening, why he was taking so long, if everything was okay. I washed the dishes, wiped down the counters, took a shower, brushed my hair. I tried to watch TV, but there was nothing on, and since it was getting late, I decided to just go to bed. I thought it’d be difficult to fall asleep, but the next thing I knew, I heard the door open. I looked over at the clock, not feeling as though I’d been woken up, but saw that several hours had passed. “Graham?” I said. I switched the bedside lamp on right as he came into the room. He looked exhausted, but he smiled when he saw me. “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” “I was up,” I said. “At least I think I was.” “I wasn’t expecting to be gone that long.” He came over and stretched out on the bed. “Ah, this feels good.” He let his eyes fall closed. “I’m sorry to just run off like that.” “It’s okay; you don’t have to apologize.” “I got your message, though. I was going to text you back, but then I just decided I’d

rather wait and tell you in person.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I love you, too.” Warmth spread across my chest hearing those words. I grinned and then leaned down and slowly kissed him. One of his hands went to the back of my head and held me close, the other to the small of my back. It would’ve been more than easy to just wrap myself around him and try to forget about everything that had happened earlier, but I could tell that he wanted to talk about it. So I pulled back from the kiss and nestled myself next to him. “So, how did it go?” I asked. “First, I think you need to know the reason I went down there to begin with. Craig is my father.” “He is?” “I’ve known for a while, but I never actually talked to him. I had just always assumed he didn’t want anything to do with me or my mother. And also, there was a part of me that didn’t know what to say. What are you supposed to say to someone in a situation like that? ‘Oh hey, you’re my dad? Why didn’t you ever want to be a part of my life?’ I guess there was a part of me that was afraid he’d deny it or tell me to fuck off or something. And the older I got, the less important it seemed. But after what happened at the yacht club, I realized I had to go down there. I needed to talk to him. Except he knew who I was. He knew I was his son.” “Wait a sec,” I said. “So, you’re Parker’s brother? He’s your half-brother?” “Yeah. Can you believe that? All this time we’ve been racing against each other and giving each other a hard time, and we’re actually family.” “Wow.”

“I know. And so I ended up talking with Craig for a while when they were running tests on Parker. The conversation went nothing like I’d ever imagined it would, but it was good. It was good just to talk with him.” “And how’s Parker?” “He was diagnosed with glomerulonephritis.” I waited for him to elaborate. I had no idea what that was, but it didn’t sound good. “It’s a kidney disease, basically. And apparently he’s had it for quite some time now but didn’t say anything or go to the doctor’s.” “Shit,” I said. “But he’s going to be okay, right? Now that they’ve caught it.” “Well … he’s going to need a kidney transplant.” I nodded. I knew what that meant. Well, sort of: one of the girls I went to college with had a twin sister who needed a kidney transplant. She’d been on the waiting list for two years and had to do dialysis multiple times a day. It was certainly not an easy way to live. “Shit,” I said. I reached over and took his hand. I could only imagine how badly his mind was reeling over everything that he’d found out recently. “The waiting list could take years, though.” He paused. “I’m going to go in tomorrow for an evaluation to see if I’d be a good candidate for a living donation.” “Really?” I looked up at him as he nodded. “Yeah. No one asked me to, but I want to. Craig’s blood type isn’t compatible with Parker’s, they already know that. His mother will get tested, and so will his sister. But the two brothers are under 18, so they’re not eligible yet.” “That’s a really big deal,” I said. “That you’d even consider doing that for someone.” “I guess. But if I can help him out, I should. And I know my blood type: O positive.” “That’s the universal blood type, right?”

“Yeah.” “You know, I’m not even sure what mine is.” “You’re not alone, there. A lot of people don’t know.” “So, if you’re the universal blood type, then you already know you’re a match?” “In that regard, yeah. But there’s other compatibility tests they have to do, and they make sure you’re in good physical shape and psychologically okay with it, too. But I think I am. We’ll have to wait and see.” He yawned. “Right now though, I am wiped out. And the only thing I could really think about was coming home and being able to get into bed with you.”

Chapter Forty-One Graham Just a few days after I found out that Parker was my brother, I got the news that everything checked out: I could donate a kidney to Parker if I wanted, and chances were good that his body would not reject it. I went over to see him at his father’s house. It was the first time I’d ever been there, and the first time I’d seen Parker since the day he was taken to the hospital. Craig’s house wasn’t that far from Chloe’s parents’ place, actually, and it was also similar in size, with its immaculate, green lawn and long, winding, seashell driveway. Parker was in the living room, sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone when I walked in. He tossed the phone down and stood up when he saw me. “Hey,” he said, a bit of a sheepish smile crossing his face. “Don’t get up,” I said. He waved me off. “I’m feeling better. A little bit. Taking it easy.” “That’s good.” We both sat down on the couch. He did look like he was feeling a little better. “I still can’t believe this,” he said, shaking his head. “All these years we’ve been giving each other shit at the races and all along you were my brother. That’s fucking crazy.” “Yeah. It was unexpected.” “I’m glad we know, though!”

“I might actually have to feel a little bad next time I beat you in a race.” Parker laughed, but only for a second. “I don’t know,” he said. “My days of racing might be numbered. Racing mountain bikes and dialysis aren’t two things that really go hand in hand.” “I don’t think you’ll have to spend much time doing dialysis,” I said. He gave me a confused look. “What do you mean?” “You can have one of my kidneys. We’re a match. I had the testing done and it looks like we’re compatible.” He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything right away. “And this is something I offered to do; your dad didn’t ask or anything.” “Holy shit. I … I don’t even know what to say.” He shook his head slowly. “That’s completely not what I was expecting to hear from you. I don’t even know if I should accept it. I mean … shit. You don’t even know me.” “Of course you should accept it,” I said. “This way, you won’t have any excuse next time we race against each other and I beat you.” He grinned. “Yeah, I don’t see that happening ever again. You just got lucky that time, seeing as, you know, one of my vital organs wasn’t functioning properly.” I returned his grin. “We’ll just have to see about that.” ***** I hung out with Parker a while longer. After I left, I went for a little drive, which took me past Lorraine’s. It was Monday, right around lunchtime. I pulled into the parking lot and saw my mother’s car. I figured I’d go in, say hello, see how she was doing. She was walking out though, as I was getting out of the truck. I held up a hand and waved.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. “Well, you’re about the last person I expected to see here. I just finished eating! I would’ve waited if I knew that you were going to be around.” “I was just driving by and thought I’d stop. I know you’re always here for lunch on Mondays.” “That’s nice of you. Let’s sit over here for a minute.” She gestured to one of the wooden benches under the blue and white awning. “So,” she said. “Anything new with you?” “You know, the usual. Working, hanging out with Chloe … oh, and I met my father.” She blinked. “You what?” “I actually met my father. Interacted with him.” “So, your father has acknowledged you.” My mother didn’t look particularly pleased about this, though I couldn’t say I was expecting her to. “He has,” I said. “He’s actually not a bad guy. Would you like to know why it was we had this interaction?” “I suppose.” She was trying to look uninterested, but I could tell that she was dying to know. “He has a son. Two sons, actually, and a daughter. So my half-brothers and sister.” “I think I knew that.” “Well, one of those sons, Parker, is actually someone I’ve known for a while now, because we race bikes against each other. Funny, isn’t it? I’ve been competing against this guy for years now and I had no idea that we were actually related.” “Your life is sounding more and more like a soap opera.” “Anyway. Parker needs a kidney transplant.”

My mother widened her eyes. “Your father didn’t ask you to donate one of your organs, did he?” “No; I offered. I happen to be a match, too, so I’m going to do it.” “Really.” “Yeah. Otherwise he could be on the waiting list for years.” “No one else in his family was a match? I find that hard to believe.” “His sister was a match, but it’s more than just finding someone with the same blood type. There was another test they did and his blood cells attacked hers. It’s called crossmatching, and even if you have the same blood type and the cross-match is positive, you can’t be a donor. For that person, anyway. It just won’t work.” “I see.” My mother nodded slowly. “The timing seems a little convenient, wouldn’t you say?” “What do you mean?” “Well, your father spends your entire life not talking to you, but now that his son needs a kidney transplant, he’s suddenly appeared in your life.” “It’s just the way it happened. I wouldn’t have known about any of this if I hadn’t happened to be with Chloe and her mother at the yacht club that day. I guess there’s a possibility that maybe Parker and I would’ve gotten talking at some point and he would’ve mentioned who his father was, but … no. Dad had no idea that I’d be a match. And he didn’t ask me; I offered.” “Then you’re a far better person than I am, I guess. I don’t know if I could do that for someone who had decided to ignore me for my entire life.” “It’s not for him, though. It’s for Parker. He’s my brother.” “Half-brother.”

“Whatever. He’s someone that I’ve known now for a while, even though I didn’t know we were actually related. That’s kind of crazy! It’s a trip.” “Life is crazy, isn’t it,” she said. She shrugged. “If you’ve made this decision on your own and your father isn’t trying to pressure you into it, then I’d have to say it’s a pretty admirable thing you’re doing.” She patted my knee. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, because I always knew you were that kind of person.” I waited for her to say that I had gotten that characteristic from her, but she didn’t. “I’m proud of you,” is what she said. “Thanks, Mom. Also, I wanted to tell you that Chloe’s art opening is tomorrow.” “Is it?” “Yes. It’s at Harborside Art Gallery. It starts at 6 o’clock.” “Is this an invitation?” “I think it’d be nice if you went and showed your support. I know she’d be happy to see you.” “Well, I’m actually working.” “Okay. I wasn’t sure if you would be or not, but I wanted to let you know that it was happening.” My mother smiled. “I appreciate it. You know, I think I might try and see if I can get the night off.” ***** That night, Chloe was a bunch of nerves. I left work early because she called and I could hear that she was kind of freaking out. I stopped and got a pizza on the way home, but she was only able to pick at it, despite saying how hungry she was. “I just keep thinking that I’m not really seeing the sculpture, since it’s my own. I

mean, I’m seeing it one way, but really, it’s not as good as I think it is.” “You’ve just got to take a deep breath,” I said. I slid her plate of pizza closer to her. “And maybe eat something. You said you were really hungry.” “I know, I thought I was. But now I’m not. I really just want tomorrow to be over with.” “It’s fine to feel nervous, Chloe, but I bet it’s going to go a lot better than you think. You’re kind of psyching yourself out over it.” She ripped the crust off the pizza and nibbled at it. “And you want to know something else? Claudia asked me if I wanted to keep the sculpture, or if I wanted to sell it,” she said. “I hadn’t even considered that.” “Yeah? What’d you decide?” “Well … she said unless it was something I had 100 percent decided on keeping, then I should at least put a price tag on it. I told her I had absolutely no idea what to charge for something like that. So she told me that she could give me a starting price, if I wanted. And she did.” Chloe’s eyes widened. “It was way more than I could ever consider charging for a piece!” “But I thought you said it came out great. I thought you were really happy with it.” “I am. I still couldn’t imagine charging that much, though. I would feel … I don’t know. I would feel weird, I guess. Like a fraud or something.” “You’re not a fraud, though. And if someone wants to buy your sculpture, for whatever price you set it at, they should be able to.” “That’s what Claudia was saying.” “She’s right. I, for one, cannot wait to see how it turned out.” “I do appreciate your vote of confidence, even if you’re probably obligated to tell me

that it’s good, even though it’s not. Can we talk about something else? How’d it go with Parker?” “Good. We hung out for a while and that was cool, and we’ll be setting up the appointment for the surgery soon. But I wanted to wait until after your opening. The recovery period for me shouldn’t be that long.” “It’s such a great thing you’re doing for him. You’re a good egg, you know that?”

Chapter Forty-Two Chloe The night of the art opening, I wore the blue dress again. Tara came over and brought a cream-colored headband she thought I should wear, and she also did my makeup, using her own because I really didn’t have anything aside from some tinted lip gloss. “Keep your eyes closed,” she said. I let my eyes fall shut and felt her brush something across each of my eyelids. “You know, for an artist, I’d think you’d be better at doing your own makeup. So, is Todd still planning on going to this thing?” “Last I heard he was.” “What’s he like?” “He’s the guy that was there the first night we went into the shop,” I said, opening my eyes. “Remember?” She frowned. “Sort of? No, I can’t really picture his face.” “He’s handsome. Short, dark blond hair, blue eyes. A little shorter than Graham, more of a slender build. Graham said he was looking forward to meeting you.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “I feel like I’m going to puke.” “Don’t do that,” Tara said. “You look too stunning to spend even a second leaning over a toilet bowl. You’re going to be fine. I’m so excited to see how your sculpture turned out! And you look absolutely beautiful. You really do. And your boyfriend is going to be right there with you, and we’re all going to have a good time, I promise. You don’t have to be nervous!”

I took several more deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. I knew I should be excited about tonight, but I felt so nervous that at this moment, the only thing I wanted was for it to be over. ***** I’d had work featured in shows before, but it had always been through the school. Not that a school show didn’t count, but in a way, it didn’t entirely. And this opening, it really felt like an event. Like it was something that people had been invited to, that they’d marked on their calendars, that they went out and bought a new outfit for. There were waiters going around with trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne, there was a DJ set up in the far corner, spinning a jazz/electronica hybrid, and the place was full of welldressed, good-looking people, some of whom I recognized, but most I did not. I also felt nervous about my parents, and whether or not they’d be here. Rather, I knew my mother would go, but I didn’t know if my father would or not. Even if he did, what would he say? I was almost beginning to think it might be better if he just skipped it, because I didn’t know what he would think about the sculpture. It had come out better than I’d been expecting it to, but I knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything in regards to how my father would see it. The sculpture was set up right in the middle of the main room, on a display cube pedestal underneath a spotlight. I had stayed with the nautical theme, it being Cape Cod and all, but instead of a mermaid, I sculpted two separate things: a giant squid and a sperm whale, traditionally great enemies, but in my piece, I made it look as if the two were embracing, with the sperm whale gently twisting around the giant squid’s body, and the squid’s arms caressing the whale’s sides. The two, long tentacles I had formed into a heart. “Wow,” Graham said. He walked right over to it and stood there for several minutes, just looking. “Chloe. This is incredible.” He saw the price sticker on the cube. “And no,”

he said, lowering his voice, “don’t think for a second that this isn’t worth what you’re asking. Twice that much, if you want my opinion.” “Thank you for saying that,” I said. I tried to see the sculpture with an impartial eye, but it was near impossible. “Is this yours?” a voice asked from behind me. I turned and saw Janice approaching, an impressed look on her face. I nodded. “This is it.” “I love it!” she exclaimed. “Now this is the kind of art that I’m talking about! It’s not some weird paint spatters on a canvas—this is real art. Chloe, I am so impressed!” She gave me a hug, and then gave one to Graham. “You’ve got a real artist here!” “I know,” he said with a smile. We spent some time walking around, looking at the other pieces, mingling with the crowd. We made our way over to the buffet table and I got a plate and put some grapes and cheese on it. “I still don’t see my mom or dad,” I whispered. “I’m sure they’ll be here,” Graham said. “It’s still early.” He sounded confident, but I saw a flash of uncertainty go across his face. Time did pass quickly, though. People kept coming up and congratulating me on the sculpture, or wanting to know what my inspiration was. Who were my influences? Also, what was I working on next? Did I work in other mediums? Did I do commissions? Where was my next show going to be? Graham took a step back and let me answer the questions, though I could see him out of the corner of my eye with a grin on his face. And then—there were my parents. Both of them, walking through the door. My mother reached me first. “Oh, it’s amazing, Chloe,” she said as she hugged me.

“I’m so proud of you. It’s absolutely wonderful.” She let go and stepped back, looking first at my father then at me. “Hi, Dad,” I said, not quite able to read the expression on his face. He wasn’t smiling, but rather looking with concentration at the sculpture, as though he were really trying to figure it out. “That’s quite something,” he finally said. “It’s impressive that someone could render something so lifelike out of clay.” And then he looked at me. “Hi, Chloe.” He came over and hugged me, and I hugged him back. “Thanks so much for being here,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if you guys were going to show up or not.” “You did a good job,” he said. “I can tell that you really put some time and effort into this.” He looked over my shoulder at Graham. “Hi there, Graham,” he said. They shook hands. “It’s really something, isn’t it?” Graham said. The four of us stood there, looking at the sculpture. “I like the symbolism,” my mother said. “I like that you’ve got two creatures that are generally considered enemies, yet here they are, in love.” “Well, I don’t know if they’re in love,” my father said. He cleared his throat. “Regardless, it’s impressive work.” I could tell by his tone that he wasn’t just saying it, that he actually was impressed with what I had done. And that made me feel better than any of the other compliments I’d received so far. “That really means a lot to me, Dad.” There was an ache in my throat and I tried to swallow it away, not wanting to cry. My mom spied Claudia near the back of the gallery and wanted to go talk to her, so

Graham and I stayed behind as my parents walked off. “They came,” I said. That feeling in my chest had started to unknot, and I realized how nervous I’d been that they wouldn’t come. I exhaled. “And I think my dad actually liked it.” “I’d say he did. And look,” Graham said, nodding. I looked, unsure of what he was gesturing at. I didn’t see anything at first, or nothing out of the ordinary; just my sculpture there, a few people looking at it. “What?” I asked. “On the display cube.” I looked again, squinting a little. And there, covering the price tag, was a sticker emblazoned with the word SOLD. ***** We’d both gotten a little tipsy on the free champagne, but by the time we made it home late that night, the buzz had worn off and we were both mellow and happy. We undressed and climbed into bed. The art opening had gone successfully. In fact, it had been better than I even imagined. “You’d think we were like Romeo and Juliet or something,” I said, “the way our parents were acting.” I felt a heaviness in my chest, though. Summer was going to be over soon; I’d be going back to school, which meant I’d be leaving the Cape. I knew people did long distance relationships sometimes, but I had gotten so used to seeing Graham every day. I didn’t want that to suddenly stop. “I’m going to miss you,” I said. “I really wish I didn’t have to go back to school.” He stroked the side of my face. “Don’t say that. You’ve worked really hard to get where you are.”

“Well, then, I wish that you could come with me.” He smiled. “Now that, that might be a bit more feasible.” “Wait—what? You’d come with me? How would you do that?” “I could open a shop in the city. On Point, the city version.” “But what about the one here? You’d sell it?” “Nah. Helena could run it, and it’s close enough I could come down a few times a month, even. Plus, it’s a lot slower here in the winter than it would be in the city.” He shrugged. “It was something I’d kind of been thinking about for a little while now. Expanding. I have been on the Cape here for most of my life, you know. I wouldn’t mind venturing to other parts of the world. Well, other parts of the state, as it would be in this case.” “Wow.” That was the last thing I’d been expecting him to say. Sure, the thought might have crossed my mind, but not as something I ever imagined would happen. But now that he’d said it, I started thinking how great that would be. And also crazy. “I would be so happy if that happened,” I said. “But is that crazy? I mean, will people think we’re insane for doing something like this? We haven’t been together that long.” “I don’t care,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me what other people think.” “But what if it doesn’t work out? Then you’ll have uprooted your whole life and opened a new business and—” “Are you breaking up with me?” “No! No, of course I’m not!” “Do you not want it to work out?” “There is actually nothing I want more than for it to work out.” “Then don’t stress about it. Look, I know there’s some people out there that would say

it’s a really shitty idea to move in together so soon. And you know what? Maybe it is. But we won’t know it till we try it. I’m willing to take that chance. And besides, we’ve already been living together for a little while this summer, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve really enjoyed it.” I smiled. “I have, too. There was a part of me that was really dreading having to go back to school because I wouldn’t be able to see you as much.” “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily,” he said. He pulled me close and kissed my cheek. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” I said. “You know, I’m glad I decided to take a chance on you.”

Epilogue Graham “Are you nervous?” I took my eyes off the road for a second to glance at Chloe over in the passenger seat. She was sitting with her back very straight, nibbling at her fingernails. She was wearing a red turtleneck sweater dress and she looked hot as hell. I looked back to the road. “Nah,” I said, “I think it’ll be fine. They’ll want to know how the new shop is doing and they’ll want to know how school is going. And both of those are going great, so I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. Oh, and the fact that we’re still happily living together also works in our favor.” I reached over and patted her knee. “Everyone will have a good time today.” “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll try to think that way, too. I don’t know why I feel so nervous. I guess I just want them to see that everything really is working out.” “Well, it is, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to see that.” We were driving back to the Cape for Thanksgiving, which Chloe’s parents were hosting at their summer house. “I think this is the first time my parents have even been to the Cape when it wasn’t summer,” she said. “It sure is different, isn’t it?” And it was. Gone were the lush greens and the warm sun and the throngs of people in their

swimsuits. Many of the businesses had shut down for the off-season, and there was a distinct chill in the air. It probably wouldn’t start snowing for another month, but weather in New England was notoriously fickle and late November snow was certainly not unheard of in these parts. “I talked to Tara,” Chloe said. “Oh yeah? Are she and Todd still getting along?” “It sounds like it.” “Where is it they’re at again?” “Barbados.” “Ah, okay. Never been.” “It’s nice. One of Tara’s favorite places. I’m glad they’re having fun. Though if they were around, they could be here today, too!” I chuckled. “That would certainly make things a little more interesting. Though I think they’re actually interesting enough as is.” And they were. It wasn’t just going to be Chloe’s parents at this Thanksgiving; my own mother was going, as well as my father and his family. My family. It was still so strange to think that I had this whole family that I didn’t even really know. “It’ll be good to see Parker,” Chloe said. “It will.” I’d gone through with the organ donation, and the procedure itself had been relatively simple. I was under general anesthetic, so of course didn’t remember anything about the actual surgery. I’d been sore after, but the pain certainly wasn’t that bad. I was back to doing everything I normally did after about two weeks. Recovery for Parker took longer, but that was to be expected. He and I had traded texts a few times, and Craig had kept me updated with his progress—Parker would have to be monitored by doctors and

take medication for the rest of his life, but so far, so good; his body was not rejecting the kidney. ***** She was quiet for the rest of the drive, even when I tried to make conversation. I stopped talking and just drove. Thanksgiving had never been a big holiday for me, so it did feel strange now to be heading to what would probably turn out to be a pretty big celebration. The past Thanksgivings of my adult life had always been with friends, not family, because the Thanksgivings of my childhood had been complete disasters. But now Chloe and I were heading to a house full of family. And it felt good to be in contact with my father, even though our relationship was more like friends than father-son. That was okay, though. There was no way we could ever go back in time and have the sort of dynamic that we might have had if he’d been there my entire life. ***** “It looks like everyone’s here already,” she said. “I didn’t realize we were that late.” “I don’t think we are; maybe everyone else was just early.” I parked the car and turned the key in the ignition. “Hold on a second,” Chloe said, when she saw me reaching for the door handle. “I just … I just want to sit here for a second.” She relaxed back into the seat and took a few deep breaths. “Tell me everything’s going to be all right.” I smiled. “It’s going to be okay. If I can go in there knowing my mother, and my father that I just reconnected with are in there, you will be more than fine.” She nodded as I spoke. I reached over and took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “We’re in this together, remember? We’ll go in there and have a nice time. It’ll be good to see everyone.”

“I know.” She took another deep breath and then smiled that sweet grin of hers. “Okay, I’m ready.” “I love you, you know.” “I love you, too,” she said. We got out of the car and walked toward the house where our families were waiting.

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COSTARS By Claire Adams This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams

Chapter One The Loose Bet Emma This is it. Today’s the day. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life and now that it’s here, I wish I were somewhere else. I wish I were someone else. It’s not that I lack gratitude or an understanding of just what a big deal this moment is for me personally as well as professionally. I’m nothing but gratitude right now. No, what’s bothering me is that I can’t remember any of my lines and I’m going to be working with quite possibly the greatest actor of my generation: Damian Jones. The problem with reaching the top is that there are other people, people who have been there for a while. I’ve been rather clever so far, working in near anonymity and only ever being recognized as that chick from that tampon commercial. It’s not the best kind of notoriety I could have hoped for, but it paid the rent. Now, though, all eyes are going to be on me, and I know exactly what everyone’s thinking. They’re all just sitting back, waiting and hoping that they’ll have a front row seat when I inevitably prove just how unqualified I am to be here. Or maybe that’s just my own personal insecurity. Regardless, I think it’s time that I start betting against myself here. My cheeks have been red for the last ten minutes, and I’ve been having a hell of a time breathing at what anyone might consider a natural pace. “Emma,” Lane, my on-set assistant, says, poking his head through the door of my

trailer, “they’re ready for you.” I take a breath. Here we go. Ten minutes later and I’m back in my trailer, waiting for them to get the lighting set up for the next scene. I’ve been in movies before, just nothing you would have seen. There were a few lowbudget, sci-fi flicks where I was either the lusty heroine, or more likely, damsel in distress who is rescued by the superpower-wielding hero, or I was the space vixen who’s basically just walking cleavage that completely fails as a character. My biggest moment before landing this film was in Mega Leopard vs. Megalodon IV: Rise of the Phoenixes, where I had a 30-second monologue in which I’m trying to reassure the rest of the captives—all buxom women like myself, each character with a different reason why the front of her shirt is torn open, exposing everything but areola—they’re going to survive the machinations of the Cult of Megalodon culminating in the glorious words, “We are not fodder for monsters; no! We are women and women fight!” Sure, it’s a nice thought from a feminist standpoint, but the writing left a lot to be desired. Now, though, I’m on the set of a motion picture that doesn’t only have one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, but it actually has financial backing and a decent script. It should be a lot harder to be cynical, but I’m starting to find myself longing for the days where the director didn’t care if the lighting was right or whether the sun was two hours higher in the sky in one shot than it is in the next. At least then, I could put in a day’s work and be done. Now, all I have is time to sit here and freak out because of where ‘here’ is.

Lane opens the door to my trailer to ask me if I need anything. I ask him what he means by anything. “I don’t know,” he says. “Are you hungry, thirsty? Is there anything I could bring you that would help to pass the time? I could read lines with you, whatever you need.” “If I were to ask you to do something to help me pass the time, you’d probably do it?” I ask. “Sure,” he answers. “So if I were to tell you that I wanted an eight ball of coke, two hookers of questionable character and gender, a fifth of Jack, along with a quarter of whatever they were giving Snoop Dogg back in the early 2000s, and, just to round it out, at least a dozen people old enough to die in a war but not old enough to drink legally with whom I can enjoy all of the above with me, you’d do it?” I ask. “Obviously,” he says, “I couldn’t knowingly participate in an illegal action. That said, I haven’t really checked the laws that recently, so I may miss a few things.” “Excellent,” I tell him. “So, did you actually want any of that or were you just looking to prove a point?” he asks. “My hooker guy likes to have as much notice as possible—otherwise he has a lot more trouble finding just the right one.” “You’re not joking, are you?” I ask. “I guess we’ll never know,” he says. “Is there anything I can get you?” “No, I’m good,” I tell him. “All right,” he says. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” He leaves the trailer and I take a moment to really appreciate the fact that I have, at

my beck and call, someone who has a “hooker guy.” That’s power. There’s a knock on my trailer door and I call for whoever’s there to come in. “Hey, I just wanted to see how you were settling in,” a very familiar voice says. I look up, and there, ducking his head as he enters my trailer, is Damian Jones. “Shit,” I say and try to stand up, managing to bend everything except my knees in the process. If it looks half as awkward as it feels, I’m in serious trouble. “You don’t have to get up,” he says, a partial smile on his full lips. Damian Jones is one of those people you can just tell was born to be in the movies. He’s one of those guys you just know came out of the womb with perfectly straight, white teeth and the kind of smile that would provide untold masses of women the motivation to try masturbation for the first time. It helps that his dirty blond hair always looks like it’s five minutes out of the stylist, and that he’s frequently beefing up for this or that role. He’s ducking his head a little as he makes his way over to my makeshift couch. He doesn’t find a spot and ends up sitting on my coffee table. I’m a little messy. “Just as well,” I tell him. “My legs seem to have forgotten how to work. I’m Emma Roxy.” No matter what I do at this point, his first impression of me is going to involve the word clumsy. All I have left is the remote possibility that I can add the word charmingly to the front end of the title. “I’ve seen some of your work,” he says. “You’re good. To tell you the truth, I always

thought you weren’t getting the kind of roles that you deserved.” “Thanks,” I tell him, wondering if I should have put a question mark at the end of the statement. “I’m obviously a great admirer of yours as well.” “Obviously,” he says. He’s a little smug. “So, I hear you got your first scene in and done. How’d that go?” he asks. My phone starts ringing on the coffee table next to Damian, and for whatever reason, I decide that I don’t want Damian Jones to see who’s calling me. No, it doesn’t make any sense, but I’m still pretty new to this. I snatch the phone off the table and mute it with my thumb. Damian is looking up at me, but he’s not saying anything. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “This is just a little weird for me.” “What’s that?” he asks. “You’re Damian Jones,” I tell him, “and you’re sitting on my coffee table.” “Sorry about that,” he says, getting up. “You had to have known that we’d cross paths at one point or another, though, right?” he asks. “We are the main romance plot to the film, you know.” “What’s your point?” I ask. “No point. So,” he says with a flash of his dark green eyes, “are you into tall, handsome actors?” “You know, for someone who’s always in the tabloids with a different woman on his arm, I would have thought you’d have a lot more game,” I tell him. “Game?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hitting on me,” I tell him, “and you’re not the slightest bit good at it. Maybe it’s just one of those sad things that tend to happen when fantasy meets reality.” “Do you smoke?” he asks. “Smoke what?” I return. “Let’s start with tobacco and go from there,” he says. “No,” I tell him. “I don’t smoke anything. I hate the smell.” “That’s good,” he says. “It’s terrible on the lungs and it makes you age like crazy.” “Why do you ask, then?” I question. “I was going to see if you’d be cool with me lighting up a cigarette in here,” he says. “It’s fine,” I tell him without thinking. “Just open a window.” “I think I’d better not,” he says. “You’re not a smoker, so you’re going to get sick of the smell really fast.” “Why are you here?” I ask. “I heard you were nervous,” he says. “I also heard that you were trying to throw a party for teenagers involving cocaine and prostitutes and I wanted to see if you were actually that jaded—I was coming here to make sure I got an invite if it went that way—or if you’ve just got a sense of humor.” “And?” I ask. “And,” he says, “I have found that I’ve still only just met you and couldn’t possibly pass that kind of judgment so quickly.” “I see,” I tell him. “Well, I’ve got another scene coming up in a little while, and I kind of like to—” “Oh, you’ve got your own trailer ritual, huh?” he asks. “Carl Ivan had one of those

that involved a rubber turkey leg, a pint of Southern Comfort, and a still of Stockard Channing from Grease. He never really said how it worked or even whether it worked or not. Come to think of it, I’m not sure exactly what he was hoping to accomplish, but—” “Mr. Jones,” I interrupt. “Damian,” he says. “You’re Emma and I’m Damian; pleased to meet you.” “You’re a very strange man,” I tell him. “Nah,” he scoffs, “strange is for the commoners. I’m rich, ergo, I’m not strange. I’m unconventional, dynamic.” “The commoners?” I ask. This is the most surreal moment of my life. I have no idea how to take him. He can’t really be this conceited, can he? “You know,” he says, “this is going to be my sixth Academy Award.” “What is?” I ask. “This film,” he answers, “the one we just started shooting.” “Are you actually going for the Babe Ruth thing?” I ask. “You’re trying to call your award?” “I’d almost say yes to that,” he says, “only, I object to the word ‘try.’ I’m not trying to call anything. I’m simply stating a fact. I’ve read hundreds of scripts and I’ve done dozens of movies. Trust me. They’d need to screw this up pretty monumentally for me not to get the Oscar nod. Hey, if you play your cards right, there might be a Golden Globe or something in it for you, too.” “Got it,” I tell him. “Got what?” he asks.

“I was trying to figure out whether you’re just doing some kind of shtick or if you’re actually this full of yourself. From everything I’ve seen, the latter is pretty clearly the case and I’m just trying to keep the stiff upper lip and not mourn the person I thought you were when I was growing up. That is, until you’re gone and out of my trailer,” I tell him. “Wow, dramatic,” he says. “Anyway, just wanted to pop by and offer my services.” “I don’t think I’ll be requiring them,” I tell him, “but thank you for the thought.” “Not a problem,” he says. “It’s my duty as your mentor.” “Mentor?” I ask. “When did this happen?” “The moment we both signed on to play these parts,” he says. “This is your—sorry, but this is your first real film and you’re working with real people top to bottom. I know how that can be intimidating to a new actor, and I think I might be able to help you get through the initial growing pains with a bit more ease.” “How admirable,” I tell him. “Your altruism is truly touching and not in the least bit condescending and offensive.” “I’m glad you see it for what it is,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. “Now, I should let you get to whatever kind of voodoo it is that you do as a trailer ritual. Just do me a favor and don’t tell me if you make any wax dolls of me. I mean, do what you want, but I don’t want to hear about it. That stuff skeeves me right the hell out.” “What are you even talking about?” I ask. “Never mind,” he says. “Keep your secrets. I’m off to talk to a man about something else.” “I think unconventional might be too mild a word,” I tell him. “Think whatever you like,” he says. “Mark my words, though. Before filming is wrapped, you are going to come to me for my sage advice. You’re going to say, ‘Mr. Jones

—Damian, you were right. This is a big, scary world and I was wrong to so casually dismiss your kind offers of assistance.’ I’m sure you’ll be able to convince me. I just wish we could get to the part where you appreciate me for the supernatural gem that I really am and skip all this other nonsense.” I’ve been so busy trying to ignore the oozing cesspool issuing from Damian’s mouth that I didn’t notice the door to the trailer open. “Emma, they’re ready for you,” Lane says. “Thanks, Lane,” I answer with a healthy dose of gratitude. “Make me look good,” Damian says as I get up and walk past him out of the trailer. What a self-important prick. Lane walks with me toward the set. I ask him, “Is that guy really as pompous as he comes off?” “No,” Lane answers. “He’s not really that pompous. He just likes to mess with new people he thinks may be, in some way, intimidated by his fame. He thinks that by giving them a bad impression that confirms their worst fears about him, he can start anew from zero and do a better job showing them how he’s not like that. I guess he thinks that coming off like an ass makes him approachable or something, although I can’t imagine that really working. Of course, the fact that he sees people as playthings, which he feels the need to personally inform them of is pretty damn pompous, so I guess the answer to your question is yes.” “You’re wonderful company, you know that?” I ask. “Most people would just give a quick answer and be done, but you choose the less taken road of answering just about everything but what’s been asked.” “I answered,” he says.

“Not in a helpful way,” I tell him. From here it’s wardrobe. From wardrobe, it’s makeup. From makeup, it’s to the set for my next 20-second scene. Ah, the life of a movie star is a wondrous thing, indeed. * * * Everything’s going fine. I’m nailing my lines and I’m solid on the acting. Really, I should be feeling pretty good about myself right now. That’s what I’m thinking right up until it’s time for my first scene with Damian. When he’s not in my trailer acting like he’s the secret and mystical key to an aspiring young actor’s dreams and ambitions, apparently he’s on the set, arguing with the director and basically anyone else that strays too close to ground zero. It used to be I was waiting for lighting or my makeup artist. Now I have to wait until there’s nothing even close to the set that doesn’t meet with Damian Jones’s odd and often contradictory standards. After he’s finished a particularly nonsensical tirade regarding the reflection off one of the framed pictures hanging on the wall, he takes a moment to pace and I’m just trying to stay as far away from him as I can. Unfortunately, that’s become rather difficult, as he’s now walking right toward me. I turn to leave, but am nearly run over by one of the prop guys. If this really is all an act on Damian’s part, he’s a more skilled thespian than anyone

I’ve ever known. He’s absolutely nailing the role of irritating douchebag. “Emma,” he says, and I give up hope of escape. I turn and face him, responding, “Damian.” “Things still going well?” he asks. “I know that it can be difficult being so close to one of the great cinematic gods of our time, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it. Anyway, I just had a couple of ideas for you.” “Ideas?” I ask. “What kind of ideas?” “Well,” he says, “we’ve never worked together before, and I thought maybe I could give you a couple of ideas on motions and tones you can take to get the best response out of me.” “Acting tips?” I ask. “Are you seriously trying to make your performance my responsibility?” “Well,” he says, “at the end of the day, it’s everyone’s responsibility, including mine. If there’s anything I can do to help get the best out of you,” he winks, “you just let me know.” I’m pretty certain he just propositioned me. Twelve-hours-ago-me would have ripped her top off, shoved it (the top) into her own mouth—for reasons which are unclear to me still—and leapt spread-eagle through the air at such a suggestion. Twelve-hours-ago-me was an idiot. “What did you have in mind?” I ask him. “Well, I was thinking that if you say this first line with a kind of restrained anger, something just boiling to the surface rather than going straight explosive on it, that’d

really be the way to go with the scene. We’d have somewhere to go, you know,” he says. “What did you think I was going to do?” I ask. “Did you think I was going to come into the room screaming and throwing stuff?” “A lot of people would,” he says. “But you’ve got to remember, this is Glen on the screenplay, so you’ve got to realize that there’s more to the page than the sum total of the words on it.” “And you’ve got the only correct interpretation of it?” I ask. “You sound like you’re trying to start a religion.” “How were you going to play the scene?” he asks. “I was thinking that I would come into the room, see him sitting in the chair by the dresser and start soft, but deliberate, so that I could build into the climax of the dialogue,” I tell him. It’s exactly what he was saying I should do, and I know that he knows it. “By the time you get into the room, I’ll be yelling—otherwise your character would never hear me well enough to know what’s going on—but I wasn’t just going to go in there guns blazing.” “I think that sounds like a brilliant plan,” he says. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I’m happy enough that he doesn’t know I was absolutely planning on coming into the room at the beginning of the next scene breaking a few things while I screamed at Mack, the guy playing my husband, in the first 20 minutes of the film. I had the whole scene played through in my head. That blue lamp was going to be the first to go. I was going to try and show Damian that I’m just as worthy of being here as he is by playing strong right from our first scene together. Instead, I’m going to be doing exactly what he tells me to do because there’s a reasonable chance he’d ridicule me otherwise.

“You’re pretty,” he says. “You haven’t done any porn, have you?” “Excuse me?” I ask. “You’d be surprised how many people in our business have dabbled,” he says. “Most people who start out that way don’t really make it past the occasional cameo or early morning talk show, but there is a more substantial population than you’d think who owe very successful careers to the fact that at one point in their life, they fucked for money. I’m not saying everyone does it. I’m just saying that I’ve been around it enough to have some wisdom on the subject if that’s something you’d like to talk about.” “I haven’t done any porn,” I tell him, “but thanks for asking. It wasn’t presumptuous or asinine at all.” “You’re sarcastic,” he says. “I wonder if that’s because you’re seeing the humor in the moment or if you’re hiding behind a smile, hoping that nobody sees what’s really going on inside you.” “We’re ready,” the prop guy calls out to the director, who makes a few last-minute adjustments before we’re anywhere near action. “You think you know everything about people,” I tell him, “but you don’t.” “I never said I know everything about people,” he answers. “I just know what it’s like to show up on set and feel like, at any moment, everyone’s going to realize just how far from good enough you really are and they’re going to send you back to the Midwest or wherever you came from. The ones that end up doing porn are usually from the Midwest,” he continues, “that’s why I’m asking.” “I’ve never done porn,” I tell him. He was right on the verge of saying something helpful. I’d thought he actually did say something helpful, but he just kept talking until I was cured of that opinion.

“I was right about the rest of it, though,” he says, “wasn’t I?” “No,” I tell him. “I know that you’d love to see me as some shriveling neophyte who’s so overwhelmed by the big lights that she feels helpless without your guidance, but I’m here because I earned it, you smug son of a bitch.” “Calm down. I’m not saying you didn’t earn it,” he says. “I’m just saying that I know the feeling.” “Let me guess,” I start, “this is the part where you tell me how you used to feel that way when you were first starting out, right? It might be thoughtful if it weren’t so incredibly condescending.” “You’re not quite right,” he says. “I still feel that way.” He leans toward me and whispers, “Do you really think that I would get as belligerent as I just did because I looked the wrong way and got light in my eyes? I did that because I’m terrified of everything that comes after he says action. Every second those cameras are going is a separate opportunity for me to fuck it all up and bring an end to my career, just to prove how not good enough I really am. I’m not saying you feel that way because it’s a weakness or some obstacle you’re just going to get past. I’m saying you feel that way because it would be inhuman not to.” “All right, and Emma, you’re out of the room, coming in to confront your husband about the affair,” Dutch, the director, calls out. I walk to my place off-camera and wait for my cue. This is the part of the movie where Charlotte, that’s me, comes home to find a halfnaked woman climbing down the drainpipe from the bedroom window on the second floor and confronts her husband about it. As this is a comedy, my husband is a well-known, septuagenarian standup comic, and

Damian comes into play here, as he’s my husband’s granddaughter’s English tutor who overhears the argument and quits his job in solidarity with my character leaving her husband—it’s kind of a reverse Jerry Maguire moment. This isn’t my first scene of the day, but it will be the first one with Damian. I’m not entirely sure how he did it, but with his confession, I’ve forgotten myself to the point that, if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up liking Damian Jones.

Chapter Two Managing Expectations Damian “I’m thrilled to be working with her,” I tell Kandice from KNTV-LA. “I think she’s a promising, up-and-coming actress and I think you’re going to be amazed when you see what she can do.” Honestly, I didn’t think she was that great today. Maybe it’s just nerves, but she’s stretching to make a B-list showing. Still, the PR thing to do is to be nice and appear excited about my costar. “So,” Kandice from KNTV-LA says, “you’d say that working with Emma Roxy has been an overall positive experience?” I’ve never known why people are interested in shit like this. Why does anyone care what we’re like in real life? The truth is that if you’re a person who cares that much about something so inconsequential as what someone you’ve never met thinks about another person you’ve never met, you’re probably not the kind of person I want to meet. Still, the only projects that see a boost from conflict on the set are the occasional horror flick where the studio’s really trying to bump up the film’s “You wouldn’t believe the crazy shit that happens on this set” cred. “Well, we just met,” I tell Kandice from KNTV-LA, “filming just started, you know,

but so far, yeah, I’d say it’s been a positive experience.” “You never know where these things can go,” Kandice from stupid, misguided KNTV-LA says, somehow managing to be the first to publicly speculate on the possibility of an off-screen love affair between me and Emma. That sort of thing happens a lot, people tell me, but I’ve never seen it work out without some kind of scandal at the end of it. This is a job. It felt good, getting that out. It really did. “This is a great project,” I tell Kandice from KNTV-LA, “and I’m thrilled to be working on it with some of the best people in the business. It’s always an honor to be a part of something with so much heart.” When you don’t have anything genuine and positive to say about a film you’re working on, you say that the project “has heart.” It doesn’t mean anything, but people who hear you say it still get that warm and fuzzy feeling. The script is nothing you haven’t seen in every other summer romantic comedy that’s come out in the last 30 or 40 years, but that’s another one of those things they tell you not to say in a live television interview. They’d prefer you don’t mention how this will be the fourth movie of the year that features a woman who is overworked and hating her life, who then finds a man and, through his charm and carefree lifestyle, he teaches her a new way of living: one that includes making time for herself and his penis. It’s touching, really. “If you were to hook up with your new costar, would she be the first leggy redhead you’ve had in your life?” Kandice from KNTV-LA asks, and even in the somewhat pixelated view of her expression that I can make out, I can see that she feels just as stupid

asking that question as I do having to answer it. “I think women are beautiful, no matter their hair color,” I deflect. “Well, we are all looking forward to the new film when it comes out. Thank you for talking to us today. Damian Jones, everybody,” Kandice from KNTV-LA says and turns to a different camera. “After the break, we’ve got the Chief of the Green Bean Council, Rick Murphy, to tell us why this longtime side dish might be better as the main course. Stick around.” I warmed up the viewing audience for a guy from the Green Bean Council? “And, we’re out,” someone whose name I couldn’t possibly remember says and comes in front of the camera, removing my microphone. On the little screen, Kandice from KNTV-LA looks up and says, “So, off the record, real first impressions of Emma Roxy?” There’s off the record and there’s off the record. With one, the reporter would rather go to jail for contempt of court than to mention your name in connection with a story. That’s how good reporters get the inside track: they need to have that kind of credibility, to have built that trust. If they start burning their sources, they’re not going to stay competitive because nobody will talk to them. Kandice from KNTV-LA, on the other hand, has that hungry look in her eyes that always signifies a person is ready to do whatever it takes to get bumped up a few spots in her world. Ambition is not a motivator that I generally trust in another person. “Off the record,” I tell her, “I really just met her. She seems to be a competent actor and a pleasant person.” Kandice from KNTV-LA, who had hoped to somehow leverage her leaking my

(assumedly juicy) response into providing her the opportunity to transform herself out of being Kandice from KNTV-LA into Kandice from CNN or Kandice from Good Morning America, clenches her teeth and says a quick “thanks” before the feed goes dark. The little studio I’m in is quickly traversable, and I’m back to my dressing room in no time at all, minus the time it takes to do a couple of pictures and sign a few autographs. “What’s next, Kieran?” I ask my pretentiously-named assistant. “All right,” he says, his feet on my couch, “it looks like you’re back on set at 5 and then you’re done after that. Did you want me to give Meg a call to see if she’s still interested in doing a benefit with you, or do you still want me to wait until the rest of—” “Yeah, we’re just going to wait a bit on that,” I tell him. “I still need to hear back from a couple of the organizers. There are some location concerns, so I’d like to get all that figured out before I start dropping in headliners.” “Where were they planning to do it?” he asks. “I don’t even remember,” I tell him. “What are the concerns?” he asks. He’s always trying to be more involved than I want him to be. Really, I just like having someone make my phone calls and otherwise do all the legwork. The fact that he has a ridiculous name may have factored into my hiring him, but the cruel joy I get out of that isn’t enough to convince me to open up a spot in the inner circle. The inner circle, well, that’s been closed to new applicants for a long time now. “Book me a dinner,” I tell Kieran, “for tonight. Make it for two at La Rodolfo’s at 8 o’clock.” “May I ask who will be joining you?” he asks.

“I don’t like your chances,” I tell him. “They may want to know,” he says. “I’m sure my name will be sufficient to secure a reservation,” I tell him. “Now, call.” He goes off and does his thing while I sit in my chair for a few minutes. I’ve been spoiled by movie set trailers and lavish green rooms. It’s been a while since I’ve done an interview somewhere this low-budget. Sure, it was just a remote, but I’m finding myself frustrated they didn’t think fit to provide me with a better chair. Oh well. I pull out my phone and find the new number, leaning forward to check my teeth in the mirror. “Hello?” the voice answers. “Hey, is this Emma?” I ask. “Yeah,” she responds. “Who’s this?” “It’s your favorite movie star,” I tell her. All right, I’ve enjoyed fucking with her, but that one was just corny. She sighs and says, “What do you need, Damian?” “I was just calling to invite you out for a ‘welcome to the set’ dinner,” I tell her. “I was thinking La Rodolfo’s at 8 o’clock.” “I’m sure they wouldn’t have anything,” she says. “They’re booked out months in advance.” I give a slight chuckle. Not enough to come off as over-the-top conceited, but just enough to help her to the realization. “Oh,” she says. “Famous movie star and all; right.”

“Yeah, so what do you say?” I ask. “They’ve got some of the best Italian cuisine in the city.” “Who else is going?” she asks. “It’d be just you and me,” I tell her. Right about now, you might be asking yourself why I would invite a woman like Emma out to dinner. She’s not very well-connected, and I haven’t really seen anything in her performance that would make me want to get closer to her on a professional level. On a personal level, she’s attractive. She’s a leggy redhead, like Kandice from KNTVLA said. She’s also pretty well-endowed, and her bright blue eyes provide a welcome contrast to her dark red hair. Yeah, she’s attractive, but so are a lot of other women, and other women would bring a lot less paparazzi. Besides, she’s a bit judgmental for my tastes. The real reason is my cousin’s a big fan of hers. I guess he was up late one night and caught one of her movies on cable. Normally, that in itself wouldn’t lead me to extend a dinner invite to someone, but I do owe Nick a favor after I introduced him to Liam Neeson as “the guy who flashed Céline Dion after the Grammys.” While it’s true that Nick wasn’t at the Grammys, and I’ve never heard any reports of Céline Dion being flashed at all, Nick’s been more vocal about the whole thing than I think is really necessary. I hate dealing with my family when I don’t have to—especially extended family. You know, I never knew I had so much extended family until I started making movies. Isn’t it funny how that works out? I don’t like the guy nearly enough to invite him to dinner with Emma and me, but I figure I can probably get her to sign a few things without compromising my godlike,

unapproachable air on the set. “I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t really get the impression that we were going to hit it off.” “Oh, I make a terrible first impression,” I tell her. “Give me a chance to make a better one.” She’s taking a long time to answer. I wasn’t that big of an ass in her trailer or on the set, was I? “Rodolfo’s?” she asks. “Rodolfo’s at 8,” I tell her, “tonight.” “I’m on set at 4, though,” she says. “Yeah, I’m on set at 5,” I tell her. “I’ll talk to Dutch and let him know that you and I have a benefit or something tonight. He won’t mind.” “He won’t mind that two of the major actors in the film are playing hooky with hardly any notice?” she asks. “No,” I tell her. “Benefits like this can bring a lot of attention to a movie in production.” “You say ‘benefits like this’ as if there’s actually a benefit,” she says. “I’m sure there’s one somewhere in the city tonight,” I tell her. “And he won’t mind that you’re going to a benefit and he wasn’t invited to it?” she asks. That’s a fair point. “I’ll tell him it’s an actor thing,” I tell her. “It’ll be fine. So, what do you say?”

She sighs again. “All right,” she says. “Should I meet you there, or—” “I’ll send a car for you,” I tell her. Normally in this scenario, the car I would send would be some rotten, beat-up piece of shit, barely staying on the road (when you tell someone you’re sending a car for them, they always think limo or upscale town car). Spoiling that impression is a rewarding pastime, but I owe Nick no less than three pieces of autographed Emma Roxy swag. I’m really getting sick of the phone calls. It’s not that I’m really so indifferent to Emma. She seems nice enough. She’s just not the sex-crazed, degenerate A-list wannabe that has been my type for so long. “Let me get you my address,” she says. “No need,” I tell her. “What do you mean?” she asks. “I’ve got your address,” I tell her. “What do you mean you’ve got my address?” she asks. “I never gave you my address.” “It’s on the new Mailboxes of the Stars tour map,” I tell her. “Fair warning, if your place doesn’t have a gate in front and walls or tall, sturdy fencing—” “Walls?” she asks. “…then I’d have something put up in a hurry. Once these weirdos find out where you live, if you don’t have a moat around your house, you never get any peace,” I finish. “You really got my address off of one of those maps?” she asks. “How did they get the address?” “Probably bribed someone that knows you,” I tell her. “It really doesn’t matter. So,

reservation’s for 8; why don’t I have the car come get you around, say, 7:30?” “I guess,” she says. “I don’t like that you got my address from—” “I got them from Dutch,” I tell her, “your name and your phone number. I guess directors have access to that kind of thing. Anyway, so, 7:30 sound good?” “Yeah,” she says hesitantly. “That’ll work.” “Great, I’ll see you then,” I tell her and hang up. Okay, so maybe I’m less indifferent toward Emma than I let on. I used to be really into that whole doe-eyed-in-the-face-of-a-major-motion-picture-set look—yes, believe it or not, that’s an actual, distinct look—and attitude, especially the way I could always play the role of mentor to my generally young, often voluptuous pupil. Over the years though, I don’t know if it’s cynicism or what, but I’ve grown tired of all the naiveté. I don’t know if Emma’s necessarily naïve, but she’s close enough to it that I shouldn’t be interested in her, but what can I tell you? Still, with that naiveté comes an increased possibility that she’s not down so much for the dressing room booty call. She seems like a proponent of the phrase, “Let’s make it official.” What is that phrase anyway? What does it mean? Let’s make it official? That’s when all the demands start and the sniping and the interference with my personal and work lives and having to walk by the newsstands that have pictures of me and whoever, making some claim that we’ve just had a major fight—which may or may not be true—and might be breaking up—which is almost never true until she, whoever “she” is, sees the headlines—and that’s something I’d really like to avoid.

Regardless, I’m in a position where I may finally be able to get Nick to forget my fucking phone number. It’s a spiritual quest, really. Maybe over dessert I can see how Emma feels about a three-way. Nothing says noncommittal like proposing that your first sexual act be one with a third person. Nothing says, “Don’t date me unless you’re into some casual, possibly freaky shit” like proposing it on the first date, more so, I would think, when she doesn’t know that it’s a date. Not that this is a date. No, this certainly isn’t a date. I’m just getting a couple of things signed so Nick can take his autographed shit and go fuck himself with it. There is a particular reason that I have a bit of a sour taste behind whatever attraction I have toward Emma, but it’s not worth mentioning here. It’s a personal tic and it really has nothing to do with her. Anyway, Kieran comes back into the dressing room, saying, “Hey, I guess they’re going to need this room in a couple of minutes. They’ve got another interview.” “They don’t have two rooms?” I ask. “If they do,” he says, “they’re going to other people.” “Did you get the reservations?” “Yeah, that’s the thing,” he says. “What’s the thing?” I ask. “They don’t have anything until 9:30,” he tells me. “Call them back and drop my name,” I tell him. “I already told my guest that we’d be

dining at 8.” “Yeah, I did drop your name,” Kieran says. “That’s why I was able to get reservations for tonight. They were going to put me down for sometime in January before they knew I was calling for you. I really wouldn’t worry about it.” I scratch my chin. “That was quite the ball of sympathy you dropped in my lap right there,” I tell him. “What do you mean?” he asks. “Eight would be nice,” I tell him, “but 9:30 isn’t the end of the world. My ego is intact, Kieran.” I whisper, “I’m going to be okay.” Actually, I’m humiliated that I couldn’t get a table exactly when I wanted it and I’m furious that someone other than me and the waitress or whoever was on the phone knows about it. No lie, the thought already crossed my mind how I would dispose of Kieran’s body should I decide to make the secret that much easier to keep. Fortunately for Kieran, though, I’m a peaceful man. “All right,” he says. “Did you already set up the car? I can set that up for you.” It’s a ploy. “Two things,” I tell him. “One, I told you that I’m really not upset. Two, I told you that I’m not telling you who I’m going to dinner with because it’s none of your business. Is there anything else you have to say that I haven’t already said no to today?” I ask. “No,” he says. “All right,” I tell him. “Go home. I’ll call you if I need you.” “Hey, would you mind if I’m maybe not on call tonight?” he asks. “See, my mother’s in town, and I really haven’t been able to spend that much time with her since she got

here. And…” he goes on with his sob story. After a while spent acting like I’m listening so that Kieran can feel like he’s being heard while I’m actually trying to figure out the drum pattern for this song that’s been in my head since I got in the car this morning, I interrupt him and say, “Have the night.” I tell him, “Have tomorrow night, too. Spend some time with the family. That sort of thing’s important, you know.” “Thank you,” he says with his usual, obviously manufactured look of humility and gratitude. I really just keep him around to do the jobs I’m too lazy to want to do and so I can occasionally make fun of his name. He’s not actually a crucial member of team Damian. I’ve let assistants get close before, but I’d rather not talk about that right now. Anyway, I really don’t know why he’s laying it on so thick. The only times that I’ve ever called him at home have been issues of absolute importance. Either that, or the occasional prank call, but mostly it’s been in situations where it was of absolute necessity that I disturb him. I’m not sure he’s aware of the fact that I have never once kept track of his hours. The way it actually works is that I pay him on a sliding scale of how much he’s irritated me that week. If he doesn’t wrap up the thank you parade here pretty quick, I have a feeling he’s not going to end up with that many hours this week. He really should have gone for the salary option. I’m not to be trusted accounting for someone else’s hours. There’s a knock on the door and a woman from the crew pokes her head in. “Hey,” she says. “I’m sorry to bug you, but we really do need the room, so is there

any way I can help you with your things, or—” “We’re going,” I tell her. I grab what I assume is a complimentary bottle of 21-year-old scotch from atop one of the tables. There’s a little paper on a string wrapped around the neck of the bottle that says, “Mr. Hansen.” I don’t know who Mr. Hansen is, but I thank him for the rather expensive bottle of scotch. The woman halfway in the room looks like she wants to tell me something, but can’t find the words with which to do it. I’ll give her time to figure it out. If it’s important, I’m sure it’ll come to her. Out of the dressing room and on my way out of the building, I come to a couple of doors with strips of glass in them. On the other side is a big crowd of young women in their late teens and early 20s. When I was a kid growing up and I would see videos of actors and musicians being rushed through crowds of adoring and attractive female adulators, I would always get a little perturbed. “Didn’t the fucking Beatles understand that those women were ready and willing to screw their brains out?” I would ask myself. I didn’t get it. Okay, I was a weird kid. When you’re a kid, you watch a celebrity being rushed through a crowd and wonder what the big deal is, but when people get into crowds, they cease to be people. Once the group mentality kicks in, you’re just as likely to get killed as you are to get your dick wet.

Since I started getting recognized, I’ve learned not to trust any groups larger than two strangers. The reality of the situation is that if you don’t go through one of those gauntlets with some kind of escort or a good, solid barrier between you and them, chances of making it out of the situation uninjured drop substantially. I’m looking through the glass section of the door at the mob on the other side just waiting to tear me to shreds when I notice that not one of them is looking in my direction. If they were, one of them would have seen me through the glass, and I’d be making a run for it. In fact, as I inch closer for a better angle, they’re all looking toward the center of the group. I open the door. Nobody even looks over at me. They’re all crowded around a man in his early 30s wearing a suit that looks to be in its early 60s. This is just a simple waiting room for people with appointments with someone in one of the offices in the back, but it’s packed almost full with women literally and figuratively throwing themselves at the short, and from what I can tell from where I’m standing, balding man in the middle. I tap one of the women on the shoulder. She turns around and, although it takes a few seconds, she recognizes me. “Oh hey, you’re that actor guy, right?” she asks. I think that counts as being recognized.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “Who’s that man you’re all crowded around?” “Oh, it’s Hershel Hansen,” she says. “Can you believe it?” Can I believe it? Can I believe it? I don’t mean to throw a celebrity fit, but I’m Damian God-Damned Jones, for fuck’s sake. I should be the reason panties are wet in any given room, and I’m not about to be upstaged by Hershel Fucking Hansen, whoever he is. Now that I think about it… I tap the woman on the shoulder again. Yeah, my presence made such little impact that she got bored with the fact that I’m in the room and turned her attention elsewhere. She turns back around with annoyance plastered across her face. “Yeah?” she asks. “Who is Hershel Hansen?” I ask. A couple of the women closest to my informant turn and glare at me as if I’ve just insulted their holiest figure. Maybe I have. How the fuck should I know? “You’re kidding, right?” she asks. “Can’t say that I am,” I answer. It looks like she’s about to answer, but as she’s standing in such a way that she can talk to me and still keep an eye on Hansen, she sees him start to move toward the backstage area and she jumps back into the pack. I’ve been replaced in the hearts and sexual organs of young, horny women.

This just might be the worst day of my life. As I walk the rest of the way out of the building, I fail in my effort not to allow myself to think about the real reason I’m not so thrilled about Emma. The reason is very simple, though the answer to alleviating the problem is impossible: she’s on her way up and I, well, I just got the brush-off from a whole group of women who even three years ago would have been generally assaulting me with undergarments. It’s not that I really miss having women throwing their panties at me—I was always concerned about the hygiene involved—but the fact that that time may be drawing to a close is a depressing one. Emma: she’s 20. I’m not old by anyone’s standards, but at 29, it’s starting to look like my ”young actor” days might be behind me, not to mention my steamiest roles. There’s always the late-30s rebound that can last a long time—especially if you’re Sean Connery—but I don’t know if my career can handle the in-between. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to start taking parts with a modicum of substance, and frankly, I’ve been doing fluff shit for so long that I’m not even sure I could hack it in a substantive film anymore. The reason I’m fine with teasing Emma, but not interested in her beyond the role of plaything, is that she’s my up-in-the-face reminder that I’m not the new, exciting actor anymore—and I never will be again. There’s nothing left that I can do to surprise anyone. I could get arrested with a rifle in a brothel and people would just chalk it up to frustration over a flagging career or drugs or some kind of midlife crisis or some combination of the three. For Emma, everything’s in front of her. Me? I’m feeling more and more like I should

just write my memoirs and get out while I’m still relevant. I’m in actor limbo: I’m too young to be beloved, and I’ve been in the business far too long to be considered a rising star. I probably shouldn’t hold Emma so personally accountable for that, but I do. It is what it is.

Chapter Three Dinner for Two Emma So I’m here, sitting at the table that Damian reserved, and I’m checking my watch. I would call him, but the number he used to call me earlier came up as private. I might do what he did and simply give Dutch a call, but I don’t have his phone number, either. I’m starting to wonder whether this is some kind of prank. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” Damian says, rushing around to the empty chair across from me. “I got a bit caught up looking into something.” “What were you looking into?” I ask. “Hershel Hansen,” he says. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” “Hershel Hansen?” I ask. “You mean that computer guy?” He seems irritated by the question. “Anyway, I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he says. “I’m just glad that you came at all,” I tell him, and point toward the front of the restaurant. “You see the people waiting for a table?” “Yeah,” he answers. “They could see me, too,” I tell him. “You wouldn’t believe some of the gestures and mouthed words I’ve been getting from those people, sitting at this table alone and eating

nothing but the breadsticks they keep bringing out. You know, I think the worst part is when they’re refilling the basket and I’m stuck here with just my water to keep me company. I was really starting to fear an uprising.” “I’m really very sorry,” he says. “So, before we get to dinner, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.” “What’s that?” I ask. “I have a cousin who’s a big fan of yours,” he says. “Would you mind signing a couple of things for him?” I can feel my face growing warm. I can only imagine how red it must be right now. I’ve given autographs before, but it’s always been as a cute, kitschy thing, like a headshot for one of my nieces or something. This is the first time anyone’s seriously asked me for my autograph. I guess I did give a lot of autographs to the sci-fi crowd when I played a role with a particularly plunging neckline, but I’d hardly call that a result of adulation. Most of them didn’t even know my real name and just kept calling me Dr. Tchaikovsky or Mistress Death Head or whoever I happened to be in that particular film. “Sure,” I tell him. As Damian reaches into his bag for the items he wants me to sign for his cousin, the waiter arrives at our table. “I’m glad to see that your companion is here,” the waiter, Nolan, says. “Are you two ready to order?” “Actually, I haven’t really had a chance to peruse the menu,” Damian says. “Would you mind giving us a few more minutes?” “Well, we have already been holding this table for—wait,” the waiter stops. “You’re

Damian Jones, aren’t you?” Damian smiles. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he says. “Take as much time as you need.” Just to make sure that what I think is happening is actually happening, I look toward the people in the front still waiting for a table. They’re still looking over at my table, but now they’re nudging each other and taking pictures on their cell phones. Yep. Nobody recognized me. To them, I was, at first, just a woman sitting in a restaurant, keeping them from a table. Now, I’m the woman sitting in a restaurant with Damian Jones, though, and everyone seems to be interested. It takes about that long for me to look down at the table at what Damian brought me to sign for his cousin. “Let’s see,” I say, picking up each of the three items, one at a time, “a partially-used tube of toothpaste, a pair of scissors, and a condom.” “Yeah,” he says. “My cousin collects all sorts of things.” “Your cousin collects tubes of toothpaste?” I ask. “Actually, no,” Damian says. “He doesn’t actually collect any of those. I just picked these because I thought they would be hilarious to give to him.” “But you still want me to sign all of this?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says, “if you wouldn’t mind.” I look down. Okay, the little boost I was feeling a few minutes ago is now completely gone, and replacing it is the question of whether or not I’m really so hard up when it comes to

getting recognized that I’m willing to sign the first three things Damian Jones happened to grab on his way out of the house. Maybe I could just use this moment as an anecdote for when I’m on The Tonight Show, if they ever call. I don’t know. I think I’d be too embarrassed. I swallow any impression I had of my own dignity and ask Damian if he has a pen. He pulls a Sharpie from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it over to me. “Just walk around with that, do you?” I ask. “You never know when it’s going to come in handy,” he says. The thing about Damian Jones isn’t that I dislike him for the little games he plays, or that I think he’s an egocentric jerk. No, there’s a much different reason why I’ve got this feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it’s only chance and proximity that it’s directed toward him at all. Still, that feeling remains. I sign the scissors and the condom, but the tube of toothpaste is giving me some problems. I’m a person who prides herself on the aesthetic quality of my signature, but with all the ripples and overall unevenness of the tube, it’s difficult to do anything that’s even recognizable as my autograph. I muddle my way through, though, and finally get to the question that I’ve wanted to ask Damian since he invited me to dinner. “So, what am I doing here?” I ask. “I just thought it would be nice to get to know you a bit,” he says. “We’re going to be working closely for a while and I thought it would be nice if we could be friends.”

“That’s a decent sentiment,” I tell him. My problem with Damian, on the most basic level, is that he’s got all of this fame and all of this freedom as one of the most highly sought actors in Hollywood, and that he doesn’t seem to appreciate any of it. It was one thing before I met Damian when I could pretend that he must be that down-to-earth, personable kind of actor who only uses his fame and fortune for good that people always project onto their favorite actors or musicians. Back then, I could at least imagine that he had enough poise and decency that I wouldn’t feel this need to see him fall in the mud. Ah, the fairy tales we make up for ourselves. Now, though, he’s said a couple of things here and there that would almost point to a more mature and enlightened perspective, I know better than to expect that as something intrinsic to his character. It’s more like a glitch in the Matrix: chances are, they’re an indication that something bad is about to happen. We talk a while, but it becomes pretty evident pretty quickly that there’s not much common experience between us other than working on the set of this movie. At one point, he tried to tell me how he had some profound experience on his way out of a remote interview, but he gave up on the story before reaching any kind of point. We have our dinner and it’s easy enough to see why we’re having such a hard time speaking with one another. I don’t think it’s that we’re really such drastically different creatures that we’re never going to understand each other. I think it’s more the fact that both of us are staying away from any topic of conversation that could be considered even remotely personal or real. I can’t prove it, but I kind of get the feeling that he doesn’t really like me all that well.

I guess that’s fair, though, as I’m not sure that I like him that well right now, either. “So, why are we here?” I ask after we’re through the fourth, though surprisingly not final, course. I don’t really get a satisfying answer. * * * I get home and I’m almost certain that Damian just invited me to dinner so he could get me to sign that random bullshit that may or may not go to one of his relatives. It’s hard to say why he wouldn’t just do that on the set, but maybe he was worried it might weaken him in some strange way to be seen receiving an autograph from me in front of the cast and crew. As for me, I’m hoping for a quiet night where I can decompress and try to reconcile my dreams of being an actress in a major film with the soul-crushing reality of it. Like everything else, though, the night doesn’t go as planned. My phone rings, and without bothering to check the caller ID, I answer it. “Is this Emma Roxy?” a man on the other end asks. Maybe Damian was right about the need for walls. “Yeah,” I answer. I was hoping I’d never have to hear this voice again. “What do you want, Ben?” “Hey, look at that,” he says. “You do remember me.” Yeah, I remember Ben.

Ben is a guy I dated shortly after I graduated high school and dated off and on for nearly a year. He’s also someone who, during the entirety of our relationship, never once took me seriously. To him, I was always the hot wannabe actor that he was banging. He never believed that I would make anything of myself, not just as an actress, but in general. He didn’t mind letting me know his rather low opinion of me, either. “It’s been almost a year since we’ve talked, and if you’re wondering, I can tell you that it absolutely has not been long enough,” I tell him. “I’ve missed our little chats,” he says. “What do you want, Ben?” I ask. “No need to take that tone,” he says. “At least not until after I actually tell you what it is that I want.” “Is there any way we can do this in a way that doesn’t take a lot of time or, you know, interaction?” I ask. “I’ve had a long night, and I’d rather just get back to pretending that you don’t exist as soon as possible. I find that I’m happier that way.” “This shouldn’t take long,” he says. “I just wanted to call you and let you know that I’m going to be releasing those pictures that I took of you when we were dating. That is, unless you’d like to pay for the privilege of having them disappear.” “Pictures?” I ask. “What pictures?” “I think you know exactly the ones I’m talking about,” he says, and it’s not until he says that that I do. “We had only been going out for a month or two,” I tell him. “I had no idea what kind of slime you were when I agreed to let you take those pictures of me. I’m not going to let you blackmail me with them.”

Yeah, about those pictures… The pictures are probably about what you’re expecting them to be, though possibly not as graphic as what you’re envisioning. When Ben and I were first dating, we went on a trip with one another. This was when he was still acting like a human being, though that other shoe wouldn’t take too much longer to drop. At one point, the two of us—well, we went skinny dipping. I told Ben to leave the camera on the shore, but he grabbed it anyway. After a few minutes spent convincing me that nobody but he and I would ever see the pictures, I relented. Ironic, huh? He’s now blackmailing me by threatening to publicize the pictures that wouldn’t have been taken in the first place if he hadn’t assured me that we’d be the only two to ever see them. “Do you really think some nude photos are going to hurt my career?” I ask. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the world in which we live, but people love few things more than seeing a pair of famous tits. If you’re threatening to take me from accomplished actress to accomplished actress and sex symbol, go ahead,” I tell him. “Do it. See if I care.” He doesn’t fall for the bluff. “No,” he says. “I know you well enough to know that having these pictures made public would mortify you. I’m thinking maybe we should start talking numbers.” “What does it say about you that you’re going through with this even though you claim to know that these pictures coming out would make me miserable? I wonder why things didn’t work out with us,” I tell him.

“Whatever,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll remember that I’m a reasonable man. I think that $5,000 a month should be enough to keep your little secret for you.” “Five thousand a month?” I ask. “You’re asking me to pay you $60,000 a year just to keep you from showing off a few blurry pictures?” “Yeah,” he says. “Considering that you’re in that new movie they’re making with Damian Jones, I’d say you should have plenty of cash to spare.” “And where does it end?” I ask. “I do this and you hold this over my head for the rest of my career or the rest of my life or what?” “I’m not talking about anything like that,” he says. “I think we can call it quits after 17 years.” “That’s a really specific timeframe you’ve got there,” I tell him. “That would be when I’m what, past my prime? Is that how long you think I have left in this business?” “I have no idea how long you’re going to be in that business,” he says, “though I’m sure it won’t be anywhere near 17 years. I just thought that asking you for a million dollars up-front would sound too pushy. I figured a monthly payment plan would be the more civil approach.” “You’re a humanitarian,” I tell him. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “So, what’s it going to be? Do we have a deal, or are we going to be waking up with an eyeful of you on every website in the galaxy?” “First off,” I tell him, “I’m not that famous. This is my first big role, and I don’t know how much you think they’re paying me, but it’s probably a lot more than the reality. You let those pictures out and I’ll get a little embarrassed, sure, but all that really happens otherwise is that more people are going to find out exactly who I am, which helps my career in the long term, and more people are going to see this movie, which is going to

help my career in the short term. Do you really think I’m going to give up a million dollars just to keep my nipples out of the zeitgeist?” “Yeah,” he says, “I really do.” “Knock yourself out,” I tell him, giving my play at indifference one last shot at working. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “I was trying to think of who to send it to first, but I guess it won’t really matter. Everyone’s going to have a copy of it by morning.” “You really think you’re going to bully your way into a million dollars, don’t you?” I ask. “It’s actually a million and change, but that wasn’t really your question. Yeah, I really think I’m going to get what I want,” he says. “I know you. You weren’t even that comfortable with just me having these pictures—” “Looks like I had pretty good reason,” I interrupt. “Whatever,” he says. “Look, I know that you’re not going to want anyone to see you like that unless it’s for some big role or something, and even in that case, you wouldn’t want to saturate the market with too much of your naked body, otherwise, people are going to start thinking you’re a porn star.” “Well,” I sigh, “if that happens, at least it looks like I know just the guy to go through for advice.” Maybe Damian will come in handy for something. “What?” he asks. “Five thousand a month?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll give you the account number so you can transfer the money, and

this can be the last time we ever speak to each other, assuming you keep up with the payments, of course.” There are two possibilities in my mind right now. The first is that I can stand up for myself, inform the world of these pictures myself, in order to control the story, and then turn Ben in for blackmail. I like the idea of him being removed from society. Hell, I like the idea of him being removed from just about anything. The problem with this route, though, is that the pictures are going to get out there. The same thing happened to Pamela Anderson. The second possibility is that I keep my public sense of dignity intact, but give a horrible person a horribly large amount of money. “Can I have some time to think about it?” I ask. “I’ll give you 72 hours,” he says. “By the way, if you’ve got some idea that you’re going to call the cops and that they’re going to stop me before I can release the pictures, let me just tell you that I’ve got an email set up to send to the LA Times and E! with all of those pictures attached. If I don’t put in a password on a regular enough basis,” he says, “that email goes off on its own and that decision is no longer yours.” “You do realize that everything you’re saying will happen to me is still nowhere near as bad as everything that would happen to you,” I tell him. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, “but I have a feeling the way we experience the consequences of our actions—I think you’d have a much harder time with that than I would. I go to prison for something like that, I’m still the guy that hooked everyone in the world up with naked pictures of a hot, young actress who, by the way, I was dating at the time, and you know how that sort of thing turns into interviews and the eventual apology

for doing something so ‘outside my character’ that allows me to take a greater role in the public eye. Who knows where all that could lead? Really, all things considered, this could work out pretty well for me. The question you’ve got to ask yourself is how famous do you want me to be?” Right now, I’d be pretty happy if neither one of us were famous. “Three days?” I ask. “Three days,” he says, “starting now. I’ll call you when your time is up and we’ll see what kind of a future we’re going to have.” He hangs up the phone. There is actually a part of me that’s actually excited to know that I’m influential enough to be blackmailed, but it’s a small and rather crazy part.

Chapter Four Refilling the Well Damian “You’re losing it,” Danna says as I pour my fourth glass of milk. I know I’m not the first adult who tries to find comfort at the bottom of a homemade chocolate milk glass, but that particular escape can be somewhat hard to hide. “You didn’t see them,” I tell her. “They honestly couldn’t give a shit that I was in the room. Even the woman I talked to that recognized me just called me ‘that actor guy’ and did everything she could to pry herself out of our conversation.” “The problem,” Danna says, “is that you’re just a great big pussy.” “Excuse me?” I ask. “I know that’s not the answer you were looking for,” she says, “but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Danna’s been staying with me for the last six months. She’s been getting run down a lot lately, but with her here, at least I can try to get her to slow down. When I told Emma that family’s important, I meant it. If there’s one way in which I’m boringly normal, it’s my attachment to my twin. “You know,” I tell her, “keep talking to me like that and I’m going to have to ask you to start pitching in around here.” “What are you talking about?” Danna asks. “I’m the only one that ever does shit

around here. You just pop by every once in a while to check your bank account and make life difficult for me. If anything, you should start pitching in around here.” “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I tell her, “but this is my house.” “Whatever,” she says. “Look, people are not going to be interested in you every moment of every day you’re an actor. This sort of thing ebbs and flows. After your movie comes out, I bet that you’re going to be swamped with people trying to get close to you. We both knew that taking that extra time between movies was going to make things dip for a little while, but you’re already filming. You just need to get over it. I’ll make a couple of calls and get you set up with a couple of feel-good gigs to get you back in the public eye, since it’s so fucking crucial for you to feel that salty stare moving over your body at all times. Maybe you can christen a boat or something.” Danna, apart from being my sister, is also my agent. “I’m telling you, Danna,” I answer, “this wasn’t just ‘we haven’t seen you in a while,’ this was ‘oh hey, you’re that guy who used to be famous.’ I really think my career’s on its way down.” “Oh, we’re years from that,” Danna says. “With my skills, I should have you working well into your late 30s, possibly your 40s.” “Thanks,” I tell her. “You’re really giving me a long career to look forward to.” “Well, I hear that a lot of women go through menopause in their 40s, and I think it wouldn’t be fair to you to make you work during the big change,” she says. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to process when a woman calls a man a woman?” I ask. “You’re using your own gender as something derogatory.” “Don’t care,” Danna says. “What you need to do is quit being scared of every little thing. This is going to be Emma Roxy’s breakout movie, and I know how you pout when

you’re not the big dick on campus—” “Seriously?” I interrupt. “Don’t worry about that, though,” she says. “You should be able to ride her coattails all the way to your next film.” “You’re not helping,” I tell her. “I didn’t think I was,” she says. “I was just trying to get through your little bitch session so we could get back to more important things.” “You’re my agent,” I tell her. “What am I supposed to do?” She says, “If it was something we could do anything about—even if it was something we couldn’t change, but was an actual problem—I would jump right in and cheer you up, but you’re throwing a fit because people who were at a TV station for someone other than you didn’t immediately drop their drawers when you came into the room. I’m just trying to decide whether it’s more annoying or more pathetic.” As twins, Danna and I have always been close, but we’ve never been the ones that make up their own language or wash each other’s hair or anything like that. For all intents and purposes, Danna is just another sibling trying to tell me how to run my career. Okay, she’s also my agent, and thus actually has the right and responsibility to do that, but still, it gets frustrating. “I’m going to go grab the mail,” she says. “You stay in here and think of ways to hide the fact that you’ve got a big vagina or turn it into a promotional thing.” She leaves the room, and I’m just irritated. I got Nick the autographs, but the confusion and hesitantly uttered thank you hardly

brightened my mood at all. I can see the end coming, but I don’t know when or how it’s going to happen. There was never any misconception on my part that I’d end up one of those lifelong actors who’s doing their thing on the screen until they’re dead. No, unless I die in the next few years, I’m going to live a good portion of the rest of my life as an ex-celebrity. I just don’t have the drive anymore for things to end any other way. Even knowing that, though, doesn’t make that downward tilt any easier to accept. “Damian?” Danna calls as she opens the front door. “What?” I call back. “You need to see this and I need to call the police,” she says. “What are you talking about?” I ask, and make my way into the other room to meet her. She’s standing in the doorway, holding a letter, her eyes moving back and forth as she reads over it. “What is it?” I ask. “It’s not good,” she says. “Let me see it,” I tell her, and she hands it over to me. She’s pulling her phone out of her pocket and walking into the other room as I read over the first words of the letter. “Dami,” the letter starts, “I know that you’ve never seen me, but I’ve been watching you for so long now. I know you in ways that I don’t even know myself. So much of my life, I’ve wanted to write this letter, to tell you how much I love you now and how much I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you on Kids’ Quests. You’ve turned into quite

a handsome man and a remarkable actor. I think it’s time that you know who I am, because one day, I know that you’re going to be asking me to be your wife. Yours always and forever, Rita” “What?” I ask. “It’s a love letter. I get those all the time.” “You used to get them all the time,” Danna says, “but this isn’t a love letter. This is the first stage of a manifesto.” “What are you talking about?” I ask. “She came on pretty strong, but that doesn’t mean anything.” “Yeah, this is a little more than coming on a bit strong,” Danna says. “You didn’t see the package outside.” “There’s a package?” I ask. “That’s the only thing I know to call it,” Danna says, and then presses the phone harder against her ear. “Yeah, I’m at 28153 South Willow Banks with Damian Jones and he just received a threat.” “Oh, it’s not a threat,” I tell her. She mouthes the words, “Look outside,” and then turns and walks deeper into the house. The letter was a bit creepy, but not everyone knows how to best put their thoughts and feelings down on paper. Rita, whoever she is, probably just got so nervous writing me that she forgot to leave out the crazy in the letter. It happens all the time.

I’d rather have it be an adoring fan who just isn’t that great with words than a psycho for obvious reasons, but I’m not going to deny the ego boost I’m really hoping to hold onto here. I’ve got a lot of justifications running through my head until I walk out the front door and see what Danna was talking about. Sitting just outside my front door is a black garbage bag full of something I can’t see, though the top is open. Around the bottom of the bag is a dark red liquid that I’m really hoping isn’t what it so very clearly is. I take a few steps toward the bag and almost choke from the stench. Whatever’s in the bag, it’s dead. That’s not the most comforting thought as I move forward and nudge one side of the bag over to expose the contents inside. * * * “No,” I tell the officer, “I don’t know anyone named Rita. When are you going to be able to tell me what’s in the bag?” “We’ve got to run some tests,” the officer says dismissively. “Have you recently made enemies with anyone?” “No more than usual,” I tell him. “What does that mean?” he asks. “Just bad reviews in the press,” I tell him. “Nothing I’d really worry about.”

“Were any of them threatening, violent?” the officer asks. “Nothing like that,” I tell him. There was one op-ed that called for my crucifixion because, in my last movie, my character wore a hat with a star on it the writer of the piece apparently mistook for a symbol of Baphomet, and she thought that I was trying to send a secret message that children should start worshipping Satan. One of the many gripes I have with the whole “hidden messages” conspiracy nonsense is where exactly do these people think kids learn these secret codes it would take to interpret the messages they’re accusing me of hiding in my performances? If I’m wearing a star on my hat, hell, it could be a hat sporting the goat’s head in the middle of the inverted pentagram with the Hebrew letters for Leviathan around the edges and I’m willing to bet you a million dollars that not one single kid would see that and think it’s time to take up Satanism. How many kids did they really think were playing Judas Priest albums backward to look for secret commands, and even if they put the words “do it” backward in a song, just how the fuck would kids know what it was they were supposed to do? Idiots! Sorry. It’s a pet peeve of mine. Anyway, I’m not worried that the woman that wrote the article is plotting to kill me or even go any farther than she did in the article. “All right,” the officer questioning me says, “well, I’ll give you over to Detective Tompkins here. He’s got a few more questions for you.” I answer everything the man asks, but there’s nothing I can really give him to point him in the right direction.

You know, as I think about it, being stalked, especially by someone who’s this willing to get right in there close—I mean, she got past my gate with a bag full of what looked like chopped up meat, after all—is kind of its own form of adulation. “Sir?” the detective asks. “Yeah,” I answer, shaking myself out of my thoughts. “Was it you that found the bag or did someone else find it?” the detective asks. “My sister,” I tell him, “Danna. She’s the one that found it.” “All right,” he says. “We’ll give you a call when we find out more. Until then,” he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a business card, “give me a call if you can think of anything else that might be relevant or if you receive anything else from this individual.” I take the card and say, “Thank you. By the way,” I add. “Nobody calls me Dami. I mean absolutely nobody I know has ever called me that.” “We’ll keep you posted,” the detective nods, and walks away. Danna’s on the other side of the driveway, talking to another cop when the detective walks up to her, and I’m starting to think I’ve jumped ship and lost my mind: I actually find it kind of flattering that I have a stalker. I’ve really got to start dating again.

Chapter Five The Guru Emma I can’t believe I’m doing this. I really can’t. “Damian?” I ask, tapping my costar on the shoulder. “Yeah?” he answers, turning around. He turns back to the pair of his groupies that apparently work on the sound staff, saying, “I’ll talk to you later,” and he turns back toward me. “You remember how you said that you’ve been in the business long enough to know how to deal with certain things?” I ask. “You did do porn!” he exclaims. “I knew it! Pouty lips like that, there’s no way some skeevy producer doesn’t pick you out for a role in his buddy’s next project.” “No, I’m not—Damian, I didn’t do porn,” I tell him, after managing to get him to stop bouncing with excitement. He stops bouncing. “Oh,” he says. “Well, that’s a shame. I was really looking forward to a viewing party. Oh well,” he says and claps his hands, “how else can I be of service to you today?” “Well, it’s not porn…exactly,” I start. A smile creeps back up Damian’s face. “It’s nothing too bad, really,” I tell him. “I had a boyfriend a year or so ago who took

some naked pictures of me and now he’s trying to blackmail me with them and he’s given me 72 hours, 26 of which have passed, to decide whether I’m going to pay him $5,000 a month for the next 17 years or if I’m going to end up on the front page of every tabloid for the first time in my career, only it’s not going to be some kind of bad gossip or award win that’s going to put me there on the covers. No, it’s going to be those stupid pictures that my stupid ex took almost two years ago, and I’m going to be a fucking laughingstock for the rest of my life.” I realize that I’m breathing a little heavy, so I do my best to relax. “That’s quite the story,” he says. “You know the guy’s got the pictures?” “Of course he has them,” I answer. “He’s the one that took them. It was his camera.” “Yeah, but have you seen the pictures?” he asks. “Well,” I think back, “no. Come to think of it, I never saw those pictures. You think he’s just trying to lie his way into seven figures?” “I don’t know,” Damian says. “What I do know is that I wouldn’t even consider paying that kind of cash unless I knew for a fact he had the pictures and copies.” “He said that he’s already attached the photos to two emails, one to the LA Times and one to E! He told me that if he doesn’t put in a password every so often, they’ll send on their own. Is that even possible?” I ask. “Actually, it is,” Damian says. “It’s pretty easy to set up, too, but that’s neither here nor there. I’d say the first thing you need to do is contact him and have him give you proof the pictures exist and that he has them.” “What happens after that?” I ask. He’s being quite helpful right now. It’s kind of making me nervous. “That depends on him, really,” Damian says. “If it turns out he doesn’t have the

pictures, you call him an asshole and hang up on him.” “If it turns out that he does have the pictures?” I ask. “Well, that depends on you, really,” Damian says. “Just how racy are the photos?” “I’m naked in them,” I tell him, “but it’s not like I’m doing stuff with anyone.” “Are you masturbating in the photos?” he asks. “I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” I snap. “The reason I’m asking is that some pictures of you naked might actually help your career, but pictures of you naked and masturbating are going to alienate a whole lot of people,” he says. “What difference does it make?” I ask. “For some people, it’s the difference between heaven and hell. Can you imagine?” he asks. “Anyway, so are you flicking the bean or not?” “Not,” I tell him. “I’m just naked in the water.” “Can you even see anything?” Damian asks. “Well, again, I haven’t actually seen any of the pictures, but I don’t think much is left to the imagination,” I tell him. “It was low tide.” “Okay,” he says. “So, you’ve got an ex who’s blackmailing you with some old nudie pics you had him take back when the two of you were a thing. You haven’t seen the pictures, you don’t know if they actually exist, but even if they do get out, there’s no sexual contact going on, only nudity. Fuck it,” he says, “I’d save my money and wait for the book offers to start rolling in.” “Book off—” I start. “People are into weird shit,” Damian says. “A lot of people are going to say that being

betrayed like this humanizes you and a lot of other people are going to say that it humanizes you too much, that your mystique is gone and they’ll call for you to drop out of the spotlight. There are going to be parents groups and church groups that condemn you for acting in a manner that’s immoral and sets a bad example. While women are generally going to be understanding and sympathetic, there are going to be a lot of them that start calling you a skank.” “What about men?” I ask. “We’ve covered just about every other demographic. How would they react to those pictures?” Damian smiles and says, “How do you think?” Well, this is just great. “Overall, this really isn’t going to hurt you that much. You’re going to have a lot of people in the media turn on you, but even more will hop on your bandwagon, either because they want to fuck you or because they want to make some cash off the fact that you got fucked,” Damian says. “Overall, though,” he repeats, “this really isn’t going to hurt you that much.” “So you’re saying I should just tell him to go screw himself and let what happens happen?” I ask. “I’d start by finding out whether those pictures are real or not,” he says. “Pay attention. So that’s the worst case scenario of you not paying him off. If you do decide to pay him off,” Damian continues, “you run the risk that he ups the price on you or that the million only gets you some, not all, of the pictures, or that he otherwise tries to screw you. Best case scenario, he keeps his mouth shut, keeps the pictures in his drawer, and you end up paying him a shitload of money. Yeah,” he says, “I’d say you’re pretty well fucked.” “I think the real worst case scenario would be the pictures get released and nobody cares,” I mutter.

“There’s always that,” he says. “I really don’t think you’ve got to worry about something like that happening, though.” “Why’s that?” I ask. “So,” he says, “we’ve got a few minutes before we’re halfway through waiting for the next scene to get set up. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” “What? Why?” I ask. “Call it a favor for a favor,” he says. “So, what happened with the guy who’s blackmailing you? I can’t imagine he was that good of a boyfriend if he’s the kind of person that’s willing to do this to you.” “He wasn’t,” I answer. “He wasn’t a very good person in general, actually.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Damian says. “Isn’t that a weird kind of response to the situation? What else is there to say, though? After a while in the dating world, everyone dates a few people that should earn them a sorry, I guess. Were the two of you serious?” “I was,” I answer. “I think. I don’t know that I was really all that serious about making it work with him. It was more that I was terrified of not being able to make a relationship work at all. I was just out of high school, and I was really insecure because I hadn’t really dated all that much, and why the hell am I telling you this?” I ask. “I’m in the room,” he says. Something in the way he says it convinces me to keep going, so I talk for a while about the nightmare that dating Ben really was and Damian just keeps nodding as I go. “I don’t know, I guess if nothing else, he taught me that true love is a myth,” I conclude. “Why do you say that?” Damian asks.

“We all just put whatever we want to see on whomever we’re with,” I tell him. “Most of the time I was with Ben, I didn’t see him as a neglectful, emotionally abusive dick. I saw him as the man that I loved, a man who was so patient with me that even when I was making all of these mistakes in my life, he would still take the time to tell me where I should go from there. It’s a rosy version of the truth, no doubt, but for a while, it was my only truth.” “I guess you could say that we have a tendency to put our hopes on those we’re with,” Damian says, “but I don’t think that rules out love.” “What’s love, though, if you’re never sure if your feelings for someone you’re with are there because of who it is they actually are or because they just happen to be fitting your narrative closely enough that you can scrawl out some of the details that you’d rather ignore?” I ask. “I would imagine being conscious helps,” Damian laughs. “All it takes to see whether or not you really like a person is to spend some time with them. Either you’ll find yourself making excuses for their behavior or you’ll find yourself actually enjoying it. It’s really not that hard.” “If it’s so easy,” I tell him, “wouldn’t that mean that I should have developed a solid idea about whether or not I like you by now, too? We’ve spent some time together alone.” “I wouldn’t say that,” Damian responds. “Dinner, maybe, I guess, but I really doubt you were sitting there with that question on your mind.” “Jones!” someone behind me calls out, and I turn around. Trey, one of the set’s security guys, is waving Damian over to him. “Well, uh,” Damian says, “I’ve got to go—I’ll talk to you later.” “All right,” I tell him. “Thanks for the advice, I guess.”

He didn’t really help me figure anything out, but he did seem to put some effort into trying. “How much longer do you have to decide?” he asks. “A little less than two days,” I tell him. “Okay,” Damian says. “Let’s talk about this more before you make any definite choices here. Until then, see if you can work out a way to see if he has those pictures for yourself. There’s no sense dragging this whole thing on if he doesn’t actually have the goods.” “Thanks,” I tell him again. “I really do appreciate it.” “Roxy!” Dutch calls out from across the room, and I walk over to talk to him as Damian makes his way up to the security guy. “Hey, Dutch,” I say as I come close enough to the director, “are we ready for my next scene yet?” “Not quite,” Dutch says. “You do know that we’re going to be shooting your big scene with Damian next week, right?” “My big scene?” I ask. “Yeah,” Dutch answers, “the intimate scene between your two characters.” “Okay, yeah, what about it?” I ask. “I’ve never worked with you before,” he says, “so I don’t really know everything you can do. One of the things that’ll kill a movie like this faster than an outbreak of salmonella in the popcorn butter is a romantic pair that doesn’t look good showing their affection with one another.” “What are you suggesting?” I ask.

“Jones has been in this business a while, and I’ve even had the chance to work with him a couple of times. He knows what I like to see from a pair,” Dutch says. “The two of you should set up time to go over your mannerisms that way.” “All right,” I answer dismissively. “I’m serious,” he says. “I can’t have a romantic comedy where the guy and the girl look like they’re kissing their relatives.” “Look, I know that I’m not all that experienced in major films,” I say, “but wouldn’t it work just as well if I talk to an acting coach?” “Look,” he says, “I don’t care about your performances after this movie. What I care about is that the two of you look good kissing and all that other stuff.” “So what do you suggest that Damian and I do to make sure we’re on the same page?” I ask. Dutch smirks and chuckles, saying, “I’m sure the two of you can figure something out. Whatever you do, just do it before next week. I really can’t afford to hold up shooting because the two of you don’t know how to look like you’re actually comfortable kissing each other.” With that, Dutch spots someone else that he needs to talk to more pressingly than me and he runs off after him. All around, people are going. Everywhere around me, people are walking with purpose, performing their tasks, moving on to the next one: all of them have something to do. Me, on the other hand? I’m in between takes and the only thing I have to do right now is figure out a way to make it look like Damian and I have the kind of physical chemistry that will translate onto film.

It’s not hard to fake arousal, but faking intimacy—not just physical or sexual intimacy, but emotional, spiritual closeness? That’s one of the more difficult things an actor can be asked to do, though we’re asked to do it all the time. Everyone I’ve talked to in the business has their own way of dealing with it. Some people pretend that whoever they’re supposed to love on film is their spouse or their mistress, or in one rather odd case, a 1994 Honda Accord—I have no idea how that one actually worked, and I have no inclination to change that fact. Me? I’ve never really been put in a position where that kind of thing would really matter. You do your best when you’re paying your dues in the B-movies or theater or commercials or whatever you’re doing while you’re waiting for your big break, but a director who’s making a film about a giant shark and a giant leopard doing battle on the streets of Manhattan isn’t going to bother telling you if your attraction for the man who just killed a dozen cultists and decapitated a golden statue doesn’t come across as believable. Shit, if it were believable, it would probably ruin the movie. So, here I am, just standing around, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, I’m going to figure out what to do about Ben, but I have serious doubts that that’s going to happen before my time’s up. I would just call him now and set up a time to see the pictures he’s blackmailing me with, but it shouldn’t be much longer before I’m due on camera and I really don’t want to have to call Ben twice. For now, though, I’ve got nothing to do, so I just wait for Damian to finish up his conversation with Trey the Security Guy. I’m not waiting long.

“Hey there,” I say, walking over to Damian as Trey leaves. “…hey…” Damian responds, staring after Trey. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Oh, it’s just one of those—it’s this…it’s nothing,” he says finally. Damian’s pale and sweating. Whatever’s bothering him, though, it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it. “I think you and I should schedule some time to meet up over the next week or so,” I tell him. “Why’s that?” he asks. “Oh, right,” he says, “the whole blackmail thing.” “Yeah, I’m probably going to want to talk to you more about that,” I tell him. I shouldn’t be this nervous. “I talked to Dutch, though,” I start again. “He said that he doesn’t want us to…I mean, he thinks it would be best if we looked like we were…” It’s really not that hard to put into words, but I’m having one hell of a time trying to figure out how to do it. “I don’t know what you’re asking me,” Damian says absently. “Dutch wants us to figure out a way to make it look like we’ve got sexual chemistry,” I tell him. “Do you have any ideas?” “That’s what you’re worried about?” Damian asks, finally smiling a bit. “We can knock that out in a weekend. Just to let you know, though, this is one of those life situations where transference is a very real possibility.” “Transference?” I ask. “You mean like when a patient falls in love with their therapist?” “Same thing,” he answers. “Just try not to fall too far in love with me, though. I have

a lot on my plate right now.” “Yeah,” I scoff. “I’ll try to keep a handle on that.”

Chapter Six The Limitations of Decency Damian Tofu. What that bag whoever left on my driveway was filled with—it was fucking tofu cut to look like severed animal limbs covered in fermented raspberry sauce for blood. This week on Vegans Attack… I guess it’s something that no animals were harmed in the making of the little scene outside my door, but that doesn’t put my mind at much ease, either. The pink cloud I was on, relishing the stalker because she was an indication that my career still had some vitality left, that’s gone now. Ever since yesterday, I’ve been having Trey walk me to and from my car on the set, and Danna called a company that specializes in home security to send out a couple of guys to keep an eye on the house. So far, there hasn’t been anything else from the stalker, but I’m taking that with a grain of salt. That’s not what I need to be focusing on right now, though. What I need to focus on is getting Emma to come out of the bathroom. “It’s really not a big deal,” I call through the door. “Actors do it all the time. It’s called ‘the relationship weekend.’ It doesn’t mean anything real, it just helps two people connect with each other well enough that they don’t look like novices when it comes time

to show some affection on camera.” “It’s weird,” she says. “It’s not like I’m telling you we’re going to fuck or anything,” I tell her. “All I’m saying is that this is going to work a lot better if, until midnight on Sunday night, you and I act in every way as if we’re in a relationship.” “What if someone sees us?” she asks. “Then the film gets some free publicity,” I tell her. “Now, are you going to come out of there, or am I going to be sending room service to the bathroom for the next three days?” Every once in a while, I forget that not everyone’s familiar with every trick in the business. It’s really not that big of a deal. If you get two actors together to practice kissing, you might see some progress, but it’s not going to change the way they look at each other. If you’ve never shared that intimate moment with someone, you’re never going to look at them the way that Emma and I are going to need to look at each other for much of the rest of the filming. The trick is simple: you and your costar, whoever it is that you’ve got the onscreen relationship with, you go away together for the weekend, somewhere that doesn’t like cameras where you can act as you will without the scrutiny of the press. While you’re there, for all intents and purposes, you are in that relationship with that other person. Easy-peasy. The problem is that Emma doesn’t really seem to like the idea of pretending to be my girlfriend. At least that’s what I’m taking out of this.

“You’re seriously on the verge of hurting my feelings here,” I call through the door. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings,” she says. “I just don’t think I can do three days of kissing and holding hands and ordering each other’s food and all that.” “Is there any way we can talk about this in the same room?” I ask. The door to the bathroom opens and Emma walks out slowly, saying, “I’m sorry. I don’t really know why I did that.” “It’s probably got something to do with that crush you’ve got on me,” I tell her. “Anyway, so are we doing this or what?” “So there’s no, like, safe zone?” she asks. “What do you mean?” I return. “You know,” she says, “somewhere we can go or something we can say to go back to reality.” “It’s acting,” I tell her. “As it’s your profession, I’m a little surprised to see you so wary of it.” “It’s not that,” she says. “It’s just—” “What?” I ask. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship,” she says, “even a fake one.” “You’ll fall right back into it no problem,” I tell her. “So, are we putting on our actor’s hats or are we going to keep going back and forth on this until the weekend’s over and we’re out of time?” “Actor’s hats?” she asks. “I was trying to speak your language,” I answer.

I’m actually not entirely sure what that means. “So, Damian,” she says with a bit of a blush. “Yeah?” I answer. “You wanted to just start, right?” she asks, already breaking character. “Yeah,” I tell her. “Okay,” she says, “sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “So, where would you like to go to dinner tonight, dear?” she asks. “Just for the record, we’re not an old couple,” I tell her. “You can talk to me the way you normally would, just pretend that you like me a little more than you do and we’re good.” She shoots me a quick glare, but shakes it off. “Ah…” she says, shaking out her arms and hands, her eyes closed. Her fingers close into her palm and she opens her eyes, saying, “You hungry?” “A little bit,” I answer. “I could probably eat. What are you in the mood for?” “You always do that,” she says. “You always put the decision on me, but if it’s not exactly what you want, you just—” “Emma?” I interrupt. “Yeah?” she asks. “We’re not a dysfunctional couple, either,” I tell her. “We’re just two people getting to know each other in this new way.” “I still don’t get why we’ve got to spend so much time making out,” she says.

“Really, that makes me feel very good about myself,” I laugh. “I feel very attractive right now.” “It’s not that,” she says. “I just have a hard time believing that we’re really going to make all of this progress over the next few days and that it’s actually going to stick.” “Well, we’re obviously going to have a few make out sessions in my trailer when we get back in town,” I tell her. She sighs. “All right,” she says. “If this is what I have to do for my art, then I’ll do it.” “That’s the spirit,” I tell her. “Now, undo your top button.” “What?” she screeches. “So far,” I tell her, “you’re not even convincing me that we’re in a relationship and I’m pretending right along with you.” “How does that translate into me showing more skin?” she asks. “Glad you asked,” I tell her. “Oh God, here it comes…” she groans. “When a man and a woman are going from being single to being in a relationship, there are a few things about not only their mannerisms, their mood, and general demeanor, but there are changes to the way they look as well,” I tell her. “Women will often show a little more skin around their new beau, while men tend to walk with their shoulders back, more confidence.” “Have you ever noticed how, in every possible situation where men and women have to do something, the men always have it easier?” she asks. “Yeah,” I answer. “I have, actually. Doesn’t really seem fair. Anyway, so I want you

to think back to the first couple of weeks with your last boyfriend. What changed?” “I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I spent a little more time on my hair.” “Great,” I tell her. “Get back in the bathroom and work on your hair a little longer.” “Excuse me?” she retorts, in a tone that tells me that I’ve crossed some line. “I’m telling you to do the things that you would normally do if we were actually in a new relationship,” I tell her. “There’s no reason to get all pissy about it.” If I’d avoided use of the word pissy, I probably could have gotten through that all right. As it stands, though, it takes me a good 20 minutes to talk her into listening to me again. “I’ll tell you what,” I tell her finally, “why don’t we take the next hour to go over things that we do ourselves at the beginning of a new relationship and see what we come up with. I, for one, start shaving twice a day rather than once, so I’m going to go in the bathroom and do that. If you need to get in there for your hair, I’m sure we can both fit.” She’s still skeptical, but eventually she agrees to go along with what I’m telling her to do. I haven’t told her about hump practice yet. We take some time to get ready the way we would if we were actually dating each other, and the results, while often subtle, are rather striking. I, for one, am very clean-shaven, wearing a semi-formal dinner outfit, cologne, and enough hair gel for either boy band membership or to choke a walrus, depending on whichever one of those options turns out to be funniest. Emma, along with her hair going from a ponytail to a stunning updo, is wearing a dress and extra jewelry. I actually didn’t realize her ears were pierced until just now. “Real quick,” she says as we both take care of finishing touches, “I think this is going

to work better if you pick me up.” “What do you mean?” I ask. “Like carry you over the threshold or something?” “No, I mean, if you come by the room to pick me up for our date tonight. Our characters don’t live together, and it’s not until the end of the movie that they’d be likely to share a hotel room together.” “Yeah, there is such a thing as going too method,” I tell her. “For one thing, we’re going to have to learn how to sleep together in only two nights, so I don’t think we’re going to want to get separate hotel rooms just yet. For another, we’re going to have to be pretty solid on all the visible aspects of the relationship the movie’s going to cover, so it wouldn’t make much sense to spend any time apart while we’re here.” “Just role-play,” she says. “Go out into the hallway, walk around for a couple of minutes, and knock on the door. It’ll help me get in the mindset.” “All right,” I agree. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” We stand there and look at each other a minute. “Yeah, so any time you’re ready to pop out there, that would be great,” she says. “Oh,” I answer. “All right, I’ll be back to pick you up in a few minutes.” “Okay,” she says, and walks me to the door. “Remember to give it a few minutes.” “All right,” I tell her, and I walk out the door. You know, this is a pretty good addition to the relationship weekend. In the future, I’m sure I’ll want to figure out something better than just walking around the halls a couple of minutes, but it’ll be good to cover the anticipation of getting picked up or picking someone up. I walk around the halls for a few minutes and, after knocking on the wrong door and

being held captive in conversation with the occupant of that room for what has to be a good 20 minutes, I make my way back to our hotel room door. I knock. There’s no answer. I knock again. There’s still no answer. I knock and call out Emma’s name, but there’s still nothing. Finally, I pull out my phone and punch in Emma’s number. Apparently, I’ve forgotten which room is ours, and I really don’t want to have to knock on every door in this hall to find the right one. “Hello?” “Hey,” I say, “I think I forgot which room we have.” “Were you just knocking?” she asks. “Yeah,” I tell her. “It’s the right room,” she says, “but I’ve had a little change of heart. I think that you and I need to have a little discussion about what we’re doing here, and this time, I think that I need to be the one to lead it.” “Oh, give me a break, will you?” I beg. “First thing,” she says, “I’ll kiss you because we’re going to be kissing onscreen, but we’re not going to spend three hours a night and—how did you describe it? Dozens of little interludes between now and when Dutch calls action?” “I get that this makes you uncomfortable,” I respond, “but I really think it’s best if we stick to the plan.”

“Do you know where intimacy comes from?” she asks. “It—” “Intimacy comes from feeling safe with a person, feeling a sense of security and trust. Knowing that this person, the person that you’re with, isn’t going to judge you if you’ve made a mistake, they’re going to help you pick yourself up. Intimacy comes from two people who feel such affection for one another that there is no part of themselves that they are unwilling to share with each other. Call me crazy, but I don’t think we’re going to be covering intimacy in a weekend, but we’re going to try,” she says. “What do you have in mind, then?” I ask. “First off,” she says, “we’re not staying in the same room. Call me back after you’ve booked another room for yourself.” “Emma, you’ve got to see how unreasonable all this is,” I tell her. “There are lot of things we’re going to have to cover, and we really don’t have time to go over the things we’re not even going to need to—” “You know what the problem is with your movies, at least the romantic ones?” she asks. “What’s that?” I return. This should be fun. “Whenever you’re with your onscreen significant other, you just come off as fuck buddies,” she says. “There’s nothing beyond the physical, though I will give you credit for making that pretty damn on the money. Why don’t we try things a little differently this time?” she asks. “Why don’t we branch out a little and see if we can bring something new to the screen?” “You keep saying ‘we,’ but I’m getting the feeling you really mean me,” I answer.

“Good, you’re catching on,” she says. “Now here’s how the night is going to go…” She goes on to describe just about the opposite of everything I had planned for this weekend with the exception of having dinner together nightly. So that much, it seems, we agree on. “I don’t know,” I tell her. “My method has worked for me on almost a dozen films.” “Yeah,” she says, “it’s worked well enough to get you passed over time and time again for more serious roles. Ever wonder why people don’t take you seriously enough to offer you those period characters or the troubled geniuses that win all the awards? Maybe it’s because anytime anything serious comes along, you make a joke out of it and just go with your instincts.” That’s a little close to home. “Look, I get that you’re trying to do the whole overhaul the Hollywood bad boy thing,” I tell her, “but just because you’ve got some fairy tale wet dream going on in your head doesn’t mean that it’s got anything to do with reality, much less with acting.” That may have been a bit harsh. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she says, and she hangs up. Well, that could have gone better. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here anymore. I don’t even know why I thought it was going to be a good idea in the first place. Dutch suggested it, sure, but I’m the one that filled in the details. This kind of thing can make an onscreen performance sizzle, but whatever’s going on here, it’s personal, and because it’s personal, we’re both fighting it in our own special way. Why’s it personal, though?

I’ve been here, to this very hotel, for this very purpose, at least five times and I’ve never had so much fucking hassle right from the start. Come to think of it, the whole blackmail thing’s probably got her pretty freaked out. I pull the phone out of my pocket and dial the number. “I don’t really want to talk right now,” Emma answers. “I’ll see you at dinner.” “It’s been 72 hours, hasn’t it?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says. She’s crying. “What did you do?” I ask. “I wrote him a check,” she says. “What do you think I did? He sent me texts with the pictures. He’s definitely got them.” “Wanna talk about it?” I ask. She sniffs and takes a deep breath. “If there’s any way we could get through this weekend without mentioning it again, I would be very happy,” she says. “Okay,” I respond. “Do you want to come out and maybe just talk?” I’m halfway down the hall, but in the distance, I can hear a door unlatch and Emma opens up, her hair still pristine, though her mascara’s running. “Yeah,” she says into the phone, and hangs up. Tofu. My stalker carved tofu, covered it in raspberry sauce, and left it in a black garbage can on my gated driveway. Right now, everything’s complicated and everything’s absurd. Out there somewhere is a woman who thought the way into my heart was a way-too-

familiar letter and that 30-pound bag. Right in front of me is a soon-to-be-A-list, not to mention gorgeous actress with perfect hair and the saddest eyes. In that doorway is a woman who’s in one of the more ridiculous situations the world can throw at a person, just trying to find a way to focus on the job that’s going to make or break her career. Maybe it’s time I throw her a rope. I walk toward the room, but Emma shakes her head. “We’re just going to dinner a little early,” she says. “That’s all. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Maybe I should tell her about Jamie. That really couldn’t serve a purpose here, though. The way that Emma described intimacy, I mean, it wouldn’t be out of line, I don’t think, but then again, how could it possibly be relevant? I guess if the only point is to be vulnerable, that’s the story to tell, but I don’t think that intimacy, especially fake intimacy, demands complete vulnerability. At the end of the day, two people are still two people, right? The door opens and Emma walks out, saying, “I realized that without you knowing when I was going to be ready to go, it didn’t make much sense for you to come to the door. Either you’d be early, in which case making you wait at all becomes a useless exercise, or you’re late, and I’m stuck waiting there when you’re right on the other side of the door. All of that being the case,” she says, “I am ready to go to dinner.” With all the uncertainty, the awkwardness, and the general reign of miscommunication, yeah: this is starting to feel like a relationship.

Chapter Seven Backyard Carnivals Emma Dinner last night was all right, but we were both still very much in ourselves. What was better was brunch this morning. That’s when I really got Damian to stop being the cardboard cutout of himself and start actually being himself. He seemed pretty uncomfortable doing it. Right now, I’m standing in the locker room of the hotel spa. Damian and I are getting a couple’s massage. I don’t know exactly how far down to strip in these places. I’ve always heard that the general rule is that you don’t need anything but the towel, but having never actually been to a spa, it feels a little weird. Just to be on the safe side, I leave my bra and panties on before I wrap the towel around my body and make my way to the next room. Damian is already facedown on one of two massage tables. He turns his head far enough to glance at me, and then puts his face back in the little hole. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands are moving down his body, and—yep, he’s mooning me. Well, I guess that answers the question I had in the locker room. “Will you put that away?” I ask, pretending like I’m not sneaking a peek when in

reality, I’m a little turned on by getting such an up close and personal look at such a famous, and if I may, well-formed, ass. “This is exactly the kind of thing I would be doing to you if we were in a new relationship,” he says. “We’re still doing new relationship, right? When do we move on to the petting and necking portion of the weekend?” he asks, and then makes some kind of noise that I can only equate to a cat growling. “We’re moving from new to established relationship,” I tell him, “and there’s not going to be a petting portion of the weekend. We will be practicing our kissing, but only after you prove to me that you can handle it like an adult.” “But Mom,” the still bare-assed, world-renowned actor whines through the hole in his massage table. I approach the side of my table and just stand there for a moment. Apparently, I don’t need the underwear, but I’m not so sure about dropping my panties when Damian can see through his hole. I’m really not a prude, I swear. This is a unique situation. I finally decide to go back to the locker room, but of course, that’s when the masseurs come in the room. “Everything okay?” the short one with the bald head asks. “Did you forget something?” the taller one with the hideous man bun asks. “I just need to go back for something,” I stammer. “We can have someone bring it in here to you,” Man Bun says. “Please, lie down,” Bald Guy says in a soothing, almost cult-inspiring voice. “Really, I should grab it myself,” I tell them. Now, even if I succeed in leaving the

room unescorted, I’m going to have to pick something I brought with me to be that thing I couldn’t possibly get massaged without. This is some killer planning. “I’ll just be a second,” I tell them. Bald Guy shrugs and Man Bun is rubbing his hands together over Damian’s back. You know, from this angle, massage is the strangest thing… I get into the locker room, drop my towel long enough to completely disrobe, unintentionally flash an older woman who’s coming out of the showers in what looks like a nightgown with legs, and feel through my pants for something, anything I can take back in there with me to explain why, oh why, I would delay the healing powers of massage, but all I have are my keys and my room key. Everything else, even my cell phone, is back in the room. Room key it is. I go back into the other room and set the room key under the hole in my table so I can look down at a constant reminder about how I wasn’t quick enough on my feet. Finally bare—with the exception of the towel—I lie down on the massage table and scootch into position. This is actually pretty nice. “Everything come out all right?” Damian asks. “What?” I respond. “Never mind,” he laughs. “So,” he says, “tell me more about what it is to be intimate with someone.” “Well,” I start. I start, but I don’t continue. Last night, I was basically listing off qualities that were opposite to my experience

with Ben. Now, I don’t know, I guess I really don’t know what intimacy is. “It’s not something you are,” I tell him, “it’s something you find in the other person.” “That tells me absolutely nothing,” he says. “Come on, you were so spirited about it last night. What’s next? What is it that we’re really looking for here?” “Tell me a story,” I tell him, “something real, you know, something that’s happened in your life.” “Like what?” he asks. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “What is your best memory of your childhood?” “That’s boring,” he says. “Ask me something harder, something closer.” Something harder, something closer. “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?” I ask. “Maybe something a little softer,” he says, “at least for now.” “Fine,” I say. “Have you ever been in love?” “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been in love a bunch of times. It’s never really the same, though. Everyone talks like love is one set emotion that everyone experiences the same way, every time,” he says. “For me, love is when you don’t know what to expect, but that’s not a bad thing. I guess if there is one single thing I can tie to my experience with love, it’s being able to let go of all my shit and just be Damian Jones without all the actor shit even coming into it. Being able to do that and not have a nervous breakdown is a pretty good indication that I’m in love.” “So being able to give up control of your image is what tells you that you’re in love?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? What is it that lets you know that you don’t just like a person,

you love them?” “I don’t know,” I start. “It’s hard to describe. I think love is simple. It’s just that perpetual wish to be around a person. Love is what happens when you only care if one person takes you seriously. Everyone else just doesn’t matter quite so much.” The room’s quiet a moment except the sounds of hands moving over oiled-up celebrity. “That was very nice,” Man Bun says. “Thank you,” I answer. “The last time I knew I was in love—probably the only time I really knew was with my high school sweetheart, Jamie,” Damien says. “With her, it wasn’t just the swirl of emotions, but a full-blown tempest all the time.” “What happened?” I ask. “What do you mean?” he answers. It’s a stall, and a pathetic one at that. “She got pregnant,” he says. “We were going to have a little baby girl. We’d even started picking out names for her and everything. When Jamie went into labor, though,” he sighs, “there were complications. Neither she, nor the baby, survived.” I’m trying to do the right thing and brush my first thought aside, so I give the quick response. “I’m sorry.” “Yeah,” he says, “me, too.” There’s something almost sadistic in having this talk while getting a massage. It’s not an unwritten rule as far as I know, but it just doesn’t feel right for anything pleasant to be happening right now. “When did this happen?” I ask, that question being the first thing that popped in my mind.

“Are you asking me when it happened or are you asking me how it is that you never heard about it?” he asks. “Both, I guess,” I respond, though I’m more interested in the second answer. “It happened when I was about 20,” he says. “That would be, what? Nine years ago? Anyway, the reason you never heard about it is that you’re forgetting I was just a normal guy for quite a while there.” “Yeah, but you were on that show when you were a kid,” I tell him. “Child stars who never worked again wouldn’t be able to keep something like that out of the public eye. I guess I’m just curious how you did.” “We weren’t engaged or anything,” he says. “When Jamie died, I wasn’t the next of kin. The paperwork that was going to have my name on it was going to be the birth certificate. When there was no more need for that,” he says, “there just wasn’t anywhere else for my name to go. Her dad took possession of her remains, told me he didn’t want me anywhere near the funeral or his family, and that was the last I saw of any of them. The bastard even filed the baby’s death certificate without my name.” “Why was her dad so pissed at you?” I ask. “It doesn’t sound like it was your fault.” “It wasn’t,” he says, “but that didn’t change the fact that his daughter was dead, and if it weren’t for me, she’d be alive.” “Okay, now that sounds like it is your fault,” I say. “If she weren’t pregnant,” he says, “she wouldn’t have died in labor. I didn’t have anything to do with the blood clot that ended up killing her, but her body wouldn’t have been under that stress if it weren’t carrying a baby. She probably would have been fine if we’d never gotten pregnant.” “It sounds like you blame yourself,” I tell him.

I can hear the sound of Damian moving, and I lift my head to look at him. He’s looking back at me with a completely helpless expression on his face. That expression—it may not be what we’re looking for on film, but it’s certainly intimate. A person doesn’t have to be completely vulnerable to build, maintain, and experience intimacy, but it doesn’t hurt when vulnerability is there. “I’m not kissing you this weekend,” I tell him, and put my head back down. “What?” he asks. “What are you talking about? We’ve got our first kiss scene this next week. We go in there cold and I’d hate to see what we look like. Seriously, you need to screen test that shit. What feels good isn’t always what looks good.” “We’ll kiss onscreen because that’s what’s in the script,” I tell him, “but there aren’t going to be any extracurricular activities. I just thought I should let you know that before too much time passed.” “Raymond,” Damian says, “you’ve got the hands of a master.” “Thank you, sir,” the man Damian called Raymond (even though we all know his real name is Man Bun) says. “Is that going to be all for you this afternoon?” “Yeah,” Damian says. “That’ll be all for now.” I look up at Bald Guy, but he seems less engaged in the world outside his massage performance. As I’m trying to get up, he just presses back against me as if it’s all part of the massage. It actually feels pretty cool, but that’s not the point. “I’m sorry,” I say to Bald Guy, looking for a name tag but not finding one, “I have to follow him.” “Your massage isn’t finished,” Bald Guy protests. “I know,” I tell him. “I’m very sorry about that, but I’ve got to go after him.”

Bald guy scoffs loudly and throws his hands up in the air. It’s a pretty petulant scene, but it does allow me to get to my feet and hurry back into the locker room. I’m quick to get dressed, but when I get out to the waiting room, Damian’s not there. “Excuse me,” I say, walking up to the counter, “has my friend, Damian, come out yet?” “Yes, ma’am,” the woman behind the counter says. “He walked through about a minute ago.” Stupid tangled bra strap. I finally track Damian down as he’s walking back toward his room. “Where are you going?” I ask. “I thought we were doing the massage and then we were going to go down by the beach.” “Yeah, I’m really not in the mood right now,” he says. “I’m sorry I brought all that up,” I tell him. “I was just trying to get to know you better.” “I know,” he says. “It’s fine. It’s just that, earlier, when you asked what the worst thing to ever happen to me was. It was that. Nobody knows because nothing between her and I was ever official, at least as far as public records were concerned. Add to that a grieving father who’d much rather forget my existence completely and a staff of doctors that are bound by confidentiality and you have the perfect storm it takes to have something like this slip by everyone’s radar. I think it goes without saying that I’d prefer you not talk about this with—” “Yeah,” I interrupt, “of course. It’s nobody’s business and it’s sure as hell not my business to tell anyone.” I may have gone a bit over the top there.

Damian eyes me and just says, “Yeah. Anyway, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to cancel our trip down to the beach. After that massage, I just kind of want to lay down for a bit.” “All right,” I tell him, “no worries.” He walks off, and I’m actually grateful I put my foot down about having separate rooms. The Damian Jones I knew from the glossy papers and TV gossip shows is one of those guys who’s always playing the field, rumored to have had dozens, if not hundreds, of sexual partners, though nobody seems to have any definite numbers. As much as Damian’s tried to dissuade me, though, I like him. It’s because I like him that I insisted on the separate rooms. It’s because I like him that I insisted we not kiss until we’re onscreen. I’m not a prude, I just don’t want to be another snapshot in the cavalcade of Damian’s skanks. I get back to my room and the next hour passes grudgingly. Ben got his first check. Despite assurances that I would never have to talk to him again, he still sent me a text to let me know when the check cleared. What an asshole. I’m so pissed off at everything right now. Every time an opportunity comes up, I end up having to pay for it 10 times over. Nothing is ever fucking easy and I’m sick of it. Five thousand dollars a month for the next 17 years: I did the math. That comes out to $1,020,000. I guess he just figured making it an even 17 years was easier than making it an even million dollars. I hope the money brings him nothing but fucking misery. Misery’s a hell of a thing, though. While Ben certainly deserves as much of it as he

can get, he’s probably never going to feel the bite of it. Meanwhile, Damian’s down in his room wallowing in misery and he’s done nothing wrong. I think it’s time to go nuclear. * * * It took a little time and a little planning, but after putting my mind to it, I’ve come up with the perfect plan. Step one: get Damian out of his room. This part is easy enough. I find a bellhop who’s not standing particularly close to any of his coworkers and tell him, “I’ll give you 200 bucks, 100 now, 100 afterward, if you’ll go to this room,” I hand the young man a sticky note with Damian’s room number written on it, “and tell the man inside he’ll have to vacate the room for a couple of hours. Say that you found spiders in the adjoining room—I remember reading an interview where he said that he hates spiders —” “Ma’am,” the bellhop says, “I appreciate the offer, but I should probably remind you the kind of clientele that comes through here. Two hundred bucks may be a lot to someone working a franchise in Who Gives a Shit, South Dakota, but I’m not risking my job for a shitty payday like that.” Okay, so 200 isn’t going to do it, but judging by the mouth on this little bastard, I’d say there’s some wiggle room.

“What would it take?” I ask. “You’re Emma Roxy, right?” he asks. Oh, this isn’t going to be good. “Yeah,” I answer. “I’ll do it for free,” he says. I did not expect that. “Why?” I ask. I could swear there’s something about a gift horse and looking it in its mouth that could be useful here, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the saying. “I saw you in Drathmore: Vengeance from Space a while back,” he says. “Just answer one question for me and I’ll go tell your dude whatever you want me to tell him.” “It’s always nice to meet a fan,” I tell him. “What’s your question?” “When you were playing Mistress Death Head, were you using some kind of tape or was it one of those push up bras or what was going on there?” he asks. “I’d seen you in something else, but I could swear your jugs were like double the size.” “Don’t they usually give bellhop jobs to well-spoken, well-mannered individuals?” I ask. “Lady, when you walked over here and tried to bribe me, I earned the privilege to pull my tongue out of your ass,” he says. “So come on, I’ve got money riding on this.” “You bet on the method of breast presentation in some low-budget, sci-fi flick?” I ask. “Funny you’re looking down your nose at it,” he says. “I guess now that you’re hot shit, you’re going to dismiss those earlier movies as just paying your dues or whatever.” “I don’t think I’m hot shit,” I tell him. “What did you bet it was?”

“I said they did the whole thing CGI,” he says. “There are a few shots there where your titties react to one motion or another in a way that I think violate the laws of physics.” I chuckle a little. “Really?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive and all, but I just don’t see those things being real.” “Is that what this is really about?” I ask. “Are you trying to get me to show you my breasts?” “Well,” he says, “now that you mention it, I don’t suppose I’d mind taking a look.” “Yeah?” I giggle. “Yeah,” he says. “So what’s up, are you down or what?” “Okay, first off, late 90s, junior high, stoner kid,” I start, “people don’t talk like that anymore. Yeah, you might get all of those phrases spread out over a few conversations, but never all together like that. When you talk like that, it makes you sound like a moron. Second off,” I continue, “why don’t I walk over to your manager and tell him about the little proposition you just made me?” I ask. “I’m sure they’d frown on the whole me trying to bribe you thing, but when you stack that up against sexual harassment of a guest in the hotel, do you really think I’m going to be the one to get the fucking whip?” Grudgingly though it may be, I can now start thinking about step two. While the dipshit bellhop’s getting Damian out of his room, I’ll be gathering the supplies I had room service bring up for me. Step two is accomplished when I’ve successfully made my way into Damian’s unoccupied room. Step three comes after about 15 minutes of double-checking my various ingredients

and matching them up with the proper instructions. I’m sitting on Damian’s bed with various household items with which one can prank one’s friends. I’ve got clear gelatin, plastic wrap, clear fishing line, shaving cream, 14 balloons of varying sizes, a pack of bottle rockets, thanks to my ability to hammer out something a little extra in my settlement with the bellhop, and a few other assorted items. Step three is completed when I’ve managed to set up at least five different pranks around Damian’s hotel room. I’m going somewhere with this. Trust me. Step four is cleaning everything up, double-checking to make sure none of the pranks are too readily visible to someone who doesn’t know they’re there, and packing my leftover items back into the plastic garbage sack I got from the bellhop. It’s what he was keeping the bottle rockets in. Step five is to dump everything back in my room and head back downstairs, where the bellhop should be waiting for my signal to allow Damian back into his room. Step six is the giving of the signal itself, and step seven is to head back to my room and wait for Damian to give me a call. From there, well, the rest is going to depend on Damian. I’m back in my room after a surprisingly smooth run of things. Damian should already be back in his, and I can’t imagine it’ll be much longer before my phone starts to —and there it goes. “Hello,” I answer. “You’re really going to have to do better than that,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “I found your little pranks,” he says. “If you’re going to try to come at me with that shit, you’re going to have to do a much better job of covering your work. By the way, thanks for making me dig the gelatin out of the toilet bowl. That never gets old.” “How many did you find?” I ask. “All of them,” he says. “How do you know?” I ask. “Because you suck at hiding them,” he says. “If someone figures it out beforehand, it’s not a very good prank. I hate to be so critical, but as your mentor and spiritual guide, I feel it’s my duty to…” He must be doing better; he’s gotten back to referring to himself as my mentor and spiritual guide and all sorts of other positively irritating nonsense that tells me there’s still a chance he comes through the rest of the day with a smile on his face. “…last time I had someone mess with my shower head,” he says, “they used this clear gel stuff that slowly made every drop of water on me harden into what looked like snot lines all over my body and in my hair—that was a hell of a prank. I didn’t see that one coming.” “Whatever,” I tell him, “so how many have you found?” “Five,” he says. Shit, he is good. What he doesn’t know is that I had a couple of extra minutes and so I managed to slip in a little something extra. I’m just waiting to find out what step eight is going to be.

“What made you do that?” he asks. “I thought it might help pull you out of your funk,” I tell him. I’ve dealt with tragedy before, though nothing quite as bleak as what Damian’s been through. What I’ve found is that sometimes it can seem impossible to pull one’s self out of that thought spiral, but snapping out of it can be as simple as having something introduced into the equation that you weren’t expecting. When I was a kid, my favorite grandmother died. After my parents told me, they gave me space when I needed space and comfort when I needed comfort. The problem was that as time went on, I wasn’t letting myself work through it. One day, though, after school I came home to find the house deserted, though I could hear a lot of strange noises coming from the backyard. When I got out there, my parents had set up a miniature carnival in the backyard complete with games, prizes, my parents dressed up as clowns, and all my friends sitting around a big table. What I came to realize as I grew up was that what my parents did hadn’t worked because having fun and a bit of a distraction made me forget my grandma or miss her any less. It simply gave my mind permission to switch into a different gear. I still had a lot of rough days and nights for a while, but after that carnival in the backyard, things started turning a corner. Again, though, Damian’s tragedy is a bit of a different situation and I don’t have any illusions that I’ve cured him of his grief. At best, I’m just hoping that I can get him through the weekend without having him retreat back into his room for the rest of our stay. We’ve got shit to do. The rest of the weekend is pretty quiet, though it’s filled with plenty of conversation.

The best part comes at around 4 o’clock Sunday morning when I get a call from Damian telling me that he found my last trap the hard way. I’m just surprised it took him that long to go for the Icy Hot-filled lotion bottle in his bathroom. One thing you can set your watch by is a man’s need to relieve backed up pressure, and in lieu of a sexual partner, you’ll find that particular kind of relief generally comes in a fairly predictable way. Did we accomplish everything we set out to accomplish after Dutch told us both to get away and practice our ability to be attractive together? Probably not. What we did accomplish, though, was to start building the foundation of actual intimacy that isn’t just going to go away when the cameras stop rolling. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I’m just happy enough to say that this is the weekend that Damian and I have become friends.

Chapter Eight Reshuffling Damian “You’re not going to believe this,” Danna says when I come through the door. Before I have a chance to ask her what she’s talking about or ask her if she would kindly shut up for a while until I’ve had some time to decompress from the mini-vacation, I see what she rightfully thinks I won’t believe. “Where did all this come from?” I ask. “Guess who,” she says. “Ah, Rita,” I laugh, “my own personal deranged fan.” “Do you actually know what you’re looking at?” Danna asks. “It’s really pretty impressive when you read the note and figure out what all of this is.” She bends down and picks up a folded piece of paper from the corner of my coffee table and hands it over to me. The note reads: “Dami, How quick we are to forget one another. From the moment we’re born, we start to die.

Every day, we’re a little bit closer to reaching that final end, and I don’t know how many more of those days I can wait to be at your side. I know that sometimes people don’t understand me, but I think you would. I think you already do. Sweet Dami, I want to show you the ways I’ve grown and died every day since I’ve known you. —known you. —known you. I want to show you the ways I’ve grown and died every day since I first saw you, so I’ve decided to share a piece of me that you started planting that very first moment my eyes caught yours. I’d never seen someone with such kind, caring eyes and such incredible mental agility that you had when you saved the world as Burke Howard, and in that moment, I knew that every part of me that falls away should be yours to do with as you please. Yours forever and ever and ever and ever, Rita” “Burke Howard,” Danna says, “that was Casting Shadows, wasn’t it?” “Immediate Dream,” I correct her. “Casting Shadows was the down-and-out pitcher who’d gotten in trouble with the league one too many times, only to turn everything around in just under 90 minutes and get everyone to love him again.” “Right,” Danna says. “You know, you’ve been making some pretty shitty movies recently.” “I took a break,” I tell her. “Yeah, but Flashing Lights isn’t going to be the artistic comeback that would justify taking so many crap roles,” she says. “You said there was something impressive about the letter,” I redirect. “What was it?”

“It’s not just the letter,” she says, “check the dates on these.” In the front room of my house and extending into the living room are dozens and dozens of pots, some with live flowers, some with dead flowers, and some with only soil. I bend down and look where Danna’s pointing. “June 5, 2013,” I say aloud. “Now the next one,” she says. I move over and read the date off the next flower pot, “June 6, 2013.” “Each one of these was planted every day, one after the other for a year,” Danna says. “The newest one—it’s over there by the door—is from three days ago.” “Where was all of this?” I ask. “On the sidewalk out front,” Danna answers. “I was going to ask why the security guys didn’t do anything, but if she wasn’t on the property—” “No, they would have seen her,” Danna interrupts. “They should have seen her, anyway. It must have taken a long time to set all of these pots out in chronological order by planting date, but nobody saw anything, neighbors, no one.” “What about the security tapes?” I ask. “Doesn’t cover where she was outside the fence,” Danna says. “I called the cops and they came by and everything, so it’s all taken care of. I guess the only thing we’ve got to do now is hope they catch her while we figure out what to do with all of these flowers.” “You’d almost think something like this would be good in a movie,” I tell her. “Yeah,” she scoffs. “You’d have the crew cursing your name every time one of the plants dies out of order, though. How was the weekend?”

“It was okay, I guess,” I tell her. “It didn’t really go off the way it usually does.” “No sex in the hot tub of the presidential suite this time, huh?” she asks. “Oh, that only happened the one time,” I protest. “No, I don’t know, I’m starting to think that maybe she and I could actually be friends. You know, she told me she got her first movie role after winning a contest in the newspaper.” “Really?” Danna asks without inflection. “Yeah,” I tell her, undaunted by her grumpiness, “the role was to be an extra in some low-budget kids movie, but the director liked her look and bumped her into a speaking role. That’s how she got her start.” “It’s nice to hear that not everyone goes for the blood pacts and the soul-selling in order to get their foot in the door like you did,” Danna says. “By the way, I’ve got a thing for the two of you next week if you can. It’s a new show on prime time—” “I don’t want to be doing so many interviews and drop-ins while I’m working on a movie,” I remind Danna. “Seriously, it divides my focus and I don’t have the time for it.” “I can get you out of it,” Danna says, “but I think they’re going to insist on your costar.” “Why would they want her and not me?” I ask. “Hey, now you’re starting to sound like my client again,” Danna says. “Oh, and Penelope called. She said that she’d love to see you this weekend if you’ve got the time. If not, she says she understands, but I kind of got the feeling something was going on there.” “Any idea what kind of something?” I ask. “She didn’t say,” Danna answers. “If you ask me, it’s probably something to do with that asshole she’s married to.”

“How are you feeling?” I ask. “Nice try,” Danna answers. She hates the question. The few times I’ve gotten her to answer it for me have been when I’ve slipped it haphazardly into the middle of a conversation. As you can see, though, it doesn’t always work. “You look good,” I tell her. “You’ve got some color to your cheeks.” “Will you stop?” she asks. “You know I hate it when you do that.” “What are little brothers for?” I ask. “It’s our job to torment our older sisters.” “Any chance there’s any leeway for the fact that I’m less than five minutes older than you?” she asks. “Not really,” I tell her. “Anything else going on?” “Yeah,” she says, “there’s been a woman standing at the buzzer to the gate acting like she’s not sure whether or not she should press the button.” I flip around and look out the window. I can’t tell too much about the woman, as I’m looking at her through a gate and from a distance, but Danna was right. I was hoping it was just a jogger who needed a break to tie a shoe or something like that, but the woman is definitely here for one of us, and Danna’s not the breadwinner of this particular house. “What should I do?” Danna asks. “Just stay inside,” I tell her as I pull the phone out of my pocket, “and if things start getting crazy, call the police.” I hand the phone to Danna and, although she tries to stop me, I manage to work my way free of her grip, and I walk out the front door.

There’s got to be something I can do to increase visibility from the front door to the mailbox. “Excuse me!” I call out to the person staring at the buzzer. I’m expecting the woman to run or go for some kind of weapon, but she just turns and walks up to the fence. “Damian, I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go,” Penelope, Jamie’s mother, says. “Shit, it’s you!” I exclaim. “Hold on a second and I’ll let you in.” I make my way to my side of the gate and type in my code on the little keypad to open it. The gate slowly grinds over the concrete as it opens. I should really get that thing fixed: it’s missing a wheel. “What brings you here today, Penelope?” I ask. “I didn’t miss your call, did I?” “I wasn’t sure if I was going to hit the buzzer,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you.” “What’s going on?” I ask, as she comes through the gate and we embrace on the other side. “It’s Ed,” she says. “He’s had another heart attack and the doctors are starting to act like he might not be coming back from the hospital this time.” “That’s terrible,” I respond. Ed. Fucking Ed. Ed is Jamie’s father, and there wasn’t a moment since I met the guy where he could find it in himself to tolerate my existence.

When Jamie and I first started dating, Ed would refer to me as “that guy you’re slumming it with,” despite the fact that my family was just as well off as his. I think Ed was one of those fathers who would rather his child had never left home. “How are you holding up?” I ask. “About as you’d expect,” she says. “Damian, I’m devastated, but what makes me feel even worse is the knowledge that you and he still have all these terrible feelings toward one another. I was hesitating at the buzzer because I didn’t know if you would be ready to hear what I have to ask you.” “What’s that?” I ask. In the distance I can hear sirens. “Shit, Danna called the cops because we thought you were…” Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to tell that particular story right now. “We thought you were someone else,” I tell her. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll get everything straightened out.” Penelope follows me into the house, and as soon as Danna sees her, she drops my cell phone and rushes over to give Penelope a hug. “Could you do a favor for me and tell the police that we won’t be requiring their assistance?” I ask my sister as she compresses Penelope’s internal organs. “Right,” Danna says. “Sorry about that. We thought you were someone else.” “Yeah, Damian told me,” Penelope says, looking somewhat disoriented. “Ed’s in the hospital,” I tell Danna. “Oh no!” Danna says. “What’s going on?” After we convince the cops that nothing’s actually wrong, Penelope fills Danna in with what she’s already told me. “After his last bypass, the doctor told us that Ed’s heart

may not be strong enough to handle another attack, so they put us on the organ donor list, but it was never an immediate thing until yesterday when it happened,” Penelope says. “This happened yesterday?” I ask, as Danna picks up the phone and explains the situation to the operator on the other end of the line. “Yeah,” Penelope says. “I would have called or stopped by earlier, but I’ve been trying to stay real close with Ed since his collapse.” “No worries,” I tell her, “but do you really think Ed is going to want to see me?” “Of course,” Penelope says, “he’d love to see you, only…” “Only he still blames me for Jamie?” I ask. “I’m sure that if you come by the hospital, the two of you can work it out. Damian, I wouldn’t ask, but he has so little time left, and I know he doesn’t want to see his life end with any grudges still intact,” Penelope says. “I get that,” I tell her, “and I think you’re doing a wonderful thing. I just don’t know if he’s really ready to let go of what he thinks happened.” “Has he said anything about Damian?” Danna asks. Danna and Ed met on a few different occasions, but never seemed to develop an opinion of each other until after Jamie’s death. Once that happened, Ed blamed me, so he hated Danna. Danna is my sister and a decent person, so she thought the way Ed was treating me was unfair, so she started to hate him. Around and around it goes. “You know Ed,” Penelope says. “He’s never going to admit that he’s made a mistake until there’s no other option but for him to do it. Please,” she says, “he may only have a few days left if they can’t find a new heart for him.”

“I don’t know,” I tell her. Danna says, “I think the least you could do would be to head over to that hospital and try to make amends.” “That’s the problem,” I tell her. “He’s going to want me to admit that it’s my fault she’s dead, and as far as I’m concerned—sorry, Penelope—he can screw himself. I’m not going to have him drag me through hell just so he can feel a little better about things.” “Damian!” Danna scolds. “The man’s in the hospital. I don’t really care what you think he is or isn’t going to do. The decent thing is to go in there and pay him a visit.” “I’ll try,” I say, turning to Penelope. “I’m slammed with work, though.” “Yeah, you just got off a vacation,” Danna scoffs. “Yeah,” I say, frustrated, “I just got off a vacation. I have to head by the studio in about an hour, so it might have to wait until tomorrow.” “You’ll go?” Penelope asks. I sigh. Penelope was always a bit quieter than her husband, but what she lacked in communication skills, she more than made up for by being one of the sweetest women on the planet. When Jamie and I told her parents that she was pregnant, Penelope jumped out of her seat cheering. She was so involved with everything. To tell you the truth, I was actually kind of starting to get sick of her: she was around to provide Jamie with guidance so often. After Jamie died, Ed declared that neither him nor anyone else in his family would ever speak to me again for what I did. That night, though, I got a late phone call from Penelope, letting me know that as long as she had breath in her body, we were family.

There are a lot of things that I would do for Penelope, almost anything, but going in there to take Ed’s abuse and blame over the death of his daughter, who I happened to love more than anything, isn’t really my idea of a way to spend an afternoon. Still, it’s for Penelope. “Yeah,” I tell her, “I’ll go in tomorrow.” “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she says and comes over, giving me a long hug. “You’re not going to regret this,” she says. “I promise. Visiting hours are between 10 and 6. If you let me know when you’re coming by, I can meet you out front and we can go up to the room together.” “That should work,” I tell her. “I should be getting back,” Penelope says. “Danna, I hope you know that you’re more than welcome, yourself.” That’s not going to happen. While Danna was quick enough to tell me that I needed to go and look for some kind of détente, there’s no way she’d ever go into that hospital room herself. She tends to take grudges even more seriously than I do. “Thanks for the offer,” Danna says, “but I’ve been having a bit of trouble getting around recently, and I wouldn’t want to slow everyone down.” “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that you’re not doing well,” Penelope says, “but if you can, I still think it would be great if you could both make it before…before…” I was really hoping we could get through this without seeing Penelope cry. Since Jamie’s death, every time I’ve seen Penelope cry, it just takes me back to that hospital room.

So now Penelope’s crying, and I’m doing my best to comfort her without crying myself. “She loved you, you know,” Penelope says. “You were the world to her.” “I loved her, too,” I tell Penelope. “So did I,” Danna says. Penelope wipes her eyes and releases me from her embrace, shifting her attention to Danna. “Yes, she did,” Penelope says. “She loved you both very much, and I’m so glad she had the two of you to brighten her life while she was here.” I do miss Jamie. I probably always will. I offer to give Penelope a ride back to the hospital, but she declines. “Thank you for the offer,” she says, “but I’ve got to go back to the house to pick up some stuff for Ed and then the kids are coming in, so I should probably just go.” “All right,” I tell her. We say our goodbyes and I promise again to go by the hospital tomorrow, though I’m looking for some way, any way, to get out of it. Penelope leaves and not long after that, it’s time for me to head back to the set. On my way out the door, my phone starts to ring. “This is Damian,” I answer. The line is quiet. I check the call, but it’s active. “Hello?” I try again. “Oh my God, it’s really you, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice asks. “Who’s this?” I ask.

“I can’t believe I actually got through,” the woman says. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.” It’s Rita: it’s got to be. “How did you get this number?” I ask. “I was thinking,” the woman I suspect to be Rita says, “you and I should plan a getaway together.” “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what it is that you want, but I need you to leave me and my family alone,” I tell her. “I’ve always wanted to see the Galapagos Islands,” the woman says. “When do you think we should go?” “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I tell her. “I know I can come on a little strong,” the woman says, “but that’s just because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” “If you’ve never felt this way about anyone, how do you know that you come on a little strong?” I ask her. While she’s thinking up a reply to the question, I continue, “I think that I’m far from your first obsession, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. What you need to realize is that what you’re feeling for me—it isn’t real. You’ve got to leave me alone.” “I expected this sort of thing from your sister,” the woman on the phone spits, “but I never thought that I’d have to convince you that dreams are worth chasing.” “This isn’t a dream,” I tell her. “You’re the architect of a nightmare.” “The architect of a nightmare…” she says. “I just love the way you talk!” “Who are you?” I ask.

“You’ll recognize me by the black dress and the silver choker,” she says. “Where?” I ask. It seems like one of those things that would be good to know. The line’s already dead. I grit my teeth and open my car door. Before getting in, I take a look around. I’ve got anything but a clear view, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone outside the perimeter of the property. Finally, I get in my car and just go. I don’t know how it is that people like Rita get to be so far gone without anyone noticing, but they do. A lot of times, people try to minimize the things their family and friends do—not that I can imagine Rita’s got a lot of friends. I’m sure if anyone who knows Rita knows of her obsession for me, they just think it’s an innocuous celebrity crush. I’m sure they’d be the first to declare their surprise if they found out what she was actually doing. Oh well, Trey’s waiting for me in the parking lot, so I should be safe enough for now. As for Danna, she knows how to get into the panic room if she needs to—not that Rita would ever make it through the front door with those guards we hired. I’m lost somewhere in my thoughts when Dutch walks up to me. “How was the trip?” he asks. “It was okay,” I tell him. “Are we about ready to shoot?” “Get to makeup and wardrobe,” he says. “We’re behind schedule.” “Oh, hey,” I tell him, “talk to me later when you’ve got a minute. I’ve got an idea for the film.” “Great,” Dutch says, smiling with only half his mouth. “I’ll see you on set.”

Dutch will usually listen to an idea, but unless it’s something that came directly out of his head or directly off of the pages of the script, he’s not likely to change any of his plans. So, I get to makeup and I get to wardrobe and I take a few minutes to make sure I’m solid on my lines. When I feel comfortable enough there, I find Emma. “Hey,” she says. “Today’s the big day, huh?” “What do you mean?” I ask. “Well,” she says, “it’s not every day you get to kiss on film with a Hollywood starlet.” She must be in a good mood. “Yeah,” I answer, “not every day. So, I had some last minute thoughts about how we should play the kiss—” “Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to do that,” she says. “Do what?” I ask. “If you think you’re going to be able to make it through this script without the two of us filming, you’re out of your mind.” “Not that,” she says. “I’m just saying that I think I can get through this scene without the guidance of Damian Jones.” I smile. “All right,” I tell her, “if you really think you can do this thing solo. I will remind you, though, that I have won all kinds of awards and people usually listen when I give them acting advice.” “That’s got to be hard on them,” she says, “listening to all that drivel and still having to act afterward.” “Oh, ha ha,” I mock. “Jones, Roxy, they’re ready for you,” one of the stagehands calls.

“You ready for this?” I ask. “We didn’t really prepare the way we were going to, so —” I’m interrupted by Emma’s mouth falling on my own. Her arms wrap around me, and she’s breathing heavy as her lips move over mine. The kiss lasts about 10 seconds, but every one of those moments is an entirely new feeling, a new rush of blood and endorphins, a new opportunity for me to completely forget everything else in existence. She pulls away, says, “Yep, I think I’m good,” and makes her way to the set. Holy shit. I normally wouldn’t even think this way, but I might have to throw the scene a few times just so I can feel that again. What was that?

Chapter Nine Ethanol and the Demands of the Theater Emma I think when I got to the set my first day there were a lot of people who were asking themselves and each other if I could really hack it in a major motion picture, but in the three weeks after Damian and I got that first onscreen kiss under our belts, people’s perspectives on me seem to have changed. Now it seems like all the people who would only ever roll eyes when I walked past are coming up to me for an autograph for their nephew or their cousin or for eBay—I appreciated Claude’s honesty on that one, but he did not receive an autographed headshot. Things are pretty good. Actually, things are going great right until my phone starts ringing and I see Ben’s number on the caller ID. “What do you want?” I ask. “You don’t have to greet me like that every time you pick up the phone,” he says. “I was just calling to let you know that something’s come up and I’m going to need you to double the amount of money per payment.” “Nope,” I tell him. “You and I had a deal. I was worried that you might try to do something like this, and I even told you that I wouldn’t let it happen.” “Yeah, whatever,” Ben says. “So I’m going to need $10,000 by midnight tonight, not

$5,000.” “Did you find more pictures or something?” I ask. “Because you’re trying to hold my feet closer to the fire, only you don’t have any more fuel for it.” “I never said that you’d still have to make as many payments,” Ben says, “I’m not asking for more money. I just wanted to inform you that it’s $10,000 now. Send me a message after you’ve deposited the money, and assuming that everything goes through all right, I’ll put in my password so you can have another month without anyone knowing what kind of a slut you are.” “Excuse me?” I ask. “I didn’t even want to take those pictures, and even if I did, that wouldn’t make me a slut. We were dating. It’s not like I was letting anyone who had a camera take a picture of me that day, only you after you whined and badgered me like a little girl who’s still trying to convince her parents to get her a pony.” That actually felt kind of good. “Say whatever you want,” Ben says, “but if $10,000 isn’t in my account before midnight, you can start thinking about how many people are going to be beating off to naked pics of you in the water.” The way he says it makes me gag a little. With any kind of notoriety, you always run the risk of someone taking a picture of you or a video and jerking off to it. That doesn’t really bother me so much, mostly because I don’t have to hear about it. Having Ben present that, though, has put an uneasy feeling in my gut. “Fine,” I tell him, “but we’re not going to do this again. I’ll give you twice the money in half the amount of time, but if you try something like this again, it’s not going to work out so well for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he says. “So, I should expect my money today?” “You’ll get your fucking money,” I tell him. “Just stop calling me.” He hangs up and I want to strangle someone. Right now, I don’t even think it matters who. This isn’t what I needed tonight. The thing about doing an onscreen sex scene, even one that doesn’t show any of the naughty bits, is that people have gotten so used to seeing sex being simulated in movies or in commercials, if you want a no nudity or partial nudity only sex scene to make any sort of impression, it needs to look good. There’s intimacy and there’s muscle memory. A kiss can be affected a lot more visually by intimacy than sex can. That’s not to say that intimacy doesn’t change the nature of a sexual encounter, it’s just not as visible on film. We wrapped for the day a few hours early, so Damian and I had talked about getting together tonight and doing a non-dress rehearsal of tomorrow’s scene. Now, though, I’m pissed off. I really need to start looking at the caller ID before I pick up a call, but to tell you the truth, even seeing that name on my phone probably would have put me somewhere about here. How the hell am I supposed to focus when I’m this irritated? The good news is, there’s an easy way to relax and it just so happens to relieve nervousness as well. It’s called alcohol, and I’ve got plenty of it at home. Now, I’m not a big drinker, but every once in a while, something comes up where I need a drink and I need about 20 of its friends to follow it. Just thinking about that chemical relief has me breathing a little easier.

I just hope nobody gets in my way, because with the mood I’m in, I don’t know that I’d be that quick to swerve. I get home and into my house, and I don’t even bother to close the door. I’m on a mission. Now, I’m thinking that three shots are probably the magic number. One or two may not be enough and four or five might be more than enough. I’m not looking to get plastered; I just need to chill the fuck out so I can be present for the awkward night that lies ahead. Still, this blueberry vodka tastes pretty good. I have a second shot and it tastes even better than the first. It’s not very often that I’ll have two shots right on top of each other, but there’s not a lot of time before Damian will be here, and I really don’t want to be slamming them back when he gets here. I take shot three and realize that because the vodka I’m drinking is flavored, it’s got a lower alcohol content. I suppose I could justify having just one more shot. Sure, the difference in alcohol content is only like five percent, but that adds up over three shots. By the time I’m pouring my fifth shot, I’ve dropped the charade and I’m just glad to be getting some relief from the insanity my life has been ever since Flashing Lights started filming. After shot number three, I look at the clock. It’s so funny. There are thousands of women out there who would completely lose their shit if they had a night of dry humping with Damian Jones ahead of them. Me, well I just made sure to wear an extra pair of panties to avoid chafing.

This really is a strange line of work when you think about it. Not only are we people who make a living pretending to be other people, the things we have to know and learn, the ways in which we have to go out of the box in order to get the best possible performance for a scene…we spend so much of our lives learning how to act and react to people and situations, but when that camera’s off, the only people that seem to know who we are want something from us, and the only situations we get into are either work-related or related to escaping the side effects of this career path. That said, the pay’s phenomenal and the perks are incredible. I’m sitting on my couch now and I’ve stopped counting shots. This is supposed to be my time. This is supposed to be the point in my life I look back at fondly, years from now, and delight in how magical it was to make my first major picture. Everything’s not so bad, I guess. I mean, I’m financially secure, I’m doing something that I love and I’ve even made friends with a famous actor. At the end of the day, it’s not a bad line of work. I hadn’t counted on the blackmail. I take another shot. You know, Damian’s pretty attractive. I’m halfway through an infomercial with a product that claims to remove the need for sharpening your knives permanently, when a voice speaks just behind me. “You know they just replace the knife if it ever actually does go dull.” I whip around to find Damian standing in my living room right behind my couch. “The door was open,” he says. “I thought you’d see me when I came to the doorway, but you looked like you were pretty engrossed in whatever it was that you’re watching.”

“I’m not watching it,” I tell him, and turn off the TV. “Are you ready?” he asks. If anything, I’m a little too ready. It could be the fact that we’ve been growing closer over these past weeks, or perhaps it’s that he’s a famous Hollywood actor I’ve had a crush on for years; it’s even possible that just having a handsome man standing in my home is enough to do it, regardless. But Damian Jones, actor extraordinaire and Hollywood’s eighth sexiest man, is looking pretty damn good tonight. “Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m good.” “Great,” he says. “Now, what I’ve done in the past is to start with some kissing, and kind of just take it from there. Obviously we’re not going to do anything, but if we’re going to get this down, there’s going to have to be some touching.” “Okay,” I tell him. “I’m ready.” “Would you like to get something to drink?” he asks. “We don’t have to go right into it.” I nod, take another shot, and set the bottle back on the end table. By “set the bottle back on the end table,” what I mean to say is that I drop the bottle and rush over to Damian, quite literally throwing myself at him. His arms enfold me and we kiss. My hands are already in his hair, and I’m ready for more. His taste is sweet, fresh. He must have brushed or popped a mint before he came. How thoughtful. Me, on the other hand, I probably taste like stale blueberry vodka, but that doesn’t

seem to slow our pace as Damian’s hands move over my body. My fingers come out of his hair and work their way down his back and just under the back of his shirt. His eyes come open a little, but they close just as quickly when I work my hands under his shirt and around to his strong, firm chest. “No nudity?” I ask. “Well, it’s really a judgment call, but it’s not absolutely necessary for—” I pull open the front of Damian’s shirt, sending buttons soaring in various directions. “I’ve had kind of a shitty day,” I tell him. “I think I could live with a little skin on skin.” My lips are back over his, and I’m tearing the rest of the fabric from Damian’s shoulders. He pulls back a moment, asking, “Are you all right? You seem kind of…ravenous.” “Just practicing for my role,” I tell him as I guide his hands to the bottom of my shirt and encourage him to lift. “I hear it’s a big one.” Damian laughs and kisses me, his hands lifting the shirt from my body and then moving around back to unhook my bra. “You sure you’re good with this?” he asks. “Oh, just shut up for once in your life, will you?” I ask. He shrugs and pulls my bra open. I grab one of the straps and quickly remove it from my arm, flicking my other wrist to get the bra the rest of the way off of me. “Should I be calling you Sophie?” he asks. “I think we can save that for the cameras,” I tell him, and start working on his belt.

“Whoa,” he says. “I thought you wanted a dry run.” I laugh a little. “That’s a good one,” I tell him. “You’re very clever with words, you know.” “I’m not sure where the line is right now,” he says. I stop what I’m doing and look up at him. “Where do you want it to be?” I ask. While he’s trying to muddle through his response, I’m back at the side of the night table, taking another shot of vodka. “You want some?” I ask. “I haven’t had any in a really long time,” I tell him. “I’d kind of forgotten how fun it can be.” “I don’t think we should be doing this while you’re drunk,” he says. “I’m not drunk,” I tell him. “I’ve got a solid buzz, but I’m still making my own decisions here.” He starts again, “Still, I don’t know if we should—” “Where do you want the line to be?” I ask him again. “There’s no wrong answer here tonight. Just tell me what you want and that’s how far we’ll go.” I hold the bottle out to him and he looks at it. Right now, I’m the devil and he’s Faust, only I don’t want his soul tonight. Right now, I just want his body. We can always go from there. Damian looks up at me and then back down at the bottle, which he grabs from me and he takes a long pull. “I fucking hate vodka,” he says. “Even blueberry?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, takes another shot, and with the bottle dangling from one of his hands, he leans down and kisses me. Until his touch returned to my body, I had actually forgotten that I’m topless. The contrast between the heat from his skin and the coolness of the room is quick enough to remind me, though, and I press the naked skin of my upper body against the naked skin of his. My hands go back to the front of his pants, and I find the strap of his belt, which I quickly remove. Taking a break to kiss his chest, I feel Damian’s package with the palm of my hand. Yeah, he’s on board. I’ve spent all this time with Damian doing my best to avoid something like this because I didn’t want to be one of his skanks, but having gotten to know him a little better, I’ve learned that he’s more than meets the tabloid. I unbutton Damian’s pants as he starts slipping mine from my hips. This is actually happening. The carpet is soft beneath my knees as I slide down between Damian’s legs and guide his erection through the opening at the front of his boxers. I kiss his tip a bit to savor the moment before taking him into my mouth. Above me, Damian grunts his satisfaction, and I’m just hoping the liquid courage doesn’t wear off. I can just see myself turning all bashful at just the wrong moment and ruining everything. Damian’s first few inches take up a lot of room in my mouth, and I look up at him looking down at me, smiling.

I slip my mouth back toward his tip and wrap my fingers around his shaft. Pulling back with my head a little further, I ask, “How’s that?” “That feels good,” he says. “Let’s move over to the couch, though,” he continues, “more comfortable over there.” He helps me off my knees and we’re all over each other on the way to the couch. I’m walking backward, kissing his lips, when my legs hit the arm of the couch and I tumble backward laughing. “You all right?” Damian chuckles. “Yeah,” I snicker. “I am a little cold here all alone, though.” He grins and moves to my side. Bending down, he kisses me on the lips while his right hand slips through my hair and over my shoulder, across my neck and between my breasts. Damian’s hand hesitates a moment as if he’s trying to decide where to go from here, but he decides fast enough, and his hand continues to travel over my stomach and down between my legs. As soon as that first finger is within a few inches of my center, I’m already moaning. My hips are moving, and I’m so wet that I’m starting to worry about the upholstery on this couch. His touch is white heat, and I’m melting into ecstasy. He fingers me a moment, just long enough to wet his digits before his hand goes on to explore my labia, making frequent stops on and around my clit. “I want to know how you taste,” he says as if he’s asking for permission, as if his dick in my mouth wasn’t already indication enough that I’m on board here. “I want a full report when you’re done,” I moan, and his mouth settles over one of my breasts, sucking my nipple into his mouth.

As he did with his hand, he works his way down my body with his mouth, kissing every bit of me on the way down. I open my legs a little farther to accommodate him, and I relish the feel of his hot breath against my cool skin. When his mouth arrives between my legs, he adjusts my lower body, his hands under my butt, until he’s in the perfect position, his tongue picking up where his fingers left off. “Oh fuck,” I gasp. “Eat that pussy.” He looks up at me, and with a somewhat disoriented smile, he asks, “Has this been you the whole time?” “What do you mean?” I ask. “I know you said that you’re not a prude, but the way you talk around me and the way that you act around me—” he starts. “You thought I was a prude anyway?” I ask. “I don’t blame you,” I tell him. “It’s rare anymore that I do something spontaneous.” “Is that what this is?” he asks. “Is this just a one-time, spontaneous thing?” “How many sex scenes do we have in the movie?” I ask him. “One,” he says. “Yeah, I think we’re probably going to have to make this a regular thing,” I tell him, and casually place my hand on the top of his head and ever so lightly, I push his head back down between my legs. I don’t mind listening to him talk, but right now, there are more useful things he could be doing with that mouth of his. “Has Dutch gone over the play-by-play with you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Damian says, between kisses. “Quick make out lead-in, shot of me on top, your breasts hidden either by my arm or by the bed covers, depending on which is going to end up looking better, shot of you on top from the shoulders up, quick shot of both of us from the side where we’ll see your nipples for no more than three seconds, but it’ll help to implant the scene of the two of us in the throes of—” “Yeah, you need to stop talking,” I tell him. “We’ve got a scene to rehearse for tomorrow, so let’s rehearse for it. After tomorrow, who knows?” So we’re supposed to start with a quick make out session and then move to missionary. Got it. First, though, I think I’m going to enjoy a few more minutes of Damian’s attentive tongue and mouth, his hands moving over my body, my fingers in his hair. It’s impossible to tell whether I’m this turned on because I spent years building up the image of Damian in my mind, never meeting him, but imagining a moment like this, or if it’s because it’s just been a while since I’ve been with someone the way I’m with Damian now, but it doesn’t matter. He kisses one side of my pussy, then the other, and then he takes my clit into his mouth for one explosive second before lifting his head and saying, “We should probably get to it, then.” It’s not the sexiest thing he could have said given the situation, but it’s enough to get me to my feet. I take one of Damian’s hands, and feeling an extra surge of energy and excitement, I lead him into my bedroom. “You know,” I tell him, “we could always make a sex tape. That would probably send Flashing Lights’ ticket sales through the roof.”

“Why don’t we just start with getting to know each other a little better and then, if one of our careers starts to flag, we can make that sex tape,” he says. I lie down on the bed and climb under the covers. “Did Dutch say how he wanted the scene to start?” I ask. The broad strokes are in the script, but Dutch has all the details worked out in his head. Yeah, it would have been nice if he’d filled me in on what he wanted me to do, but I guess telling Damian amounts to the same thing. “Why are you so ready to joke about making a sex tape when you’re so terrified of a couple of nude pictures getting out?” he asks. I’m hoping he’s not serious and we can just move on, but the look on his face tells me that it’s a real question. “One’s a choice, the other one’s not,” I tell him. “But you’d rather make this guy a millionaire than put him in jail and deal with the headlines?” he asks. “Can we not talk about that now?” I ask. He hit on something, though he doesn’t know it. There is a reason why I wouldn’t want those particular photos to come out, and it’s not entirely due to the fact that I’m naked in them. It’s not so much the absence of something that should be there as it is the presence of some things I’d rather not think about. “Yeah,” he says, “sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous.” Well, that’s going to be a well of self-confidence for a while to come. “So Dutch wanted us to start by making out,” I say. “Did he have any insights or was

that just a general thought?” “I think the making out was the general thought,” he says. “The rest, well, he put me in charge of the rest.” “I thought you said it was kiss, missionary, cowgirl, done,” I say. “I was just thinking out loud,” he says. To answer the question whether celebrities say the same corny shit to each other that the rest of the world does before, during, and after sex, yes, yes they do. “Come here,” I tell him, and he climbs onto the bed. “This is pretty fast,” Damian says. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “I think we’ve gotten to know each other enough for me to tell you that I’d really just like to stop answering questions and start familiarizing myself with what your cock feels like inside of me,” I tell him. That gets his attention. He’s moving over me, kissing me, and he’s saying, “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” “I guess I am,” I tell him, and he kisses me again. We’re both under the covers now, and he’s positioning himself between my legs and I can hardly breathe from the anticipation. In a moment, the world goes silent and he slides himself inside. I let out a long, pleasant sigh and I smile as I look up at him. He works himself into me a bit more and unconsciously, I’m pulling all the covers on the bed toward me. I put my hand at the back of his neck and pull him toward me, and I’m just marveling

that the difference between a night of acting rehearsal where we pretend like we’re having sex and actually having him inside of me seems to be an unspecified number of blueberry vodka shots. Apparently, that loosens me right up. “How do you feel?” I ask him while I play with the hair on the back of his head and he presses himself again and again into me. “Pretty good,” he says, and he takes a look down at our bodies writhing together. “Really good, actually.” I chortle a little. “Well, I’m glad you’re having a good time,” I tell him. “Maybe afterward we can have coffee cake and various other desserts over brandy and a cigar.” All right, I’m a little drunk. He laughs and we kiss, but I’m tired of being on the bottom so I wrap my legs and arms around him as tight as I can and roll as best I can with him inside me. It’s not the most graceful maneuver, but he gets the idea well enough. Looking down at him now, stretching my arms back to rest with my hands on his thighs, I don’t feel drunk. I feel like I’m dreaming. I work my hips over him, leaning back so his tip nudges my G-spot in regular rhythm, and I’m breathing it in; the scent of us. With the dominant position now, I close my eyes, riding him as that feeling begins to stir. “Keep doing that,” I tell Damian. “Don’t stop.” He doesn’t. I don’t, either. Sensuality grips me, and I lean forward, moving my hands from his legs to his chest and I flip my hips, grinding into him as my legs begin to shake.

“Oh…fuck…” I mutter, only a moment before I lose the capacity for coherent speech. My legs are going and I’m riding him harder and harder and I just keep coming harder and harder until it feels like it’s never going to end, and for the smallest moment, I get a little scared, and that’s when the foundation shatters. I roll over to the side of Damian and ask if he could just give me a minute. He says yes, and I can see the concern in his eyes. It’s not helping. This is stupid, oh God, this is so fucking stupid. It’s stupid, but I’m lying on my back with my forearms crossed over my face to hide the fact that I’m crying. “Can I get you anything?” Damian asks. “I’m fine,” I tell him, but quickly realize the mistake I’m about to make and change my mind. “Actually, could you possibly grab me a glass of water? I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I think I’m just a little lightheaded, that’s all.” I think I’m a little lightheaded? What the hell does that mean? Who has to think about it? It’s one of the more easily recognized health issues. “Sure thing,” Damian says, and I try not to laugh as he jogs, still completely erect, across and out of the room. I close my eyes and try to dry them with my hands. What the hell is going on with me? Yeah, the sex is incredible, but it’s not like I have this huge emotional attachment to the guy. Maybe it’s not even about him. Maybe they’re tears of joy at the relief I can still feel joy after everything Ben’s been doing. Whatever it is, it really needs to stop in a hurry because the tap in the other room just turned off and Damian is on his way back.

I dry my eyes as best I can and I sit up a little, leaning back against the headboard. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “I think I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “I probably just got a little overexcited, that’s all.” “Yeah,” he says, “you seemed to really be enjoying yourself there. I was glad to be a part of it.” “You’re a smug bastard, do you know that?” I ask. “I am well aware,” he says, and hands me my water. I take a drink and glance down, away from his eyes. “Looks like you’re down to half mast, huh?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “In here, there was plenty to keep me going, but the kitchen turned that right around.” “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who’s afraid of being naked in the kitchen,” I sigh. “I don’t think it’s a fear so much as it is a rational instinct,” he answers. “So, from what I’ve observed, there seem to be two main camps among people like you,” I start. “People like me?” he asks. “Yeah,” I tell him, “freaks. Anyway, so are you in the camp that says that being naked in the kitchen is unhygienic, or are you one of those guys that says they don’t want to get any kind of grease or food particles on your body?” “’Grease or food particles?’” he asks. I was attempting to sound like an expert, though I lack the credentials, and I think he’s onto me.

“Or whatever,” I answer. “I’m in the camp that doesn’t want their junk anywhere near knives, forks, chopping blocks, meat tenderizers, bigger knives, or salad tongs. They say most accidents happen in the home; well, that’s one accident I’m doing everything in my power to prevent,” he says. “Yeah,” I say, “I was right about you.” “What do you mean?” he asks. “You’re a freak,” I answer, and take another sip of my water. The stress of the day coupled with the exertion of the last half hour and topped with a good portion of that vodka bottle all seem to land on me at once, and as I take one last sip of water and set it on the nightstand, I close my eyes. “I’m just going to rest for a minute if that’s okay with you,” I tell him. “That’s fine,” he says. “Do you want me to go?” “No,” I tell him. “I want you right here with your arms around me.” This is the problem with knowing my limits when I drink: I always remember too much. Damian put his arms around me about eight hours ago and they’re still there, encircling me. For an instant, it feels great. It feels like something I’ve been waiting for, and I’m just a moderate hangover away from feeling complete when the gravity of what happened last night finally takes hold. The sex complicates things enough, but the passing out after crying after coming bit? That’s not really the way I wanted last night to go. When he says, “Good morning,” I nearly jump out of my skin. Maybe I would have, if Damian’s arms weren’t still around me.

“Good morning,” I answer back. Then there’s nothing. I mean, absolutely nothing. We have nothing to say to each other after last night. Yeah, alcohol was a brilliant idea, Emma; really A-list thinking there. “So…” he says. “Yeah…” I respond. “Do you want me to sneak out of here or should I go out there and start fixing up some breakfast?” he asks. I wonder: if I told him that I’d like him to fix some breakfast and then leave, would he do it? “Whatever would make you the most comfortable,” I tell him. I think I may have unwittingly put us within striking distance of having the relationship talk and it’s way too fucking early, both in the morning and in the relationship for that to happen right now. He may have opened the door by asking me how I wanted him to leave, but I pulled us the rest of the way through it by letting him know the ball is in his court on that one. Being noncommittal has managed to lead directly to a question of increasing commitment. No matter how he responds to my statement, it’s going to tell me something about his desired level of commitment, and then I’m going to feel like I’ve got to reciprocate, and then he’s going to ask me how we got from the manner in which he leaves my apartment to me telling him my views on the modern relationship, optional allowances, and

accessories of said relationship and where I fit on the spectrum between “I want to have your children” and “You can fuck me, but don’t look me in the eyes and no kissing on the lips.” Right now the answer is that I don’t have an answer. It’s still way too early to tell where this is going to go, and I haven’t even begun to shuffle through the various and often contradictory emotions I’m feeling right now. “Why don’t I pop into the bathroom and then we can figure it out from there,” he says. Well, that’s just great. He doesn’t want to tip his hand before he has an idea where I’m at. Clever, Mr. Jones, very clever. Then again, though, it could be possible that he’s got to pee and I’m reading way too much into everything. But would I be reading this much into everything if I didn’t see some kind of future between the two of us? That’s the real question, I think. I mean, what happens when he comes out of that bathroom? He’s going to come out of there and I’m not going to have any idea what to tell him. I could always offer him coffee. Coffee’s a nice way to say, “Hey, we just had a night of passion together. That doesn’t mean we have to talk about it.” Of course, coffee can also imply sex. If I ask him to join me for some coffee, is he going to think that I’m trying to get a little good morning sausage from him?

Would it be so bad if that’s what I did? No, things are already complicated enough. The best bet here is for me to just wait until he’s out of the bathroom and then go into the bathroom myself, putting the ball back in his court. Of course, where is it said that the person in the bathroom can’t be the one to do the thinking? I guess I’m the one that started this whole thing this morning, but that doesn’t mean that I’m the only one that can deal with it.

Chapter Ten Metaphor and Simile Damian It’s been a week now since Penelope first stopped by. It’s also been about a week since Emma and I first got together, but that’s not really important right now. What’s important is that I’m standing outside the hospital where Penelope told me to meet her and I’m having some serious second thoughts about going inside. She was supposed to meet me out here, right here. She told me to wait for her by the smoking area on the north side of the building. When it comes to smoking, Penelope is a world class athlete. Forget the smoke rings and the French inhaling. That’s child’s play. I could swear—nobody believes this story, but I could swear that Penelope once managed to blow a perfectly symmetrical figure eight that just kept growing in size until a slight breeze finally distorted the lines out of recognition. She just looked at me afterward, too, with a rather self-satisfied look. Now, she hasn’t shown up to meet me and I think I’m just going to go. Ed has a lot of hate for me for what happened to Jamie, that’s nothing new. And as great as it would be to somehow work through that and actually get to know each other without all the vitriol, I’m not daft enough to believe that’s actually going to happen. I’m going to go up there and either the visit turns into an argument, or he ends up

keeling over at the very sight of me. I really don’t see this working out. “I’m so glad you came,” Penelope’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn around. “Hey,” I tell her. “I was just looking for you.” “It looked like you were just getting ready to leave,” she says. “Yeah,” I tell her. “Sorry about that. I’m here. Let’s do this.” “There are a few things I should tell you,” she says, “you know, about Ed’s condition.” This should be a comfortable experience. I’ve always felt weird about hearing about other people’s health issues from a third party. “He’s on a lot of medication right now to try to keep his heart going until they can find a transplant,” she says, “but he’s still pretty aware of what’s going on around him. They took the tube out of his throat, so he’s just on an oxygen mask right now. He’s lost some weight since he’s been here, because he can’t bring himself to eat, but his color is starting to look better…” She keeps going, but as she does, I start to notice a sick feeling creeping into my stomach and I’m not sure I can listen to any more of it. It’s not the description of Ed’s health and the apparatuses that are keeping him alive that bothers me so much as it is thinking back to that black bag of carved, limb-shaped tofu in its raspberry sauce. Rita called me again today, though this time she didn’t see it necessary at all to say anything to me. She just kept breathing into the phone. I assume the call was placed so I’d know she was out there, alive and unharmed—a

superhero in her own right: Stalker Girl, the only superhero who might just end up killing you in your sleep with a pair of tweezers and a claw hammer. “How long do I have?” I ask. Penelope, who had been in the middle of a sentence talking about how I shouldn’t worry that they keep a crash cart in Ed’s room at all times because with the chance that his heart just goes, the doctors don’t feel comfortable having Ed more than 10 feet away from a defibrillator, looks up at me and says, “I know you’re not thrilled to be here, but the fact of the matter is that you are here, and I think the two of you can still make peace in the time he has left.” “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Penelope,” I tell her. “I’ll do my best, but he has a lot of enmity toward me.” Hey, I finally got to use that word in a sentence. Bully. “Just having you here is enough,” she says. “I’m just glad you came.” Penelope takes me by the hand, and she leads me through the lobby to the elevator down the hall, and we go until she stops and turns to face me. “Just go easy,” she says. “Can you do that for me? I know he can be a hard man to love, but he’s not a bad man. Just go easy.” I’m not the one I’m worried about, but if it’ll put her mind at ease… “All right,” I tell her. “Are you going in with me, or should I go in alone or what?” I ask. “Oh, I really think I should be in there with you, don’t you think?” she asks. I shrug. It’s going to be hellish either way.

We enter the room, and Ed’s is the first bed in the room. “Edward,” Penelope says, “you’ve got a visitor.” He’s lying there, pale and visibly weak in his bed, but when he hears his wife’s voice, he still opens his eyes. When he sees her, his eyes brighten, almost as if the sight of her is giving him new life. Then he looks over and finds me standing here. His expression changes pretty quickly. Ed lifts his oxygen mask, and in a thin, raspy voice, he asks, “What the hell is he doing here?” “I thought it would be good if the two of you talked for a while,” Penelope says. “It would be good for the two of you to bury the hatchet. I know Jamie never liked that the two of you butted heads and I see no reason why it should go on any longer.” That was pretty good. I wonder if it’ll have an effect. “This Hollywood fuckhead killed our daughter,” he says. I’m not noticing any results yet. “He didn’t kill Jamie,” Penelope says. “Nobody killed Jamie. She died. It’s not anyone’s fault.” He puts his oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose and folds his arms across his chest with the universal guy gesture that says, “She’s going to make us talk and there’s nothing we can do about that, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” After a few seconds, the mask comes back up a little and Ed’s saying, “So did you actually want to talk to me or did you just come here for the thrill of watching me wither away?”

“I really miss our talks, Ed,” I tell him. “Everyone needs to hear some good bullshit every once in a while.” “Me bullshit?” he asks. “You’re the one always saying that my daughter resented me,” he seethes, “that she didn’t want to be around me.” “What are you talking about?” I burst. “I never said anything like that.” “Yes you did, you lying sack of shit,” Ed says, “yes you did.” For a second, I’m actually a little worried that he’s going to climb out of that bed and we’re going to have to throw down. “I said basically the same thing that your wife just said,” I tell him. “I told you that Jamie didn’t like that we’ve never gotten along. Ed, would it be the end of the world if we were to have one conversation where neither one of us tries to push the other one off of a cliff?” “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you,” Ed says. “You’d love to come in here and say you fixed everything right before the old man keeled over. That way, you’d be the hero and I’d be the old fart that was wrong about everything all along. Well, I’m not buying it and you shouldn’t be selling it.” “Penelope, I’m sorry, but I really don’t think this is going to work,” I tell the only friendly face in the room. “Give it a chance, you two!” Penelope shouts. “Listen, if the two of you can’t speak with each other with some kind of respect, then why don’t you both shut your mouths and just listen.” I’m perfectly fine with that arrangement. My phone starts to ring, but I press the mute button through my pocket. Ever since that first heavy breathing call—which I was very surprised to find out is a real thing, by

the way—Rita, if that’s really her name, has been calling me on the hour, every hour, and as I glance at the clock I’m kind of wishing will fall from its place and just put Ed out of my misery, I’m reasonably certain it’s her. If not, I’m sure whoever’s calling will leave a voicemail. “Now, do the two of you remember that one Christmas dinner where I’d forgotten to go out and get the sweet potatoes?” Penelope asks. “I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Ed says, “but I’m not going to bear listening to the sweet potato story one more goddamned time.” The way he says it is kind of mean, but I actually agree with the sentiment. The story of the sweet potatoes is that Penelope thought she’d forgotten to get sweet potatoes for Christmas dinner, but after enlisting Jamie’s help and my help and Ed’s help, we discovered that she actually had a bag in the pantry all along. The end. I know she likes to tell that story because it’s one of the few times that all four of us were together and nobody was arguing. Actually, as I think about it, Ed and Penelope were arguing about whether or not sweet potatoes were actually traditional Christmas fare or not, but it wasn’t the hatefest that Ed and I have so long enjoyed. “Fine,” Penelope says. “Just think about how much the two of you have in common, though. You both love movies. That’s something, right? Damian, what’s a good movie you think Ed might like?” “I have no idea,” I answer quickly. I think we’re getting a bit off topic, but Penelope is trying anything to get us to find some common ground.

“We both loved Jamie,” I tell her. “That’s true,” Penelope says, “and that’s the most important thing of all.” “You couldn’t have supported that child even if everything had gone off without complication,” Ed says. “Ed,” I scoff, “even when I was trying to do the normal life thing, I still had a couple hundred thou in the bank at any given time. I don’t know exactly how much you think a baby costs, but—” “That’s not what I’m talking about,” he says. “Supporting a child isn’t just about money. It’s about your whole life. Every moment of your life from the moment that child is born is about that child and for that child. That was never you. You were always more content to just go on acting like responsibility was a four-letter word.” “I don’t know where you’re getting that from,” I tell him, “but I always took my responsibilities seriously when it came to your daughter and the baby.” Ed laughs. “We’re never going to make any progress here because we don’t know the same language. Sure, what you’re speaking sounds like what I’m speaking, but apparently, you do not understand a damn word that I’m saying. Now, I’m old, I’m sick, and I’m tired. If I ask nicely, do you think you could find it in your heart to get the hell out of my room?” Sure, Ed. I can do that. I turn and walk out the door. Yeah, I’d hoped for things to go differently, but I didn’t expect it. I have a pretty solid memory, and in every single memory I have where Ed and I were in the same room, if we were talking to each other, we were talking down to each other. “Damian, wait,” Penelope calls behind me.

I’m almost to the elevator, but I turn and wait for her to catch up to me. “I can’t talk to him, Penelope,” I tell her. “I’ve tried. Look, I’m sorry he’s sick, I really am, but I don’t think that’s going to change a decade of him hating me.” “I know things didn’t go so well,” she says, “but you’ve got to promise me that you’ll try again.” “I already have tried again. I’ve tried dozens of times over the years to find some sort of inroad with him, but to Ed, I’m always going to be the guy that not only tried to take his daughter away from him, but the guy who actually succeeded in every possible sense,” I tell her. She bites her lip and I’m feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I said that in the heat of the moment, but you know that’s what he thinks of me. We’re not going to work through that in a couple of hospital visits.” “Then keep trying until he’s dead,” Penelope says. “The way things are looking, that shouldn’t be too far off, anyway, so if you’d just put forth that small investment, you’d make an old woman very happy. I can’t defend the way he talks to you. It’s not fair what happened to Jamie and it’s not fair that he’s been making it harder on you all these years, but I know both of you so well and I love you both so much—I’m sure that if the two of you could just get past your differences for even a few minutes, you’d find that you’re a lot more alike than either of you would ever admit.” “Penelope,” I tell her, “you know I’d do anything for you, but I don’t see the point in this. He’s always going to hate me. I don’t know what else there is to say on the topic. That’s just how it is and how it always has been.” “Please,” she says. “I don’t have that many people left in my life, and I’d hate for two of them to lose their last chance to make peace.”

“Penelope, if you really need me to do this, I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise next time’s going to be any better than this time,” I tell her. “I really need you to do this,” she says. “Jamie never got to see the two of you make up or even have a pleasant conversation. I think it’s something he’d be excited to tell her about, though, when he…” As far as low blows go, that one was pretty far below the beltline, but I am a man of my word. I’m willing to put myself through a little hell for a few days or maybe a few weeks to take some of the stress off of Penelope, but I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid. For what he’s said to me since Jamie’s death, Ed Morgan is the worst person I have ever met in my life. I get that he was pissed off and scared and gutted, but that didn’t give him the right to tell me that I’m the reason she’s dead. The asshole future-father-in-law thing was irritating, but it was endurable. Attacking me after I’d just suffered the greatest injury I’m likely to suffer, though, and never letting up, never apologizing or even acknowledging that maybe he’d gone too far, even one time —that’s what’s unforgivable. “I told you,” I say, “if it’s that important to you, I’ll come back, but I can’t promise anything.” “I understand,” she says. “Thank you.” “Yeah, yeah,” I tell her, and pull her into my arms. “You’re nothing but trouble for me, you know that?” I ask. “I know,” she says. “It’s what moms do.” “All right,” I tell her. “I’ve got to get to work, but give me a call if you need anything, okay?” “I will,” she says, and we part ways.

It astounds me that a woman like Penelope, so sweet and nurturing, one of those people that just treats you like you’re someone special, even if you’re only meeting for the first time, could be married to a hateful, resentful man like Ed. That’s the way it usually goes, though. Still, I had hoped that maybe things would be different this time, but that’s what addicts call not playing the tape through to the end. I get off the elevator and am walking back to my car when my phone rings again. It’s too soon for another moaning call from Rita. I pull the phone out of my pocket and look at the caller ID. I answer the phone, “Hey, Danna. What’s up?” “Hey bro,” she says, “I kind of need your help here a little bit.” My blood turns cold. “What’s going on?” I ask. The last time she told me she needed help, she was in the hospital for a week. The time before that was just before she was diagnosed. “I kind of lost my balance and I’m finding it a little difficult to move, well, at all,” she says, trying to mask the fear in her voice. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to dial a number when your hands aren’t working?” “I’ll be right there,” I tell her, “or do you need me to call an ambulance?” “Uh, the way my foot is starting to turn colors, I think you should probably just call an ambulance and meet me at the hospital,” she says. “Hang in there,” I tell her. “You’re going to be just fine, all right? We’re going to figure this thing out in no time.”

“You know,” she says, “for such a famous actor, you’re not very good.” “Oh, shut the fuck up and let me call an ambulance,” I tell her. “That sounds more like you,” she says. “You’re probably going to have to do the hanging up on this one. I had to press the call button with my nose and you have no idea how many times I had to go back and delete or re-enter numbers—it’s a pain in the ass.” “Love ya, sis,” I tell her. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I hang up and call 911. After quickly explaining the situation, I tell the dispatcher that my sister will be waiting inside the house, but unable to answer the door, and that, because I’m not close enough to home to make a difference, if they need to break down the door, they have my permission. I really liked that door, too. The dispatcher is kind enough to keep me on the phone until paramedics arrive at the house and get Danna on a stretcher. Before the dispatcher hangs up, I ask which hospital they’re taking Danna to, hoping that I’ll luck out and not have to chase her down, but the nearest hospital isn’t this one. I get in my car and fumble with the keys for a minute before I manage to work the right one into the ignition. This isn’t the first time Danna’s had an episode. It’s not even the first time she’s had an episode since she’s been staying with me. They’re not fatal in most circumstances—the exceptions generally being someone falling and hitting their head on something—but they’re terrifying, not only for Danna, but for me. This sounds like the worst one yet. She’s been unable to get up before, but she’s never

lost the ability to move all four of her limbs at the same time. I get to the hospital and find Danna as she’s being wheeled through the emergency room. The doctor talks to me a little as he and some nurses push her into a small room and transfer her from one gurney to another. “It looks like she’s got a broken leg,” he says. “When she collapsed, she must have fallen onto something or over something, because there is a definite fracture on the lower portion of her tibia. She’s breathing all right, though she’s very fatigued. We need to run some tests, but we’ll keep you posted. If you’ll just wait outside in the waiting room…” With that, one of the nurses grabs both of my arms and physically turns me toward the door. “You all right, Danna?” I call over the doctor’s shoulder. A weak voice amid all the movement and commotion replies, saying, “I’m just faking it to get out of work, boss.” “That’s what I like to hear,” I call back to her, and now, with that out of the way, I gladly walk out and find the waiting room. * * * Having an episode is a traumatic thing for Danna, and to a lesser degree (or at least a different one), for me as well. As I sit here in Danna’s hospital room in the chair next to her bed, I think about the odd ways in which people deal with things. Some people get pissed off, some people get

more determined, some people crawl into a bottle, and some people just shut down completely. Danna and me, though? We’re dealing with this situation by going out of our way not to even bring it up. In the half hour it’s been since the doctors let me in here to see her, we haven’t once talked about why we’re having our conversation in a hospital room. She probably doesn’t have long before the fatigue wipes her out for who knows how long. Why waste what time we have by only talking about why we’re in the room. “By the way,” Danna says, “you got a new message from your secret admirer.” “Did I?” I ask. “I like that you’re calling her my secret admirer now. It sounds a lot better than crazy-stalker-fuckhead.” “I’m sure she’s just lonely,” Danna says dismissively. “Anyway, you remember the flowers in different stages of development that she set out on the sidewalk last time, right?” “Of course,” I answer. “Yeah, so this time, she wrote you a love note that stretches along the sidewalk all the way around our block,” Danna says. “She used big letters, so I managed to get it written down. It should be in my purse somewhere—did they grab my purse?” she asks. “Did you check?” “It’s American healthcare,” I tell her. “Do you really think they’d let you in here without taking a thorough look through your pockets and purses for loose change?” “You know,” she says, “if you’ve got my purse or you know where it is, you can really just tell me. If not, I’m sure if we flipped to the right news station, we’d get an aerial view of the whole scene.” “I really don’t care that much about what the poem said,” I tell Danna, and before I

can continue, her head has jerked toward me and she’s giving me a glare, as if sensing that I’m about to ask her about what happened today. “We’ve got to talk about it at some point,” I tell her. “We really don’t,” she says. “I fell and broke my leg. I’m probably going to need to stay off my feet for a while and get a lot of rest, but I’m going to be fine. I’m not dying or anything,” she says. “How’d it go with Ed?” I don’t want to talk about it and so I don’t even respond to the question. “Danna,” I tell her, “this is happening more frequently now. I mean, is it just going to get worse from here? I think maybe it’s time that we hire Paolo.” The origins of Paolo are largely lost to antiquity, but I do remember that the name first came up a few months after Danna had been diagnosed. I don’t remember the exact conversation, but I remember that it culminated in me promising that, in the scenario that Danna gets worse and I, for some reason, am in charge of the hiring and firing of any temporary or permanent healthcare and/or rehabilitation staff, that I would make sure her healthcare worker was a handsome man with a sensual accent. I do remember that knowing English wasn’t a job requirement so long as he was willing to give Danna sponge baths multiple times a day until she got bored of him, at which time, I’d hire someone new to replace him. Where the name Paolo itself came from, I haven’t the slightest recollection. So when I tell Danna that it might be time we hire a Paolo, I’m putting the words in a way that’s likely to be a little easier to hear, but it’s not going to change the weight of what those words really mean. Danna’s still young and she’s still got a lot of time ahead of her. If she keeps doing

what she’s doing, though, she’s going to run herself into the ground. “We’ve got to do something,” I tell her. “I wanted you to move in so we could keep a better eye on each other. I didn’t do it so you’d overextend yourself day in and day out—” “I’m sick,” she says, resigned. “It happens.” “I think we both need a little help here to make sure that you’re not putting your health and well-being at risk,” I tell her. “You can’t take away my freedom, Damian,” she says. “I won’t allow it, and you’d never let it go on for any significant amount of time anyway, so why bother wasting the time, money, and effort.” “I’m not trying to take away your freedom,” I tell her. “I’m trying to look out for my sister, that’s all.” Her eyes are growing heavy, but that doesn’t really seem like the reason Danna’s telling me she’d like to be alone, to have a chance to close her eyes and rest. Even if it’s only temporary, we are going to have to figure out some kind of help for Danna after she gets out of the hospital, and I’m going to have to try to figure out a way to be there more. I have to work, and even if I tried to take another break, Danna wouldn’t allow it. She’s the one that got me to take the role in Flashing Lights. I didn’t even want to do the movie. No matter what I do here, Danna’s not going to like it. I’m sorry about that, but that’s out of my control. There just aren’t enough options. On the set today, they’re doing scenes with some of the extended cast, so I’ve got the day off. I was hoping to get some kind of repose after everything with Ed, but I’m never going to be able to relax until Danna’s back home.

That tells me something I should have known for a long time, and that new knowledge has me pulling the phone from my pocket and dialing the number. “Hello?” Emma answers. “Hey, Em,” I say. “Listen, there’s something I think we should talk about and as much as I’d like to do this in person, I’m not sure how practical that’s going to be right now.” “Well, this doesn’t sound good,” she says. “Danna’s not doing so well right now, and that made me realize that I’m really not in a position right now where I’m ready for a relationship,” I tell her. “Well,” she says, “we’re just dating. If you need some space or some time, that’s fine. I don’t think that we need to call everything off completely, though. We’re still finding out where this goes.” “I know,” I tell her, “and I’m really sorry, but I do think that’s going to be the best thing for both of us right now.” “Well, I’m not going to sit here and argue with you about it,” she says. “If you want us to stop seeing each other outside of work, we’ll stop seeing each other outside of work. One thing, though.” “What’s that?” I ask. “Are you okay?” she asks. “Your voice is really shaky.” “I’m fine,” I tell her, and even I notice the quiver in my tone this time around. “Have I really been talking like that this whole time?” I ask. “Mostly after the phrase ‘Hey, Em,’” she answers. “I’m just feeling totally overwhelmed right now and I need to be here for my sister. I’m kind of all she’s got right now, and I need to be able to work and still have time to take

care of her when I need to.” “I’m not arguing with you,” she says. “I’ve got a spotless record: I’ve never tried to keep someone in a relationship against their will. I’m asking if you’re okay because you don’t sound like you are.” “I’m not,” I tell her. Honesty every once in a while clears the palate, you know. “Where are you?” she asks. “I’ll come and keep you company.” “I don’t think that’s the best idea,” I tell her. “Why don’t we just talk tomorrow when we’re in the chair?” “Because I don’t know if you’re going to be okay tomorrow when we’re in the chair and I do know that you’re not okay right now,” she says. “I’m not saying I want to come in there and get relationship juice all over you, but we can still be friends, right?” “Yeah,” I answer. “Well, don’t friends help each other out when one of them is having a hard time?” she asks. “Well, yeah,” I answer. “Then let me know where you are so I can come and help you through it,” she says. Nobody’s said anything like that to me in a very long time, not with that level of altruism, anyway. “Danna’s sleeping right now,” he says. “Then just give me the name of the hospital and I’ll meet you wherever you want me to meet you,” she says. “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” she returns. “I kind of just broke up with you there and you still want to come down to the hospital because I’m having a rough time,” I tell her. “Yeah,” she says, “so?” “That’s crazy,” I tell her. “Not when your friend is having a hard time,” she says. “I can’t leave the hospital,” I tell her. “I know,” she says. “Just tell me where to meet you and I’ll come there. You can be as close or as far away as you need to be.” I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know what to say. “Thanks,” I finally mutter, and I tell her where to meet me. While Danna’s sleeping, there’s no reason I can’t spend a little time talking to Emma. Before her diagnosis, Danna was in school, training to be a ballet dancer. She was really quite something. I never really understood the ballet, but Danna loved it. Every time we talked, that’s what she wanted to talk about. I think that’s why it’s so much harder to see her stuck in a bed or struggling to get around the house. It’s not always like that, though. With relapsing remitting MS, Danna actually spends most of her life symptom-free, at least to the largest degree, but even with her long bouts of healthiness, Danna had to give up her dream. Since Jamie, I’ve dated a bit here and there. I even tried being the Hollywood swinger type for a little while, but Danna always needed me more than I needed to be with

someone. A little time passes and I spot Emma walking toward our designated meeting place, so I set off to meet her. “What’s going on?” she asks when we’re within conversational distance. “Is everything all right?” “Yeah,” I tell her. “Danna’s going to be fine.” One of the things about Danna is that she loved Jamie. The feeling was mutual. In fact, I’m not entirely sure that Jamie liked me more than she liked my sister. That was all well and good, but now that Jamie’s gone, as far as Danna’s concerned, nobody will ever measure up. It took me years before I realized what was really going on. After Jamie died, Danna didn’t grieve. Because of my own sorrow, I hadn’t allowed her to grieve. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it was just the way things played out, and so Danna took the role of pillar while I was allowed to let loose with my emotions whenever and however I saw fit. I think, more than anything, Danna talks down every woman that comes around because she is afraid of getting attached to someone new only to end up losing them as well, whether to death or to a breakup or whatever the case may be. She never got to grieve and so she’s had to stifle that sadness, she had to channel the hurt. It had to go somewhere. Anyway, there are a lot of reasons I don’t think right now would be the best time for Danna and Emma to meet. “I’m glad to hear that,” Emma says. “You sound a little better than you did on the

phone,” she continues. “Are you doing better?” “Yeah,” I tell her. “I don’t know.” “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what happened, are you?” she asks. “It is what it is,” I tell her. “I just wish there was something I could do.” “Maybe there is,” Emma says. “You’re a rich and well-known, if not well-respected, actor. This is what we do, isn’t it? When we want to see something change, we find a cause and we get behind it.” “Yeah, the problem with that is that a few million here or there isn’t going to change anything,” I tell her. “Look, I know how this whole thing is going to go. I’ve been through this with her before, and I don’t really think we’re going to make all of it feel better or that we’re going to make me magically stop caring.” “I know,” she says. “I just know that sometimes it can help me feel better when I talk about what’s going on with me. It doesn’t necessarily solve the problem. It doesn’t have to. Some problems aren’t just going to go away by talking them out. All that you can do when there’s nothing else that you can do is to try to get through it without running yourself down mentally, emotionally, or physically.” I tell her, “I really don’t want to talk about it.” “Then let’s talk about something else,” Emma says. “What did you have in mind?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter,” Emma says. “What do you want to talk about?” “Right now,” I tell her, “I don’t know what there is to say. I mean, Danna’s sick and she’s not going to get any better in a permanent kind of way. There’s no reason to think she won’t live a happy and full life, but times like this make me just wonder how she can wake up in the morning and decide that life is still worth living.”

“She’s still got a smile on her face after everything, huh?” Emma asks. “Oh no,” I tell her. “Danna’s one of the most cynical people I’ve ever known. She always has been in one way or another. That’s the comforting thing, really.” “How so?” Emma asks. “It hasn’t changed,” I tell her. “She was cynical before her diagnosis and she’s cynical now. I guess the things that make me feel more hopeful aren’t the occasional improvements or the long stretches when she’s symptomless, they’re the things that just haven’t changed.” “She’s still your sister,” Emma says. I haven’t shared too much about Emma with Danna, nor have I shared that much about Danna with Emma. In my life, there are two separate and distinct worlds. In one world, I am me, Damian Jones, actor, extraordinarily handsome gentleman, etc. In the other, though, I’m Danna’s twin, and in that world, nothing is more important. “I know she’s still my sister,” I tell Emma. “I’m just sick of losing so many little pieces of her. This thing, it just chips away at a person, bit by bit, until even when symptoms aren’t relapsing, life and the drive to continue living it just starts to make a little less sense.” “Have you ever wondered why this happened to her and not to you?” Emma asks. I’m not entirely sure what to say to that. “Listen,” I tell Emma, “I told you that I didn’t want to talk about any of this. Now that we have, is there any way we can just let the whole thing drop?” “I guess so,” Emma says. “It’s a shame, though. It’s a real, real shame.” I sigh and ask, “What’s that?”

“You almost sounded like you were on the verge of saying something that was going to make you feel better,” she says. “I haven’t the slightest idea what it might have been, but I saw that little gleam in your eye. Come on, out with it.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her. “I think you do,” she says. “I don’t know if you were going to answer my question or if you were going to tell me the rules to seven card stud, but whatever came into your mind right then—that was important.” “That’s the thing,” I tell her. “I wasn’t thinking anything that I wasn’t saying. I don’t know what you want to hear.” “What happened to your parents?” she asks. “You’ve seen the magazines and the talk shows,” I tell her. “You must have heard the story at some point, if nothing else, at least on the set.” “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she says. “I really don’t want to,” I tell her. “That’s all right,” she says. “So, why’d you break up with me?” “Can we maybe do this another time?” I ask. “Well, we’re here. We may as well talk about something,” she says. “We may as well work out any issues remaining between us before they overtake and kill the friendship I hope we still have.” “We’re still friends,” I tell her. “The problem isn’t you. The problem isn’t even Danna or me,” I continue. “The problem is that I only have so much capacity for some things before I get filled up. The problem is that I feel guilty about starting a torrid love affair while my sister’s lying in a hospital bed, okay?”

“She wants you to be happy, doesn’t she?” Emma asks. “Yeah,” I answer. “I guess.” “Then what’s the problem?” Emma asks. “The problem is that I don’t know how to be with anyone while I’m still taking care of her,” I blurt, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve crossed a personal line. “That’s some heavy shit,” Emma says. “Tell me about it,” I respond. Emma starts again, “Are there any new medications coming out, or—” “There’s always supposed to be something on the horizon,” I tell her. “They’re always so close to an answer, if not a full-fledged cure, at least that’s what they keep saying, but it never happens. Either the drug ends up not working or it kills the test subjects. Either way, empty words float heavy on the wind.” “Yeah,” Emma says. “That they do.” “Listen,” I tell her, “I’ve got to get back in there, but I am glad that you stopped by.” “Of course,” Emma says. “Anytime. We’re still friends, right?” We’re still friends, right? How am I supposed to answer that question? In a lot of ways, I really don’t know Emma all that well. We’ve been kind of forced into close proximity and so we’ve gotten to know each other at an increased pace, but at the same time, right now, I’m not sure that I’m in a position to make long-term predictions about where this could go and where it will go. “You know,” I tell her, “no. Emma, I don’t want to be your friend. I want us to be

together in a real way, but that just can’t happen with everything else that’s going on. It’s not fair and it’s not simple, but it is reality.” Emma’s bottom lip rises for a moment and then retreats back into its normal position. “Really?” she asks. “You’re going to give up on having your own relationships because you think your sister will think you’ve deserted her? Shit, that was a mouthful. It doesn’t matter; look,” she says, “if you’re not happy, how is it that you think you could really hope to make someone else happy?” “Actually,” I tell her, “it’s really not that hard to do. People get behind self-sacrifice pretty easily. I’ve always wondered where we got the idea that in order to make another person happy, we also need to be happy—not just that moment or that day, but in our lives, in our careers, with our family and friends. A great deal of my life has been spent feeling miserable,” I tell her. “That’s never stopped me from making Danna smile.” “Okay,” Emma says, “but if she smiles when you’re ‘feeling miserable,’ who’s to say that she wouldn’t smile more if you were happy.” “I don’t know,” I tell her. “It’s complicated.” “Well, there’s a cop out if I’ve ever heard one,” Emma scoffs. “What do you want me to do?” I ask. “I want you to quit thinking that you have to give everything up to be there for your sister,” she says. “You can be there for her and still live your own life.” “I should get back in there and see how she’s doing,” I tell her. “All right,” she says. “I’m not going to hold a gun to your head and say ‘have a relationship with me.’ If us being a thing isn’t going to work out for you, that’s that. I just don’t want to you to think that in order to be there for your sister you have to live the rest of your life in a hole. So, why don’t you think about where you see the two of us on the

spectrum between stranger and lover and you let me know. Until then,” she says, “I really do hope that your sister gets to feeling better real soon.” “Thanks,” I tell her. “I appreciate that.” The conversation ends and we haven’t really settled anything. There’s a lot to think about, but I don’t know if anything’s going to be able to change reality enough for me to have what I want to have with Emma. I head back up to Danna’s room and just watch her sleep for a little while. My life has gotten so small over the last 10 years or so. It almost collapsed when Jamie died, and when Danna was diagnosed, well, by that time, I’d already started to go numb. Being with Emma, it kind of feels like putting your hands under hot water after you’ve just been in freezing weather for a couple of hours. It’s the surprising sensation of feeling something after being anesthetized for so long. Right now, it just hurts. Maybe in time, after I’ve gotten used to the warmth, it’ll start to feel like something else, but right now, it just hurts.

Chapter Eleven The Backslide Emma It’s been three weeks since Damian broke up with me, and as funny as it might sound, I’m still not sure where I stand with him. The breakup itself was a clear enough signal, but let’s just say there have been a few peculiarities to the situation that have kept the question alive. “Good morning,” Damian says, and gives me a kiss on the forehead. Yeah, like him being naked in my bed after spending the night. “You know,” I tell him, “one of these days, you’re going to have to make an honest woman out of me.” “I think it might be a little soon to talk about marriage,” he says. “I’m not talking about marriage. I’m just saying that we’re technically still broken up,” I tell him. “Really, I don’t think I’m so much a dishonest woman as I am a confused woman.” I reach under the covers and slide my hand down his body, between his legs. “See?” I ask. “This sort of thing doesn’t usually happen with exes, so are we fuck buddies, are we in a relationship, what?” “I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.” “You know,” I tell him. “I could be pretty pissed off that you broke up with me.”

“I didn’t break up with you,” he says. “Wait—yeah, I did. I really need that coffee.” “Yeah,” I tell him, “you do.” He’s still looking at me, though. “You don’t expect me to make it for you, do you?” I ask. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he says. “So, what,” I laugh, “every time you want me to do something, you’re not going to bother asking, you’re just going to give me the puppy dog eyes?” “If it works,” he says. “If not, I’ve got backup plans.” “Get your own coffee,” I tell him, and throw the covers over my head. He’s still not moving. I don’t really care whether or not he has coffee, but having been presented with the expectation of hot coffee in a pot, I’m starting to crave a cup myself. I pull the covers back down and he’s just lying there, staring at me. “What?” I ask. “I already told you I’m not making you coffee right now.” “I just think you’re pretty, that’s all,” he says. Pretty’s not a bad thing to be called, but it is a strange option considering all the alternatives. “Thanks?” I ask. “Seriously,” he says. “You could be a movie star or something.” “You haven’t seen Battle for the Nexus, have you?” I ask. He laughs. “I can’t say that I have,” he answers. “I played Morgan Salazar, the sexy former Marine commander who succumbs to

greed, lust for power, and the sheer temptations that come with wearing silk overcoats with nothing recognizable as a top underneath,” I tell him. “If that didn’t make me a movie star, I don’t know what possibly could.” “It actually wasn’t that bad,” he says. I turn my head to look at him. “You actually saw that?” I ask. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “I’ve seen all your movies.” “I’m sorry,” I answer. “I don’t know why that’s my go-to response when someone tells me they’ve seen all my movies.” “Yeah, that’s a bit of a strange one,” he says. “Anyway, I really liked that speech you gave when you went from being Morgan Salazar to the Mistress of Temptation. It was very moving.” “Yeah, I remember that scene. I believe I was talking to a group of half-man, halfassorted-sea-creatures at the time,” I tell him. “How inspiring could that possibly have been for you?” “It was pretty good,” he says. “Solid inflection, didn’t overact on the more dramatic lines. I was really impressed.” “Why would you even watch a movie like that?” I ask. “I haven’t even seen the completed version, and I was at the premiere. Of course, the premiere was held at a Bennigan’s off of I-5, and I spent most of my time hiding out in the bathroom.” “You’re really that ashamed of your films?” he asks. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “I think I was at the time, but now that I’m starting to claw my way out of the absurdity of the low-budget scene, it doesn’t really seem that bad. They were terrible movies, but they got me here.”

“That’s what led you to my bed, huh?” he asks. “No,” I tell him, and give him a playful punch in the chest. “That’s what led me to the world of legitimate film.” “Where’s that?” Damian asks. “From what I’ve seen, legitimate films are like static on a radio: they’re always there, but nobody’s quite sure where they come from.” “You tried really hard there, didn’t you?” I ask, and in a mocking voice, I add, “‘Legitimate films are like static, myeh.” He opens his palms and looks up to the ceiling, saying, “She wonders why I broke up with her. Can you believe it?” “Oh, fuck off and make me some coffee, will you?” I ask. “Actually,” he says, “I’ve got a better idea.” He smiles at me and turns his body toward me. I look into his eyes and say, “That’s your hand on my tit.” “Yeah,” he says. “It seems like a better idea than coffee to me.” “Your hand on my tit?” I ask. “Why do you call them that?” he asks. “I thought most women hated that term?” “What’s the difference?” I ask. “Am I talking about different things when I call it a boob instead of a breast or a tit instead of a mammary or a love pillow instead of a quivering alabaster orb?” “Dude,” he says, “you just blew my mind.” “Dude?” I ask. “So, are you going to just keep your hand there awhile or—” “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah?” I ask. “You’re just going to leave it sitting there motionless like a dried-up

octopus with three limbs missing?” “That paints a bit of a picture,” he says, “but I was thinking about starting with the hand on your alabaster orb and maybe, you know, seeing where things go from there.” “Are you starting to think that maybe we should just stop talking?” I ask. “Yeah,” he answers, and he leans over me to kiss my lips. With one arm under my pillow and his other hand massaging my “tit,” Damian kisses my mouth and my jaw on his way to nibble on my ear. His hand moves from my breast down between my legs and he parts my legs with his fingers, his hand moving over my core. I’m running my hands down his back as he gets me so wet, his fingers soft, but commanding. I move my hands across his body and in between his legs to find him already hard and throbbing in my hand, and as I tug softly, he moves one, then two, fingers inside me. My body’s churning with lust, and I’m not going to lie, a bit of confusion. This beautiful man massaging my G-spot still hasn’t reversed the breakup. In practical terms, that doesn’t mean much, but it’s a level of uncertainty that I’d just as soon do without. “What are we, Damian?” I ask. “What do you mean?” he asks before kissing my breasts. I’m a bit distracted at the moment, and I don’t really feel like explaining. “What are we?” I repeat. He looks up at me, his fingers still inside, but still now. “You’re really into the labels, aren’t you?” he asks. “It’s not so much that I care for labels,” I tell him. “I just want to know if this is going

to end any day now, or if you’re looking to make it a more permanent thing.” “Can’t we just,” he says and his fingers are moving again, “enjoy each other and worry about the rest of it later?” I can certainly think of better times to have this conversation, but it’s getting in the way of my “enjoyment,” so I persist. “Someone asks me if I have a boyfriend, what do I say?” I ask. “I think we can make it that simple.” “It’s not really my place to answer that question for you,” he says. “Clumsy,” I tell him. “If someone asks you if you have a girlfriend, what do you say?” I ask. His fingers stop again and he slides them out of me. “Nobody’s really asked,” he says. “Hey, Damian, do you have a girlfriend?” I ask. “Now that was clumsy,” he says. “If you don’t want to be in a relationship,” I tell him, “that’s fine. Really, I’m enjoying myself and if sex is all we’re going to have, I’m okay with that. But it would be good to know where I stand, or at least a general idea.” He sighs and rolls onto his back. “It’s complicated,” he says. “Why’s it complicated?” I ask. “It’s a pretty simple question.” “It’s not just about what I want,” he says. “It’s about whether or not my life is currently suited to accommodate a serious relationship.” “You’ve had a little time to think about it, though,” I tell him. “Seriously, there’s no wrong answer here.” Who am I kidding? Of course there’s a wrong answer.

“Danna has relapsing remitting multiple sclerosis,” he says. “I’ve been taking care of her for the last few years, even before she moved in and she just had an episode. Apart from my professional concerns, like finding a temporary agent that’s not going to screw me over and trying to keep my mind in the moment at work rather than worrying about her, she’s my sister and she’s not doing so well. I think that has to come first, doesn’t it?” he asks. “Yeah,” I answer. “That should definitely come first. But does taking care of her mean that you can’t have a life of your own, too? I’m not trying to take you away from her at all. I’m just asking where you see me in your life.” I’m starting to feel like I’m nagging him, and I don’t like that feeling. Maybe it would be simpler if I just shut up and went with it. Sooner or later, it’ll be clear exactly what we’re doing, and in the meantime, I am enjoying myself. Still, I wouldn’t be this persistent—it wouldn’t even be this strong on my mind if I weren’t already emotionally involved to the point where I really do need an answer if we’re going to keep going. Maybe it would just be simpler if we just called the whole thing off. “I’m going to go make some coffee,” he says. “All right,” I tell him. “Make a full pot, will you?” “Always do,” he says. That seems a bit wasteful. He’s out of bed and out of the room. Well, that didn’t go the way I hoped it would. I know what I’m doing right now. I’m pushing a wedge between us because I’m

freaked out about actually getting close to him. I think I would have been happy if he’d said we’re in a relationship, but with the uncertainty having gone on for weeks now, if he’s going to keep hedging his bets, I’m going to keep pushing him away. That’s only fair, I think. I get up and cocoon myself in my bathrobe. Damian is in the kitchen pouring water into the coffeemaker, and for a moment, it almost looks like a traditional, domestic scene. I shudder. “What are you doing today?” I ask. “I’m working,” he says. “What are you doing today?” “I’ve only got a couple of scenes today, so I’ve got a radio interview scheduled for later,” I tell him. “Fun,” he says. “Fuck it up.” “Why would you think I would I fuck it up?” I ask, ready to turn a bit of tension into a full-blown argument. “Whoa,” he says, turning around with his hands up. “It’s the same thing as telling someone to break a leg before they go onstage. I forgot that I haven’t said that to you before.” He’s suitably penitent that I let it go. I actually kind of like that, telling a person to fuck it up before they have some kind of performance to give, and make no mistake: radio interviews are performances. “All right,” I tell him. “You’re forgiven—but watch it.” “All right,” he says, laughing, “all right.”

Things aren’t perfect. His mind is elsewhere a lot of the time, though his reasoning for that is sound enough. I don’t know if we’re friends or fuck buddies or lovers or on our way to a big wedding one day, but all in all, I’m happy with the way things are, and so I ask, “How’s the coffee coming?” * * * On the set, I’m starting to notice something odd. When I come around a corner or out of a room, everyone seems to be staring at me, and as much as I’d love to chalk it up to the world-class performances I’ve been giving, day after day, almost without rest and yet always with perfect poise and all that, but I’m not that ego-blinded. Despite the increase in attention, nobody’s coming up to me or talking to me. They’re just staring. Staring. I manage to ignore it long enough to go through most of the day—wardrobe, hair, and makeup followed by the scene where my character finds Damian’s character cooking naked in her kitchen with the exception of a single oven mitt. He actually did the scene totally nude even though they’re never going to show anything between his knees and his navel in the final cut of the film, bless him—before someone finally walks up to me, and as soon as she opens her mouth, I know what’s been going on all day. “So, I don’t mean to pry or anything, but you just seem really nice and I don’t like knowing that something’s going on when it’s about you and you don’t know…” Tammy

from wardrobe asks. Yeah, she kind of trails off and doesn’t actually come to a single clear point, but judging by how uncomfortable she is talking to me, I’d say there’s really only one possible explanation, and she gives it. “There’s a rumor,” she says. “It’s about you and, uh,” she looks around and then leans in close, “it’s about you and Damian,” she says. “Really?” I ask, not sure whether to play it like I’m surprised or like I don’t have time for idle rumors, and so am using the word and its inflection in order to chastise her for paying mind to such childish games, so I end up about somewhere in the middle, and even I’m confused. “Yeah,” she says. “They’re saying that the two of you have been arriving to work at the same time even though you’re driving in two separate cars. They say that’s because you’re spending the night together and, um,” she leans in close again, whispering, “They say that the two of you are having sex.” I may be a little frustrated and more than a bit confused, but I know better than to confirm an on-set rumor about Damian and me. Even with Damian’s unwillingness to come to a decision aside, I’m not going to say anything. I’d really rather not start looking like the chick that’s only here because she’s getting nailed by the lead. “They say we’re having sex?” I ask. “I thought you should know,” she says. “If Damian and I arrive at the same time every once in a while, which, for the record, I don’t know that we do,” I tell her, “it’s because we’re both supposed to show up at the same time. I’ve shown up at the same time as you and we’re not having a torrid love

affair, are we, Tammy?” “Well, no…” she starts. “So why is it that when you and I show up at the same time, it’s a coincidence, and yet when Damian and I show up at the same time, it’s got to be sex?” I ask. That should do it. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t create the rumor. I just thought you should know what was being passed around and everything.” “And I appreciate that,” I tell her, and take her by the arm. “Now, why don’t we both go to work and focus on things that actually have some bearing in reality? You know,” I tell her, “like acting.” “Okay,” she says. “Thank you, and again, I’m sorry.” She thanked me. That was weird. “All right, you have a good day, Tammy,” I tell her, and release her arm. She says something back that I couldn’t possibly care to hear, and I walk away. I’m glad I got that nipped in the bud. If there was going to be one big moment where Damian and I faced exposure, that was it, and I actually got her to thank me and apologize for even bringing it up. Yeah, I’m good. I’m in my trailer waiting for my next scene when Mick, one of the assistants to the director, knocks and lets himself in without waiting for me to answer. Mick has boundary issues. “Hey,” he says. “Dutch wanted me to let you know that Jones is running long on his scene and they don’t think they’re going to be able to get to you, so you can go home or

whatever.” Mick, along with having boundary issues, is a moron. “Thanks, Mick,” I answer. “I’ll see myself out then.” “It’s just for today,” he says. “I’m sure Dutch will do your scene tomorrow.” “I’m not worried about it, Mi—” “—or another scene,” he interrupts. “You know, I know sometimes they like to shoot scenes for a movie out of order and I didn’t want you to be concerned if the scene you did tomorrow was the one you were supposed to do today.” I just look at him. Someone pays this man money to do things. It’s incredible. “Thanks, Mick,” I tell him. “You’ve put my mind at ease. I think I’ll be able to muddle through without undergoing too much psychological damage.” One more thing about Mick is that he doesn’t understand sarcasm. “Well, I certainly hope not,” he says. “Do you think that’s a possibility? I’m sure we could talk to Dutch and he could—” “Mick,” I interrupt. “You’ve got to learn when people are joking. It’s becoming a problem.” “Right,” he says. “So you’re going to be all right if your scene gets pushed to another day and you do a different scene tomorrow—not that that’s necessarily going to happen, but it is a possibility, and—” “Bye, Mick,” I interrupt, and start gathering my things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.” Again with the thanks.

“You’re welcome,” I answer, not knowing what else to say. “So, I’ll go ahead and tell Dutch that you’re all good to go and that we don’t need to worry about a thing,” he says as he slowly makes his way out of my trailer. “You probably don’t have to tell him anything,” I tell Mick. “I think he probably assumes that everything’s going to be okay.” “All right,” Mick says. “Should I even tell him that we talked or—” “It’s really simple,” I interrupt. “Go back to doing whatever you were doing before you were doing this, and if Dutch asks you if he talked to me, tell him you talked to me. If, for some reason that would absolutely baffle me and anyone else within earshot, he asks if I’m going to be all right not doing today’s scene today, you can tell him that I am perfectly fine and that it is no trouble whatsoever. Got it?” “…no trouble whatsoever,” he repeats. The jackass is actually writing this down. “Good boy,” I tell him, and send him on his way. Looking at the time, it’s probably a good thing they’re not going to try to squeeze my scene in today. I still have my radio interview to do and I’ve got just enough time to get there a little early and chat with the DJ before the show. Talking to the DJs can do a great many things for your performance during the interview. You learn little things that are on the interviewer’s mind, so you can often prepare your response a little, or if you come across as friendly, an otherwise hostile interviewer—and you’d never believe how many of those a person gets—might soften a little and ease up during the interview itself. It’s just a good idea. I get to the radio station and walk up to the front desk. The woman sitting on the other side is chewing gum and tapping the eraser end of a pencil against her forehead as she

looks over a half-complete crossword puzzle. I clear my throat and she doesn’t look up. “Excuse me,” I start. “Hold on,” she says. “I’ve almost got it.” “Almost got what?” I ask. “Hold on,” she repeats. “Maybe I could help,” I start again. “No,” she answers. “I don’t cheat at crossword puzzles. How insecure do you really think me to be?” As she’s talking, I use her general indifference toward me to look over her shoulder at the puzzle. “If you’re looking for four down,” I tell her, “it’s Cerberus.” “See?” she asks, slamming the crossword book on her desk and the pencil after it, “I tell you to hold on, I tell you that I want to do this thing on my own, and now I can’t even look at that puzzle until I’ve forgotten that I’ve met you.” She looks me up and down. “And that might take me all day.” Cheeky. “I’m Emma Roxy,” I tell her. “I’ve got an interview in about 20 minutes.” “So, you’re one of those punctual, anal types, huh?” she asks. “I bet you love being dominated. People like you always want to be dominated in a sexual situation.” “Because I show up for an interview early?” I ask. “Because you blabbed the answer I was looking for and ruined my whole afternoon crossword break,” she says.

“I don’t understand,” I tell her. She looks me up and down again and says, “Yeah, you don’t.” Is there something particularly offensive or threatening about my general appearance right now, or is this woman just a snotty bitch? “So, are you that chick who knitted seat covers for all the firehouses or what?” the snotty bitch asks. “I’m an actor,” I tell her. “I didn’t know we were having a waitress on the show today,” she says. “No,” I tell her. “I’m a real actor. It’s my job. I go to work at a movie set and have cameras filming me.” “Well, isn’t that just splendid for you,” she says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a porn star.” “Look, I really don’t have the time to stand here and argue—” I start. “Yeah you do,” she snorts. “You got here 20 minutes early.” I might just have to smack the shit out of this chick. “Could you just let him know that I’m here?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll tell him.” She picks up the phone and dials a number. “Yeah, Denise, when he goes on commercial, could you do him a favor and tell him that his porn chick interview is here and she’s chomping at the bit?” What the hell is her problem? “Yeah, thanks,” she says into the phone and shakes her mouse, turning on her computer screen to show yet another crossword puzzle. She hangs up the phone. “Yeah,” she says, staring at the screen, “someone will send you in in a little bit.”

“Thanks,” I tell her, but I don’t think she fully appreciates the level of sarcasm in my tone. I try to get a closer look at her computer screen so I can ruin another answer or two for her, but she manages to turn off the screen before I can see anything clearly enough to read. “Have a seat,” she says in a less than pleasant tone. “You’ll be on in a few minutes.” I’d love to continue to focus on my annoyance at this rude human being, but my phone starts to ring. “Hello?” I answer, again making the rookie mistake of not looking at who’s calling. “Hey, I’m going to need 50,000,” Ben says. “I’m going to need it by tomorrow.” I may have switched my focus, but annoyance may have played a fair part in my immediate response. “You’re out of your goddamned mind,” I tell him. “First off, you said you were going to stop calling me, and now you’re telling me that you need fucking 50,000 by tomorrow? You can go fuck yourself, you little piece of shit!” “If that’s the way it’s going to be,” Ben starts. “You said you weren’t going to raise the payments anymore,” I tell him, switching from antagonism as a tactic to guilt. “I don’t know when you’re going to call and you say you need it by tomorrow; things are pretty crazy around here, you know.” “Yeah,” he says, “you see, the problem is that absolutely none of that is my problem. So, you figure out whatever you need to figure out, but I want that money in my account before midnight tomorrow night.” I take a deep breath. It was never the nudity that I had the problem with, really. I mean, I would certainly like to have control over how much of my body is available for the public viewing

consumption, but I’m sure I’m going to have at least a couple of nude scenes during my career. It’s not the same thing, I know, but that part wouldn’t be the end of the world. The problem I have is apparent because I’m naked, but it’s not the nakedness itself. “Fine,” I tell him. “But you’ve got to promise me this is the last time we do this.” “Whatever,” he says. “Just make sure it’s in my account by midnight tomorrow night or those pictures of yours are going to be the only thing trending anywhere.” “I’ll get it done,” I tell him. “Just back off a little now, will you?” “Bye, sweetie,” he says condescendingly. “Have a good day at work.” He hangs up. “Fucking stupid bitch bastard piece of fucking garbage…” I realize that woman’s still sitting there at her desk, only now she’s looking at me with her chin reaching for her knees. “Sorry,” I tell her. “You can call that the bad side of this business.” “I guess,” she says. “What was that about? Is everything all right?” Yeah, now she gives a shit. “I’m fine,” I tell her. “Hey, I was wondering if there was any chance I might be able to pop in there a little early and maybe chat with Tag Strawman—” yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s a pseudonym, “—during the commercial break.” “Yeah,” she says, picking up her phone quickly. “That’s not a problem at all.” I would have imagined that hearing only one side of that conversation would have shown me to be the victim just about as well as hearing the whole conversation would have, but the way she’s acting, it almost seems like she thinks I’m the aggressor. That nice dose of fear really got her moving, though. “You can head on back,” she says. “Here, let me walk you there.”

While I ponder how she could have heard any of what I was saying and find me suddenly intimidating, I follow the woman back to the studio. She doesn’t even wait for the on air light to be off before she opens the door to the studio. “…and hey, look who just came into the studio. It’s the star of what promises to be the hottest summer movie of the year, Emma Roxy. It’s good to have you in the studio,” he says. “How are you doing?” Shit, I think I just talked my way into starting the interview early. There goes my prep. “I’m doing great,” I tell him. “I’m glad to be here.” “I was just talking about how actors in the movie industry genuinely do have things pretty rough in some ways,” he says. “You can’t go out of your house without someone stopping you for an autograph—I mean, that’s never happened to me, but I’ve heard that it’s just irritating.” “It’s not so bad,” I tell him. “Then you’re not that famous,” he says. “I’m tellin’ ya.” Funny guy. “So, have you had that experience yet where you’re out on the town and someone just really starts to bug you—like what’s your thing, what’s the craziest thing that’s happened to you because so many people know who you are now. I mean, you’re still just starting out, have you had that—or there’s something personal about your life you never thought would get out, or…?” He leaves off with the word “or,” so it takes me a couple of seconds to realize that he’s done asking his question. “Yeah,” I tell him. “There hasn’t been a whole lot of that sort of thing for me yet. Most of the people that I meet are just really nice people who think it’s cool to meet

someone they’ve been hearing about, you know. It’s really, very flattering, very humbling.” “Didn’t you just kind of contradict yourself there?” he asks. “Flattering builds you up, being humble means to recognize your lowness.” “Well, it’s kind of both,” I tell him. “It’s flattering that people see me and want to talk to me or wave to me when they pass me on the street or whatever, but it’s also humbling because I’m just a redheaded chick from the Midwest, you know. If anything,” I tell him, “I guess it’s been kind of surreal.” “Well, that’s good,” he says. “Hang onto that. A lot of the people I talk to come in here and they’re talking about fans that are showing up on their doorstep or doing all these crazy things—I talked to Aaron Wills a while ago and he said there was a huge fallout on his social media when he announced that he preferred Chinese food to American food. It’s so crazy. People were talking about boycotting his work and all this.” “It’s weird what people choose to care about,” I tell him. “If anything, that’s what I’ve noticed. Things that wouldn’t even be a big deal if it was just someone you knew, but if it’s happening to this celebrity or that, it seems like that can sometimes get a little out of hand.” “It sounds like you’re talking from experience there,” he says. “Not really,” I tell him. “Like I said, most of the people I’ve met have been—” “Notice how she says most of the people there?” Tag asks the unseen masses. “—they’ve been really great,” I finish. “I see,” he says. “So what’s it like working on this film? I know you’re no stranger to the busy side of film, but this really is kind of a breakthrough role, isn’t it?” “Well, I think I’m going to wait until the movie’s out and people see it to decide

whether it’s my breakout role or not,” I tell him. “But yeah, it is a different ballgame. There are some similarities, but a lot of differences.” “Has it been difficult to adjust?” Tag asks. “Not really,” I tell him. “Damian kind of found me the first day and he offered to be my mentor, so that was pretty cool.” “That’s Damian Jones?” he asks. “He offered to be your mentor, huh?” “Yeah,” I answer. “To be honest, I thought he was a bit full of himself at the time, but getting to know him, he’s a really great guy.” “So you’d say you have a good relationship with Damian Jones on and off the screen,” he says. “That’s a great question,” I tell Tag. “You should ask him, because I have no idea what kind of relationship we…” With absolutely no illusion that the on air light is off, I still look up at it. When I look back, Tag is sitting there looking like he just won the lottery. “So maybe it’s a little more than just an offscreen friendship?” Tag asks. Oh shit. I didn’t want this to get out, and I know this isn’t going to help Damian decide anything positive about our relationship. Maybe I can walk it back. “No, just,” I start, “we tease each other a lot on set and so it’s hard to know if he’s going to be serious Damian or funny Damian or…” “Yeah, but that’s not what you said,” Tag responds. I’m really starting to hate this guy. “I said that I don’t know what kind of relationship we have,” I try again, “because you

never know which Damian you’re going to get on a given day. Sometimes he’s himself and he’s playing around, other times, he’s in character mode, you know.” “How long has this been going on?” he asks, “your relationship with Damian Jones.” “Our relationship—our friendship started not too long after we started filming. The whole cast, really are great—” He interrupts, “So you’re going to deny that there’s any kind of sexual relationship between you and Damian Jones, right here in front of thousands of listeners.” It really doesn’t sound like a question. “We’re coworkers,” I tell Tag. “We get along; that’s all I’m saying.” “Well, hopefully we can get Damian Jones in here one day to see if he’ll tell us a little more about this relationship the two of you have. Until then, we’ve got to take a quick commercial break. I’m talking with Emma Roxy, star of the new film with her possible lover, Damian Jones. When we get back, we’ll see if we can get Emma to open up a little bit more about her relationship with Damian Jones. This is KTNA,” he says. The interview was supposed to go from 4 o’clock to 4:15, but I got in this room at 3:50 and it looks like he’s going to keep me for the whole fucking set. Being early has just bought me 10 more minutes dodging questions about my relationship with Damian. I don’t want people to think that I’m only in this movie because I’m sleeping with Damian, but even more than that, I don’t want to feel like that’s the only reason I am where I am, and it’s really starting to get harder and harder to avoid. “Well, that was a segment for the archives,” he says. “I’m sorry I pestered you so much there, but you’ve got to understand what that kind of insight is when you do what I do. I couldn’t just let it slide.” “I didn’t even say anything,” I tell him. “I didn’t even get to finish my sentence and

then you saw whatever you wanted to see in what little you didn’t interrupt.” I’m hoping that’s going to work. “Yeah, well, either way,” he says, “we’ve already brought up the topic, and I don’t know if you can see these flashing lights from where you are, but that is every line to the radio station in use, and I’m willing to bet that every single one of them is calling to ask you about your relationship with Damian Jones.” “I’m done talking about it,” I tell him. “If you ask me any more about it, I’m not going to answer.” Maybe I should have threatened to walk out, but I’m still hoping to do a little damage control and I can’t do that if I make the threat too much to follow through with. “I won’t ask about it again,” he says. I should know that’s not the end of it, but stupid me, I just say, “Thank you.” The commercial ends and Tag gets back on the microphone. “And we’re back with Emma Roxy. Now we’re going to go to the phones and get some of your questions for our guest.” I really should have seen that coming. “It looks like we’ve got Marley from Las Cruces on the phone. Hi, Marley. What’s your question for Emma Roxy?” he asks. What an asshole. “Yeah,” Marley from Las Cruces says, “I was calling about that thing you said about you and Damian. Like, is he a good kisser?” This is going to suck. I get through the interview all right, I guess, but every single question is about

Damian. It wasn’t even that bad a slip of the tongue, but when people are already looking for something, they have a tendency to find it pretty quick. Once the interview’s over and we’re back at commercial, Tag claps his hands and says, “That was great. I bet that’s the best ratings we get all month.” “Yeah, thanks,” I tell him, and walk out of the room. Maybe I should be a little less obvious in regard to how pissed I am at this fuckhead right now because there’s a good chance he tells his listeners if I’m not, but I really just want to get the hell out of here and it needs to happen right now. When I finally get home, I gather my courage and look at my phone. Forty-seven missed calls. For a period lasting no longer than an hour, that’s a personal record for me. I look through the missed calls for one name in particular, but it’s heartwarming to know that so many people I know were listening in. Really, that’s what I’m taking out of this. I’m not being sarcastic. Seriously. Right, well, bullshit aside, I find the name that I was looking for and I press the screen to call him back. “Hey, so we’re coming out of the relationship closet, huh?” Damian asks as he answers the phone. “I’m sorry about that,” I tell him. “I said one stupid thing and then the DJ wouldn’t let go of it and the callers just made it worse. I really am sorry, I didn’t mean for it to go that way.”

“It had to happen sooner or later,” he says. “I bungled the fuck out of a scene today, and afterward, Tammy came up to me to inform me there’s a rumor going around about us.” “Yeah, she told me about that too,” I say. “Yeah, so all things considered, I guess it was inevitable. Still, it would have been nice if we’d actually gotten to make that decision ourselves, but I can think of worse things than being in a relationship with you,” he says. There’s a knock on my door. “I’m actually kind of surprised to hear that,” I tell him as I get up from my chair and walk toward the entryway. “This morning, it didn’t seem like you were open to any kind of discussion, much less a solid decision.” “I guess I just needed a little push,” he says. “But you know about Danna and you know that there are going to be times when I’m going to have to be with her and help her and stuff, so really, we may as well have come out with this already.” Okay, that’s a little irritating. “I really wish we could have gotten this far this morning,” I tell him, and unlock the deadbolt. “If we’d come to some sort of understanding, Tammy’s gossip thing probably wouldn’t have been on my mind so much and I wouldn’t have been so irritated with the girl at the desk and… I would… Damian, I’m going to have to call you back,” I tell him, and hang up the phone. “Want me to come over?” he asks. “You’re probably in for a shitstorm.” “Yeah,” I tell him. “I think you’re right about that.” I’ve opened the door, and standing on the other side waiting for me to answer is the last person in the world that I want to see.

No, it’s not Ben. It’s my father. “What are you doing here?” I ask. “I told you that I didn’t want to see you again.” “Now is that any way to greet your old man,” he says, stinking of the same cheap whiskey he used to drink when I was growing up. “You didn’t drive, did you?” I ask. “No,” he says, “took a cab. People around here drive like they’re taking acid or promethazine or something.” “Promethazine?” I ask. “I think that’s an allergy pill.” “Whatever,” he says. “Whatever they’re on, they’re on something.” “Well, that’s great and it’s been a lovely chat, but I think it’s time you got back on the road now,” I tell him. “You don’t want to run into traffic.” I wouldn’t mind it if traffic were to run over him, but that wish doesn’t get answered. I’ve tried. “Listen,” he says, “I know you and I’ve had our bad times, and I know I had somethin’ to do with that, but I always taught you that family comes first, now didn’t I?” “What do you want, Dad?” I ask. “See, that’s the thing,” he says. “I’ve been doin’ real well at the factory lately—even got a promotion. Thing is, Jandi–” that would be the evil stepmother if we’re going to use such terms, “—needed this new car for work, and I didn’t know she was going to go for the shorter financing period and we just got into this new place and the mortgage payment’s been out of control, and well, things are gettin’ a little tight.” “You came all the way out here to ask me for money because you and your wife can’t

budget?” I ask. “Get the hell off my property,” I tell him. “Look, now we ain’t always gonna have each other,” he says. “A dad and a daughter have a special kind of bond, and I want you to know that I’ve been seeing a therapist, and he’s really helped me see where I’ve gone wrong in the past—” “I’m glad to hear it,” I interrupt. “Now, get the hell off of my property and do not come back.” “I’ll go,” he chuckles. “I just figured that maybe after all these years, you’d’ve learned that family still means somethin’ to some people. With that rich boyfriend ya got, I bet you’re just cleanin’—” “Is that why you’re here?” I ask. “You heard that thing on the radio?” “Nah,” he says. “I heard that on the cab ride from the airport. Handsome fella, ain’t he. Don’t seem too bright, though.” “You know,” I sigh, “for someone who says things like ‘don’t seem too bright,’ you’d think your gauge of another person’s intelligence would be a bit more modest.” “I’ll be at the Steam Hills Motel if ya wanna get in touch,” he says. “I got the room all week.” “Funny how you have the money to travel across the country to beg me for more money, but you don’t have enough to take care of your own bills,” I scoff. “Just missed it by a hair,” he says, and he walks off into the night. I go back inside and lock the door. This has got to be the most fucked up, surreal day of my life. When Damian shows up, I’ve already forgotten that he was coming over. “Hey,” I mutter, answering the door.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you all right? You sounded a bit wound up over the phone.” “You could say that,” I tell him. I go on to tell him how my dad showed up asking for money and how he’s staying at the Steam Hills Motel. “You know,” he says, “I don’t know about the money and all that, but it might be a nice gesture to have him stay at your place while he’s in town.” “That is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” I snap. “Easy there,” he says. “I’m just saying, you know, he came all this way. It might be nice to have family stay with you for a little bit.” “That’s not an option,” I tell him. “No way am I going to let that happen.” “I take it you and your dad don’t get along so well, huh?” he asks. “Brilliant deduction, Inspector Jones,” I answer. “Well, there’s always time to fix that,” he says. “I don’t want to fix it,” I tell him. “It’s been broken for a very long time and that is exactly how I like it.” “You know, I’ve been seeing my ex-former-almost-father-in-law,” he says. “Ever since I met the guy, he has hated me. Well, it’s not perfect or anything, but we’re actually making some progress. I mean, we’re in the same room and we’re making small talk. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.” “Could you let this drop?” I ask. “I’m not looking for a happy reunion with my father. That’s the end of the story.” “Okay,” he says. “Why?” “It’s not really any of your business,” I tell him.

“Haven’t you been listening to the radio?” he asks. “Apparently, I’m your boyfriend.” “Oh, will you just stop it with that?” I snap. “I know that I screwed up and I know you wanted to spend however long avoiding that particular decision, but it happened, I can’t change it, and let’s talk about something else. Clear?” “What is with you today?” he asks. “I know you’re stressed, but jeez—” “I shouldn’t have had you come over,” I tell him. “I’m really not in the mood to see anybody and it’s not your fault, but I think you should probably just go.” He crosses his arms. “So you’re kicking me out, huh?” he asks. “If that’s how you need to take it then yes, I guess I am kicking you out,” I tell him. “You know,” he says, “I came over here because I thought you might like to talk about what happened today. I’ve seen this kind of thing happen before, and I wanted you to know that I’d stand with you over the next few weeks while the story goes through the papers and all that.” “That is very sweet of you to come to me in my time of tabloid nightmare, but I really think I’ve got this handled for tonight, so I’ll talk to you later,” I tell him. “What did he do to you?” Damian asks. I cross my own arms. “I thought we were changing the subject to me kicking you out,” I tell him. “Seriously,” Damian says, “what happened that made you hate the guy so much? I’m sure he deserves it, but what could he have done to bring out this anger in you?” “Could I possibly make it any clearer that I don’t want to talk about this?” I ask. “I just think it might help if you get it off your chest,” he says. “I know that when

something’s really bothering me—” “My dad was a fucking child abuser!” I yell. Damian’s quiet a moment. “You mean like—” he starts. “No,” I tell him, “nothing sexual, nothing like that. He never even touched me. It was my brothers that got the beatings. Me, he’d just lock me in my room all day and any time he would let me out, he would constantly tell me what a useless little girl I was. My brothers, though…” “I’m sorry,” Damian says in a solemn tone. “Yeah,” I tell him, “so am I. Maybe you understand, maybe you don’t, but I don’t want him anywhere near my home. And with Ben today and the picture and those bruises…” I trail off, sucked into the numbing vortex that is my personal hell. “Bruises?” Damian asks. I come out of it quick enough. “We’ve both had a long day and I think we’ve talked enough,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I really don’t want to talk about any of that right now. You’re welcome to stay if you can live with that.” “Well, as your boyfriend—” he starts. “Get out,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I can absolutely live with that.” I give him a good once-over, looking for any tells, but I’m not seeing any. My dad doesn’t want money; he wants to reassert his dominance now that it’s starting to look like I might not be such a failure. Damian’s making progress with his ex-not-quite-

or-almost-father-in-law or whatever, and that’s great. Good for him. I just don’t need someone like Shane Roxy—surprised that’s my real name? — anywhere near my life.

Chapter Twelve Falling Under Damian You wouldn’t believe how quickly a person can go from being potentially famous to a household name. I’d never tell her this, but I’m finding it quite entertaining to watch all of the speculation about our relationship. Why anyone cares is still beyond me, but they seem to care quite a bit. They’re even showing some of her old movies on network television now. Hilarious. Things are still weighing on my mind after the altercation with Emma last night, but I’m centered, focused, and absolutely prepared to go make a polished turd. That’s when I see the horde of reporters outside Emma’s gate. Well, that should thicken the plot for the viewers at home. I couldn’t remember the code to Emma’s gate, so I parked on the street last night. If I’d gotten up a little earlier, I could have just caught a ride with Emma and maybe I could have avoided what I’m about to do, but que sera, sera. “Damian!” thirty voices yell almost simultaneously. I smile and I just keep walking forward. If you lose your cool with them, they tend to run the clip simply out of spite.

“Damian, so are you having a sexual relationship with Emma Roxy, and if so, do you think this is going to affect your ability to act in your upcoming movie together?” a random voice shouts as I open the gate, push my way through, and make sure it’s latched behind me. “I think relationships between two people are the business of those two people,” I answer. “I can tell you that filming is going very well and we are all very excited to show you what we’ve come up with. It’s really got quite a bit of heart.” It means absolutely nothing and they just eat that shit up. “Heart.” Right. “So you’re confirming that you do, in fact, have a relationship with Emma Roxy?” another one from the herd shouts out as I try to navigate my way to my car. “I’m confirming that it’s nobody’s business whether I do or don’t have a relationship with Emma,” I answer. For whatever reason, Emma still wants to downplay this whole thing. I really don’t know why. I’ve come around. “Do you think that—” someone else starts, but I’ve had enough. “I’ve got to get to work,” I interrupt, and finally succeed in making it through the herd and to my car door. “How do you think this relationship is going to affect Emma Roxy’s career?” someone asks. “I hope her career is judged by her strength as an actress and not who she spends time with,” I answer, and I open the car door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I get in, and though the reporters are kind enough to let me through, they don’t seem too happy about it. I’m actually not on my way to work right now. I should probably get there sooner

than later, but I need to stop by home and check on Danna. For the most part, she’s recovered from her relapse, but she still tires pretty easily and I haven’t been home to make sure that she has everything she’s going to need for the day handy. She gets frustrated a lot, but that’s just part of the process. I get home and Danna’s standing on a chair, reaching for something on the top cabinet in one of the kitchen cupboards. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, rushing in to—I don’t know, catch her if she falls? I just know that she shouldn’t be up there and doing that when she’s this fresh off an episode. “Calm down, little bro,” she says. “I just needed coffee.” “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I should have gotten back earlier so I could make sure it was made and—” “I’m really feeling a lot better,” she says. “I know it’s not good to overdo it, but I do need to start getting up and moving a little bit more or else I’m just going to have a harder time later on. You should start looking for a fill-in for me, though. What was it with the last guy?” “He suggested that I try out to be on the cast of The Lion King on Broadway. He seemed convinced it was a brilliant idea,” I answer. “He was a moron.” “You’ve got to figure something out,” she says. “You would be surprised how many people call for you and want you to do things. It really is a full-time job keeping track of it all.” “I’m sure that whenever you’re feeling up to coming back,” I tell her, “that you’ll be able to pick it back up and get caught up in no time.” “Oh hell no,” she says. “Whatever’s not getting done right now is simply not getting

done. I’m not going to go back through every missed call to ask the person on the other end what they wanted. That’s amateur hour.” “So you’re saying that right now, I’m basically functioning as if I don’t have an agent at all?” I ask. “Pretty much,” she says, finally snatching the coffee from the top shelf. “Just leave that out on the counter,” I tell her. “Why?” she asks. “Is it because I’m too sick and weak to get it down otherwise?” “No,” I answer. “Usually, people explain their reasoning,” she says. “You know,” I tell her, “if I’m getting along this well without an agent, maybe I should start saving that 15 percent. You know,” I continue, “have something for when I’m all old and disgusting and nobody wants to hire me because the only time I ever come up in conversation anymore is, ‘Hey, remember when Damian Jones didn’t look like a dumpster fire,’ and the other person says, ‘No,’ and they laugh about it—with what I’d save from not paying you, I could simply withdraw from public life completely and live in the mountains with a whiskey still and a shotgun.” “That does sound like the dream,” she says, “but if I left your career in your hands, you wouldn’t have a career for me to put back together.” “Your faith in me has always been inspiring,” I tell her. “I care about people,” she says. “It’s what I do.” Danna’s always been this way, whatever way one might say that is. It used to be that she was taking care of me, but that was a long time ago under very different circumstances.

Growing up in my house was a pretty rare thing from what I’m told. My parents loved each other and we were a relatively normal, happy family. Dad and Mom were the classic romantics. He met her after he came back from the war that she was protesting. He’d never really thought about whether or not the war was a just thing or an unjust thing; he’d simply been called to serve in the military, and so he went. They ran into each other later in the afternoon that he walked by the big protest she’d organized and he recognized her. The two of them told the story often enough that I can still remember how they said the conversation went. She was in a diner that day and he walked in and saw her. She was sitting at the counter eating blueberry waffles in a bowl. The bowl was necessary for the amount of syrup in which they were swimming. “Hey, you were talking at that big anti-war rally today, weren’t you?” he asked. She looked up with a spoonful of waffle and syrup and said, “Yeah. What they’re doing isn’t right.” “I’m a soldier,” he said. “Does that mean that we’d never be able to get along?” She looked him up and down and said, “I thought military guys knew how to shave.” That’s the point in the story where my parents would always start laughing and squeezing each other a little bit. They used to go out, every anniversary, and they’d have dinner at the same diner where they first met. Then, one night when I was 15, they went out for their anniversary dinner and they

didn’t come back. To be honest, I didn’t really notice until after midnight. I’d been out partying with friends, and I was stoned when I got home and Danna met me at the door. She was crying, and at first I couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell me. When I finally got what she was trying to say, my head cleared pretty fucking quick. “They were walking to their car,” she sobbed. “Someone in the diner said they saw a man run up to them with a gun in their faces. Damian,” she said, her voice quivering, “they’re dead.” It didn’t make sense. It still doesn’t make sense. We would go on to learn that the mugger had told my dad and mom to give him all their money, but when they’d given him everything they had, he just pointed the gun at my mother and said, “Sweet dreams.” I know what he said because they caught the mugger. He was very proud of himself. My dad had thrown himself in front of my mother and caught the bullet that man meant for her. During sentencing, the man described the scene, saying, “It was really kind of touching that he would give his life for her. I almost felt bad putting that second bullet into her while he was bleeding out.” He got a life sentence. There’s a reason my career was silent when I was a teenager, and there’s a reason why family is such an important thing to me. Sometimes, the people you love—sometimes they’re just gone and that’s that. The last conversation you had with them is the last conversation you’ll ever have with them and there’s nothing that you can do about it. That’s why I owe so much to Danna. I’d still take care of her just because she’s my sister and my twin and she’s sick, but

ever since she helped me see the other side of what happened to Mom and Dad, I’ve been very protective of her. Sitting on the couch now, Danna’s talking about something which, even hearing it, I can’t begin to pronounce. “…it’s supposed to make relapses less frequent and less severe,” she says. “It’s really a wonder more people don’t know about it.” “Where do you get this stuff?” I ask. “Oh, my friend Jade knows the holistic healer that discovered it,” she says. “She’s going to introduce me to him tomorrow—he’s coming over here. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m still not quite ready to get out on the town and everything.” “I wish you’d stop doing that,” I tell her. “Doing what?” she asks. “Getting your hopes up every time some charlatan tells you they’ve got the cure for MS,” I tell her. I may be protective of her, but that doesn’t mean that I’m always nice about it. “I never said it was a cure,” she says. “I’m just saying that, you know, if this stuff can even make things a little easier, wouldn’t that be worth it?” “You don’t know what this stuff is,” I tell her. “Of course I do,” she says, “it’s [enter word I cannot pronounce or spell here].” “And where does it come from? Is it a plant or is it some kind of chemical? Have you done any independent research on it to see what kind of effects it might actually have that people other than your friend’s guru have documented?” I ask. “Danna, you can’t keep doing this. Every time something turns out to be a waste of money, it knocks your legs out

from under you, and I’m sick of seeing it.” “It’s not like that,” she says. “Everyone’s body reacts differently.” Danna’s not the hippie type, but after an episode, she’s always on the lookout for something, anything, that might make things easier. I don’t begrudge her that, but at the same time, it’s hard to see her so disappointed. “People’s bodies react differently to some degree,” I tell her, “but something that’s actually as profound a medicine as that crap you’ve already tried doesn’t just work for a handful of people you’ve never met. They work for most people.” “They worked for me a little bit,” she says. “For a few days at least, I think most of them made some kind of difference.” “Yeah,” I tell her, “it’s called the placebo effect.” “Why are you being such a dick about this?” she asks. “I’m not,” I tell her. “I’m just trying to get you to understand that sometimes the answers just aren’t easy. Sometimes there’s just not some secret formula that’s going to make everything in the world better.” “You’re an asshole,” she says, getting up from the couch, “you know that?” “Danna, calm down,” I tell her, but she’s already walking out of the room. I could get up and chase her, but what would be the point? We’re not going to agree on this and we’re going to end up pissing each other off. As long as the stuff she’s taking isn’t actually going to harm her, I’m all right with it in principle, but every time something new doesn’t work out it’s like she just got the diagnosis. The doorbell rings and Danna yells, “I’ll get it!”

I hear the door open and I hear distant voices, but I can’t tell what’s being said or who’s at the door. The door closes after about a minute and I don’t hear anything about it. I get up and find Danna in her room, scrolling through online dating profiles on her computer. “Who was at the door?” I ask. “That actress,” she says. “What’s her name?” “Which actress?” I ask. “The one you’re working with right now,” she says, scratching the back of her head, “the main one.” “Emma?” I ask. “The one that I’m dating?” “Yeah,” Danna says. “She said she came by because you hadn’t been to the set today. She said they’d worked everything out, so you’d be fine, but that she was worried about you.” “Why didn’t you let her in?” I ask. “I wasn’t in the mood for company,” she says. “You’ve kind of spoiled my afternoon.” “Why didn’t you at least let me know that she was at the door?” I ask. “We were talking,” she says. “We were busy.” “What were you talking about?” I ask. Danna smiles. “What did you do?” I ask.

Danna’s a good person, but sometimes she lashes out in some pretty strange and often destructive ways. “I probably shouldn’t have,” Danna giggles, “but when I opened the door and saw that surprised look on her face because it was me she saw and not you on the other side of it, I just had to.” “What did you do?” I ask again. “I was just messing around with her,” Danna says. “Yeah, you were messing around with her because you’re pissed off at me,” I say. “What did you say to her?” “I just told her that I was a long lost love of yours and that we’ve decided to reconnect,” she says. “You’re kidding,” I laugh. “Nope,” she says. “You’re kidding,” I repeat. “She knows I have a sister and that you live with me. She wouldn’t have bought it.” “Yeah, I don’t think she was really remembering the whole twin sister thing when I was talking to her,” Danna says. “After that, I’m thinking about taking up a career in acting, to be honest with you. It was one hell of a performance. I really had her going.” “But you told her that you were just joking, right?” I ask. Danna doesn’t answer. “You told her that you’re my sister, right?” I ask. “Yeah, I was planning to get around to that, but the way she just stormed off, I never had a chance,” she says.

“What the hell is your problem?” I ask. “Things have already been strained with Emma and me. We really didn’t need this right now.” “Well, maybe you’ll think about that the next time you go off on me for trying to find things that might actually help me get better,” she says. Now, this I can’t believe. “What is your problem?” I ask her. “I tell you that stuff that hasn’t worked for you in the past hasn’t worked for you in the past and you use that as an excuse to try and fuck with my relationship—the first relationship I’ve really even had since Jamie.” “This isn’t about that,” Danna says. “I’m sure Emma’s a very nice girl.” I pull out my phone. “I want you to call her,” I tell Danna. “I’ll put in the number, but I want you to explain that you’re my sister and that you were just playing a practical joke on her and then I want you to apologize.” “You can want whatever you like,” Danna says, “but that don’t mean it’s gonna happen.” “Why do you have to make everything more complicated?” I ask her. “Whenever you come across something that’s working or something that people are trying to make work, you’ve just got to shit on it?” “I don’t do that,” she says. “I played one stupid joke and you’re freaking out about it.” “It’s not just one stupid joke,” I tell her. “I am so sick of these little moods you get in when you’re miffed at me.” “Miffed?” she asks. “Who are you, my third grade English teacher?” “Danna, I really didn’t need this right now,” I tell her. “Mrs. Porter!” Danna announces. “That was her name.”

“Yeah,” I tell her, “I know. I was in your class. I want you to apologize and I want you to mean it. Then,” I tell her, “I want you to offer to take her to dinner to show her that you’re really sorry.” “And what, pray tell, are you going to do if I don’t?” she asks. “First off, will you grow up?” I ask. “Second off, I’m starting to think that maybe you living here is going to be a bad idea.” “You’re going to kick me out if I don’t apologize to your girlfriend?” she asks. “Danna, there are things I can help you with and things that I can’t help you with. You’re recovering from your last episode and I think now just might be a good time for us to start looking for a place for you to keep as your own,” I tell her. Would I really kick my sister out of my house? I know I wouldn’t do it for screwing with Emma, although I am pretty pissed about that. If anything, I think I’m just trying to get her to pull her head out of her ass and start listening to me. Phone in hand, I pull up Emma’s number and I press the call button. I hand the phone to Danna and says, “Be nice.” Danna rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah, is this Emma?” she asks. “Yeah, hey, this is Danna, Damian’s sister. I played a bit of a trick on you and it was kind of mean…yeah, that was me. It’s just one of those things where I thought it would be funny, but it ended up going too far, and I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry and that Damian had nothing to do with it.” I tap Danna on the shoulder and whisper, “Dinner.”

Danna rolls her eyes at me again.

Chapter Thirteen Dinner and the Perils of the Trade Emma I’m sitting in the restaurant, and just like with the radio interview, I’ve made the mistake of arriving too early. At least this time, the only consequence is that I have to sit at the table alone for a few minutes. It gives me a little time to reflect on what’s about to happen, though. Danna is Damian’s twin sister, and although she was kind enough to call, apologize, and invite me out to dinner with her and her brother, I really get the feeling that she doesn’t really like me. A joke’s a joke, but it wasn’t too hard to see that the mea culpa was coerced. When the two of them come into the restaurant, I see her first. The guy working the front points Damian and Danna in my direction, and I get ready for whatever’s about to happen. “Hey there,” Danna says, for the first time as herself to me in person. “I’m glad you could make it. Have you been waiting long?” Half an hour. “No,” I answer. I’ve really got to stop getting to things early. It just creates a lot of waiting. We sit down and share a few pleasantries. Danna apologizes again and I pretend like

it didn’t bother me, and that after I found out what was really going on, I found the whole thing really funny. “So, you’re not going to believe this—Damian, I forgot to tell this earlier,” Danna says out of the blue. “Today, you got another letter from that crazy lady,” she says. “Apparently, wedding plans are moving forward.” I smile and chuckle because I don’t know that’s not what I’m supposed to do. “She didn’t leave anything but the note this time, did she?” Damian asks. “No,” Danna says. “She just wrote the whole thing using what may or may not be paint all over the road outside the house. I figured you’d see it when you got home, but I figured it might not be a bad idea if you’ve got a bit of a heads-up about it. She’s starting to sound a little desperate.” “You’re not joking?” I ask. “Sadly,” Damian says, “no. For the last couple of months, there’s been this woman who’s been sending me notes and leaving me weird crap—” “Those flowers were pretty cool,” Danna says. “Yeah, but the bag full of bloody tofu wasn’t,” he says. “Bloody tofu?” I ask. “Flowers? Do you even know this woman?” “No,” Damian says. “She’s never stuck around long enough for anyone to catch her in the act.” “Why wouldn’t you tell me about this?” I ask. “We’ve already taken all of the precautions that we can,” he says. “I just didn’t want to worry you.” “How can I not be worried?” I ask. “You’ve got a stalker.”

I’m starting to feel like a nag again, but I haven’t told you about the phone call I got while I was waiting for Damian and Danna to get here. I’ll give you more on that in a little bit. “She’s very persistent,” Danna laughs. I just ignore her, but Damian seems pretty irritated by his twin’s amusement. “Do they think they’re going to be able to get it off the road or are there going to be pictures of that all over the news tonight?” he asks. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” I tell him. “Why?” he asks. “I’m sure they’ll get rid of it after they’ve taken pictures for evidence and all that,” Danna says. “I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me about this before, Damian,” I say. “I’m not mad or anything, I would just like to know when the guy I’m dating is being harassed by some crazy stalker.” “I think we throw the word ‘crazy’ around all too much these days,” Danna says. “Is there any way you could keep your ridiculous sense of humor to yourself?” Damian asks her. “Hey,” I tell him. “It’s all right. Calm down.” “Well, you two decide what you want. I’m going to pop into the little girl’s room,” Danna says. “Do you want us to order you something if the waiter gets here before you’re back?” I ask. “That’s all right,” she says, and gets up from the table.

“So, how long has she been stalking you?” I ask. “Like I said,” he says, “it’s been a couple of months. She’s been quiet for a little bit, though. I was kind of hoping she’d moved on or something.” “And you’ve never seen her face-to-face?” I ask. “If I have,” he says, “I didn’t know it.” “There’s a creepy thought,” I tell him. We chat a little and when the waiter gets to the table we order our food. We don’t order anything for Danna because she didn’t tell us what she wanted. Come to think of it, she has been in the bathroom for a pretty long time. Danna has MS. Damian told me about that. I wonder if she’s okay. “I’m going to go freshen up while we wait for our meal,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back.” “Okay,” he says. “While you’re in there, would you mind checking on Danna? I’m sure she’s fine and everything, but—is that weird to ask?” “Not at all,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in a minute.” So, I head to the bathroom, only Danna’s not in there. I walk back out and look around the restaurant in case I missed her, but she’s nowhere around. Not really seeing the purpose in checking outside, I walk back to the table. “Is she doing all right?” Damian asks. “She wasn’t in there,” I tell him. “She took off?” he asks. “It would appear that way,” I tell him.

“Fantastic,” he says. “I don’t know what her problem is lately.” “Do you need to go after her?” I ask. “No,” he says. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s just pissed at the world right now, I think. Oh well. Hey,” he says, “things still messed up with your dad?” “No,” I tell him. “And I’d really rather not talk about that.” “All right,” he says. For a few glorious seconds, I think that we’ve moved on and we’re going to spend the rest of the evening discussing other things, but Damian just can’t let go. “I just wanted to let you know that I understand why you wouldn’t want to talk to him,” he says. “But at the same time, that was what, like 10 years ago?” “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him. “Did it go on after that?” he asks. “How old were you when it stopped?” “Damian,” I warn him, “let it go.” “I’m telling you that I understand,” he says. “Only that it might be time to revisit the idea of getting back in touch with him. It doesn’t even have to be on this trip or anything, you could just start calling each other every once in a while, you know, try to rebuild a foundation of trust and—” “Damian,” I say in a very calm, quiet voice, very aware of the fact that after the phone call a few minutes before Damian arrived, people in the restaurant are starting to become much more aware of my presence, “for the love of God, take the hint and drop it. This is not something I want to talk about here and it’s not something I’m going to talk about here. Suffice it to say that my dad didn’t stop damaging the world when he stopped hurting us.”

“Okay,” Damian says. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with the idea of you and your father reconciling.” I glance around and those that aren’t actually staring at me are being nudged by their dinner companions who are. Exactly how something like this spread in a restaurant is beyond me, but there’s no mistaking that I’ve become the focus of the whole place. It’s so bad that even Damian starts to notice it. “I guess we should have thought about whether or not we should do the dining in public thing right now while there’s so much press about us,” he says. “That’s not it,” I tell him. “What is it then?” he asks. “Before you got here, I got a call,” I start. “It was Ben. He told me that he’d already spent the last money I sent him on a down payment for something and that he needed me to send him more. I told him that I was sick of being at his beck and call while he blackmails me, so I told him I wasn’t going to do it.” “What’d he say?” Damian asks. “What do you think he said?” I ask, and casually gesture toward the sea of faces that are looking between their phones and me. “They’re out there?” he asks. “Yeah,” I tell him. “When did this happen?” he asks. “I told you,” I said, “not long before the two of you got here. I’m glad you were a little late, though,” I continue. “It gave me a chance to call the police on the

motherfucker.” “This is really happening, huh?” he asks. “Yep,” I tell him and smack my lips. “Before you see the pictures,” I tell him, “there’s something I think I should prepare you for.” “I don’t think there’s much of you I haven’t seen,” he says loudly enough for people at the surrounding tables to pick it up and jump into hushed conversations. Apparently, he figures there’s enough going on already that the story of two actors bumping uglies isn’t going to be that big of a deal. I don’t think he’s right, but at this point, I just don’t even care anymore. “Bruises,” I tell him. “You haven’t seen me covered in bruises.” The violence my dad never gave to me when I was a kid, I got from Ben. “He hit you?” Damian asks. “Yeah,” I answer, “a lot. That’s going to be the story. I’m going to be the only celebrity in the fucking world who gets naked pictures leaked and nobody’s going to give a shit about the naughty bits. Everyone’s going to be looking at the bruises.” “But that’s tantamount to him admitting to the assault,” he says. “Yeah,” I say, “I guess so, but I think blackmail is going to be the heftier charge.” “Are you okay?” he asks. “I’m not great,” I tell him. “I’m not looking forward to any of what’s going to come next, but it’s really too late to worry about that now. What’s done is done and there’s not a damn thing that either of us can do about it now.” I don’t know if this is the nicest restaurant in the city or not, but it’s not the kind of place where anyone can just walk in out of the gutter and get a table. There’s a dress code

here, and a certain conduct is expected of those who dine here. None of that, though, seems to have any effect on the 30-something man who comes over to the table where I’m sitting with Damian, pulls out his phone, and takes a picture of me. The man sees that I’m looking at him and he says, “Sorry. You’re Emma Roxy, right?” “You’re the one with the picture,” I answer. “You tell me.” “Do you think I could get a picture with just the two of us?” he asks. It’s all I can do to keep Damian in his seat. * * * I get the call an hour after Damian and I leave the restaurant that Ben’s been apprehended, and they want me to come by and take a quick look through the glass to make sure they’ve got the right guy. If it’s what they need to screw him to the fucking wall, I’m happy to do it. Damian, bless him, won’t leave my side even when I’m walking into the police station and identifying the jackass who tried to ruin my life twice and get away with it. They take Ben away, and even knowing there’s going to be a trial and I’m going to have to testify and everything, it already feels like so much is already done. The fact that he’s nowhere he can get to me is enough for now. Damian was right about one thing: leaking the photos was a stupid idea. I don’t know

if he didn’t think I would call the police if he let the pictures slip or not, but now that everyone in the world is seeing either blurred or explicit shots of me covered in scrapes and bruises. That weekend, Ben told me at the time, was to make up for what a child he’d been a few days before. He was referencing our “discussion” that put those bruises on me, and while he told me that he wanted to take those pictures because of “how sexy” he thought I looked, I knew why he was really taking them. He wanted a reminder of just how much power he had over me. He wanted something he could throw in my face if I ever went so far as to defy him. Well, now I’ve defied him, and that picture is in everyone’s face and it’s going to go a long way toward influencing whatever jury he ends up with. For the first time in my life, I’m actually not ashamed about those bruises. “You’re going to have to make a statement at some point,” Damian says. “I know,” I tell him. “It would have been better if you could have gotten in front of this before he sent out those pictures, but—” he stops. “I think things are going to be all right,” he says. “Yeah,” I answer. This is my first real movie. This is my first one. When people talk about me from now on, they’re going to be talking about those pictures. Maybe that won’t always be the case, but that’s my immediate future, at least. This isn’t how I wanted people to know my name. Damian’s trying to be helpful, I know that, and I’m sure, over the next weeks or

however long this lasts, he’s going to be. Right now, though, I wish he were a little steadier on his feet. We eventually decide that the best course of action is to write up a statement, phone it in to a couple of people to make sure it sounds good, and then call a press conference. Damian asks me if I want him to say anything, but I tell him this is something I should really do alone. So, before the late news, we’ve finished up a draft that sounds reasonable, and I give a call to my agent and a couple of other people whose calls I haven’t returned until now. With a few minor changes here and there—primarily cosmetic, nothing to change the substance—we put the thing in motion. Me, I have no idea how to call a press conference. I don’t even know where one would start with that. This is where Damian comes in handy. Within an hour of finishing up the statement, I’m walking out the front gate of my driveway to a podium that someone, although I couldn’t tell you who, has already set up. Damian stands behind me to show his support, but that’s the most I would allow. There’s any number of possibilities of how this thing is going to end up going and I don’t want to drag him down with me. He’s innocent in all this. “Good evening,” I say into the microphone, and try to keep my eyes fully open despite the multiple bright lights in my face. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, I have, up until earlier today, been the victim of blackmail. The man responsible for this has been arrested and charges are being filed. Judging by the response in the media to the release of these pictures, there has been some outcry regarding the state of my body in the photographs, and I would like to thank all of you who’ve shown your support and…” I

trail off. …the state of my body. I clear my throat. “I appreciate your concern. I don’t have too much more to say before I answer a few of your questions directly, but I do want to say that what I went through is not uncommon. It’s not rare, it’s not in sharp decline, it’s not a relic of the draconian past. This happens every day to thousands of women. Thousands. Tonight, the world is talking about me because I’m in these photos and I’m acting in a new movie, but what I think we should all be talking about a lot more often is how we can work to stop the cycle of abuse and protect these women who are, so many of them, afraid for their lives. Not all of them make it out on their own. I think the least we can do is try to make it easier for these women to find their freedom. Thank you. I will now take your questions.” There are so many flashes of light and shouting voices, that for a few seconds, I’m just frozen there, overwhelmed by the sensory input. My heart is racing as I point to one of the reporters. “How long were you being blackmailed?” he asks, “and are there more pictures?” “To my knowledge, there are no more pictures, although if there are, I would imagine the police will take care of them,” I answer. “Take care of them?” the reporter asks. “Evidence,” I answer. “I would imagine they’d take care of anything like that as new evidence, although I certainly don’t speak for the police and am largely unfamiliar with their procedure in this kind of situation.” Someone else shouts, “Do you think this is going to affect your ability to find work in the entertainment business?”

I have to smile. “I don’t know,” I answer. “I guess that depends on what kind of mood Hollywood is in that day.” A few of the reporters snicker, and the rest of them shout follow-up questions. “When were these pictures taken?” “Were you involved in a sexual relationship with the man who blackmailed you, if so, when did it end, or are the two of you still an item?” That’s my favorite question of the bunch, but I’m not about to answer it. Calm, cool, and only tell them what you’re prepared to tell them and what you have to tell them. That’s the advice Damian gave me when we finished the draft. When one reporter asks me if I have any scars, and if so, would the press be allowed to photograph them, I find it a little difficult to remain calm and cool and as far as only telling him what I’m prepared to tell him and what I have to tell him…there’s a lot I’d like to tell him. The press conference drags on and I answer questions as best I can. No, this wasn’t the first time he had physically abused me. Yes, I did give him an amount of money; no I didn’t pay him off completely. This whole exercise is dragging on into its 20th minute and I’m doing my best to hang in there, to answer as many questions as possible and try to limit speculation and thus, hopefully facilitate the whole thing to blow over just a little quicker. Finally, at about the point where I’m seriously questioning whether there’s going to be any lasting damage to my cornea because that jerkoff in the back can’t figure out how to light me without blinding me, I say, “One more question.”

I’ve just had enough. “Yes,” one reporter asks. “Did you find it sexually arousing to be photographed like that?” “I’m sorry, who are you working for?” I ask. “I’m freelance,” he says. “No,” I tell him. “I did not find it sexually arousing to have my abusive boyfriend-atthe-time commemorate the savage beating he’d given me, but go to hell for asking.” “Okay, that’s going to be all,” Damian says, jumping in, only they just start asking him questions instead of me. He has a way, though, of not saying anything no matter how many people are trying to get him to talk. It’s miraculous. “Thank you for coming,” Damian says. Damian leads me back through the throng and back to my house as some of the reporters try to slip one last question in. When we get back into my house and the front door is closed behind us, I just sit with my back against the door and cry.

Chapter Fourteen The Baton Damian It’s only been a couple of hours since the press conference, and Emma’s starting to calm down. Although we both knew that this press conference would likely be the most difficult part of the process, neither of us expected the questions to be so thoughtless. She’s in the living room, trying to clear her head with a movie and I’m in the kitchen trying to find the liquor when the doorbell rings. “Could you get that?” she calls. “I’m really not in the mood to see anyone right now.” “Yeah,” I call back. I drop what I’m doing and go to the door. Opening it, there’s an older man standing on the other side of the door. “Can I help you?” I ask. “You’re that actor fella, aren’t ya?” the man asks. “I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask. “I’m Shane,” the man says. “Shane Roxy.” “You must be Emma’s father,” I respond. This should be interesting. “That’s right,” the man says. “If ya don’t mind, I need to talk to my daughter.”

“She’s been through a rough day and she’s resting now,” I tell him. The way it comes out, it sounds like she’s just gotten out of the hospital. “I’d be happy to let her know that you stopped by.” “If I could just talk to her for a minute,” Shane, Emma’s father, says. “I really don’t think that right now is a good time,” I tell him. “I’m sorry.” “Now, just who in the hell do you think you are, young man?” Emma’s father asks. “Boy, you’d better get my daughter or—there you are, sweetheart,” he says, and I turn around to find Emma coming to the door. “What are you doing here?” she asks. “I told you I didn’t want to see or talk to you again.” “Young man, if you don’t mind giving us a minute…” Shane says. I look over at Emma and she gives me a slight, but clear, shake of the head. “I don’t think I will,” I tell him. “You know,” Shane says, looking past me at Emma, “I saw that press conference. It was all over the television.” “Glad you tuned in,” Emma says. “Now get the fuck away from me.” “That’s quite a tone for a woman to take with her father,” Shane says. “Look,” I tell him, “we’ve both asked you to go and I would hate to have to call the police. Why don’t we just end the conversation now and we can end this peacefully?” “Are you threatening me, boy?” Shane asks, and I’m actually rather amused by the way this guy is talking to me. “I’m not threatening anyone,” I tell him. “I just think it’s for the best that—” “You know, I think it says a lot about you, Emma,” Shane interrupts, “that you’re

willing to let those vile pictures of you out into the world, but you can’t see it in your heart to talk to your own flesh and blood.” “I’m not going to tell you again,” Emma says. “Get off of my property and stay away from me.” I can see a little of both sides here. On the one hand, Emma has every right to dismiss her father, especially after how he was when she was growing up. On the other hand, the guy just wants to talk to her. Still, if sides are to be taken, I’m on hers. “You’re willing to talk to a bunch of reporters about how you got those photos taken of you by your boyfriend,” Shane says, “but you’re not willing to talk to your father. I always knew you’d end up a whore.” My fists are clenched and one arm is already cocking back when Emma gets between me and her father. I would love to punch the guy until my fist goes through the back of his skull, but Emma’s right to stop me. That’s not going to solve anything. “Well, looks like the pretty boy’s got a temper,” Shane says, and I scoff. Exactly what happens next is a bit of a blur. I call Shane a sick son of a bitch and tell him to leave. He starts yelling at me and the next thing I know, there’s a flash and my right eye feels like it’s about to pop like a stepped-on cherry tomato. I’ve never actually been punched before. “Get the fuck out!” Emma is screaming, and I’m already throwing punches back. A couple of them connect, and as Shane staggers back, he finally seems to take the hint. He turns and runs back to his car parked outside the gate, speeding off a few seconds later. “Are you all right?” Emma asks.

“I gotta be honest,” I tell her. “I don’t think your dad likes me.” She laughs. “That’s usually the sign of a decent character,” she says. “How’s the eye?” I’m actually not feeling it right now. With all the adrenaline going through me, I can feel an increase of pressure where that fuckhead gave me his cheap shot, but if there’s any pain, I don’t notice it. “It’s not so bad,” I tell her. “How does it look?” “You’re going to have a shiner,” she says. “Dutch is going to be thrilled.” “Do you think there’s any way we could maneuver me getting punched by your dad into a good thing in the press?” he asks. “If it’s all the same to you,” she says, “I’d rather just forget any of this even happened.” “You should really get a better gate,” he says, “maybe one that latches and won’t open unless the person on the other side puts in a code or something.” “Yeah,” she says, “I’ll call tomorrow. Until then,” she continues, “let’s get some ice on that thing.” I follow Emma into the kitchen and she pulls an ice pack out of the freezer. “You know,” I tell her, “I’ve never been in a fight before.” “You did pretty well,” she says. “You didn’t knock him out or anything, but you got some pretty solid blows in there.” I chuckle, saying, “I just beat up your dad.” “I think beat up might be a bit of an overstatement,” she says with a smile, “but if he hadn’t run off like a bitch, I have no doubt you could have taken him.”

The adrenaline must be on its way out, because the area around my eye is beginning to throb. “Just hold still,” she says, and leans in close to inspect the eye. “You’ve got a little cut,” she says. “Do I?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s nothing to worry about—the thing really is pretty small. We’ll just get that cleaned and get a bandage on it and then we’ll see about taking care of that swelling.” I shrug. I’m not going to lie: I feel like a bit of a hardass right now. Yeah, I know I took the first punch, but I jumped right in there, and if it weren’t for the twin forces of Emma trying to talk me down and Shane getting the hell out of there, I might have done some serious damage. They say you never really know yourself until you’ve been in a fight, and I think I did all right. That’s pretty cool. I wait at the kitchen table while Emma goes out of the room to find some bandages. She comes back with a plastic basket filled with first aid stuff. “You might have to help me find the antibiotic stuff,” she says. “It’s been a while since I’ve been through here.” We take a minute and pull out a box of bandages and some triple antibiotic ointment. When Emma pulls out the alcohol, though, I start to get a little nervous. “What’s that for?” I ask. “It’s for your cut,” she says. “We need to make sure it’s clean before we bandage it, otherwise it might get infected.”

“Isn’t that what that ointment is for?” I ask. “It’ll just take a second,” she says. I would much rather run at top speed into the side of a cement building than have alcohol poured on a cut. There’s a difference between dull pain and sharp pain, and what she’s about to do is on the razor’s side. “I really think the ointment’s going to be enough,” I tell her. “Don’t tell me you’re actually scared of a little antiseptic,” she says. “Big, strong guy like you—that’s got to be pretty embarrassing.” “Say what you want,” I tell her. “I don’t even care. That shit hurts.” “You just got punched in the eye!” she exclaims. “Yeah, and I think I’ve been through enough for the evening,” I tell her. “Fine,” she says. “By the way, this is totally going in my tell-all: the story about how Damian Jones got into a fist fight with my dad, and then, when I went to tend his wounds, he cried like a little bitch.” “Seriously,” I tell her, “I don’t care what you say. Just keep that shit away from me. I fucking hate that feeling.” “It’s only for a second,” she says, and pulls a bag of cotton balls from the basket. “Now hold still. This will only take a minute.” “You went from second to minute pretty quick, there,” I tell her. “Oh, will you just shut up and let me take care of you?” she asks. I’m still not looking forward to the sting that’s coming to me, but something in what she said hits me harder than Shane did. I hold still and I hold my breath, waiting with absolute impatience for the pinprick of

searing pain to be over. “You’re going to need to stop squinting so hard,” she says. “You’re making it impossible for me to get to your cut.” “Sorry,” I answer, and relax my face as much as I can. Emma’s laughing because that’s not a lot. She gets some alcohol on a cotton ball, and before the thing’s even against my skin, I’m already wincing. “You really need to relax,” she says. “Sorry,” I repeat, and as soon as my muscles go lax, that cotton ball is on my skin and I can feel the sharp sting throughout my entire body. “What is your deal?” she laughs. “You barely reacted when he hit you and now you’re all shriveled up because of a little alcohol?” “My mom used to use it on me whenever I got the smallest scrape,” he says. “I always hated it.” “You’ve never really talked about your parents,” she says. “Yeah,” I answer. “They’ve been gone for a while.” “I’m sorry,” she says, finally pulling the cotton ball away from my face. She puts a small bandage over the cut. “Come on,” I smile. “I know you’re a closet Damian Jones fan. You must have already known that.” “I did,” she admits. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” “They were killed in a mugging,” I tell her. “The guy was going to shoot my mom and my dad jumped in front of her, but the guy just shot them both anyway.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “That’s terrible.” “Yeah,” I answer. “I’m just going to grab some ice,” she says, and heads to the freezer. “How are you feeling?” I ask. “After getting punched in the face, I would think it should be me to ask that question,” she says. “My eye’s not so bad,” I tell her. “I’ve been better, obviously,” she says. “I think it’s going to be all right, though. It can’t really be worse than what I was already dealing with.” Emma’s got a couple of blind spots. This can absolutely get worse and it’s probably going to before this is all over. “You should probably keep the television turned off for the next few days,” I tell her. “Yeah, I really don’t want to spend all my time worrying about what people are saying about me,” she says. “I could do without the speculation.” She comes back, carrying a bag of frozen corn. “Looks like I’m out of ice,” she says. “This’ll work just as well, though.” “Okay,” I answer, and she sits down across from me, gently pressing the cold bag against my skin. “I’m so sorry about all of this,” she says. “I wish he would just forget that he’s my father and just leave me alone.” I reach up to take the bag, but Emma doesn’t move her hand when mine touches it. “I’ve got it,” she says. “You just try to relax.”

She’s looking into my eyes—well, my eye, really, with concern on her face. “I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to get away from that man,” she says. “When I was a kid, I’d hide or run to a friend’s house when things got really bad, but now… I don’t know, there just doesn’t seem like there’s anything I can do to get him to leave me alone.” “Have you thought about just paying him off so he’ll go away?” I ask. It’s not a good idea, but it is an option. “I’m not getting sucked back into that,” she says. “I think Ben proved pretty clearly that a person who’s sucking money from you isn’t a person you can trust to leave you in peace.” “Okay,” I answer. She’s running the fingers of her free hand through my hair, and whether it’s the tenderness of the moment or the adrenaline of the last one, I’m starting to find myself incredibly turned on. “What are you doing tonight?” I ask. “I’m planning on locking the doors, unplugging the cable box, and throwing back a couple dozen shots,” she says. “You’re more than welcome to join me.” “All right,” I smile. “You know,” I tell her, “you look beautiful tonight.” She scoffs and says, “I look like shit.” Her hair is a bit disheveled from trying to pull me and her father apart, and her eyes are still a bit puffy from crying after the press conference, but I’m not lying when I say, “Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so attractive.” “Well, thank you,” she says, and pulls the bag of corn from my eye a moment. “How does it feel?”

“It’s not so bad,” I tell her. “The cold is helping.” “That’s good,” she says, and her hand that was going through my hair is now rubbing my back. “I just wish life wasn’t so screwed up,” she says. “Wouldn’t it just be nice if people didn’t try to screw each other?” “Depends on the usage of the word,” I joke. “Clever,” she says. “Okay, not really, but it was the first word that came into my head.” She puts the bag of corn back against my face, and I’m putting my hand on her upper thigh, saying, “I’m sorry all this is happening.” “It is what it is,” she says. “Not much we can do about it but deal with it.” “Yeah,” I respond, and just stare into her bright blue eyes. I catch her gaze and she looks back at me with kind, loving eyes. “You know,” I tell her, “it’s been a pretty rough day.” “Yeah,” she says. “It really has.” “I was thinking maybe I could take care of you, too,” I tell her. “You’re the one that got the fist to the face,” she says and then stops, apparently having realized what I meant. “Oh,” she smiles. My hand already on her leg, I start rubbing her thigh. She takes my other hand and puts it on the bag of corn, freeing both of her hands as she leans forward, and tilting her head far to the right, she leans in and kisses me. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “You don’t have to keep apologizing,” I tell her. “It’s not your fault. Like you said, it just is what it is.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. I take the bag of corn from my eye and set it on the table, taking a quick glance at her skirt so I can plan the best possible approach. “Lean back,” I tell her, and she scoots her butt forward on the chair and reclines a little. My hands come to her knees and I work my way under the fabric and up her legs, coming out of my chair and getting to my knees in the process. I lift her skirt a little and kiss her knees, the start of her thigh. My hands move up her legs and around back down again, and I lift my arms a little to raise the fabric enough to kiss her thighs, and I start to work my way up. Her skirt bunches as I slip it up toward her waist, exposing her smooth legs and the black tanga she’s wearing under the dress. With one hand, she’s running her fingernails over my back, and those fingers curl into me as I part her legs and kiss the area around her pussy. She takes a sharp breath when my lips meet her clit. It’s hard to tell why, but there’s something a little extra erotic about going down on her in the kitchen, moving her skirt instead of removing it. I guide my tongue over her nub and inch a finger inside of her wetness. She groans softly in pleasure as I just revel in her taste. “You’re really good at that, you know,” she says, with hardly any voice to her breath at all. I would answer, but I’m a little busy at the moment. Sure, I’m the one that got punched in the face, but big picture, I think with everything

she’s been through today and the last couple of months with Ben and then with her father showing up, she’s earned a little relief. That’s not to say that I’m getting nothing out of this; quite the contrary. As I move my tongue over her clit and finger her hot, wet center, I don’t know that I’ve ever been this turned on in my life. The skirt is partially over my head as I adore Emma’s body, but she pulls it up the rest of the way, opening the space between her eyes and mine. “I want you inside me,” she says, “but don’t take any clothes off. I’m really loving this whole clothed thing. I’ve never actually had sex with clothes on.” I chuckle and tease her, saying, “Prude.” “What?” she asks through heavy breath. “I’m a prude because I’ve only had sex naked?” she asks. “Ironically,” I answer, “yes,” and I laugh. “Whatever,” she says. “Now stick that fucking thing in me before I change my mind.” I laugh, but I lift my head, though I keep my finger inside her, stirring her soft insides. As I lean back, she leans forward and stands. I stand to meet her. Our arms are around each other and I’m kissing her neck as she pulls down my zipper, and she moans a little as my finger is still inside her. She slowly backs toward her countertop and, when we get to it, she hops onto it. With the front of my pants open, she pulls me out from inside and casually pulls me by the cock, closer to her waiting slit. I move between her legs and right up to her and she’s rubbing my tip against her clit and she’s saying, “Don’t move—oh my God.” She continues to use my bell end to pleasure herself, and she puts an arm around me.

“Like that,” she says. “Do you think you can manage?” “I think I can manage,” I tell her and I take over, my hand guiding the tip of my dick against her bud, and her arms are around me hard and tight and she’s gasping for air. “That’s it,” she says. “I’m almost there…” With a sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever quite heard before, Emma comes harder than I’ve ever seen her come. Really, it’s quite the compliment. She’s clutching at my back and I can feel a rush of warm wetness with my sex. “Ho-ly sh-it,” she whines in a quiet, higher voice. Her body is shaking and it all happens so fast that it takes me a minute to realize what just happened. “Well, I’ve never done that before,” she says, as her hands tense and go lax more slowly now. “How did it feel?” she asks. She giggles. “How did it look like it felt?” “Fair enough,” I answer, and just once more, I run the head of me over her clit before I ease inside of her. She’s so wet that I’m all the way in on the first push. Female ejaculation is a wonderful thing. Inside her, now, I’m off in my own little reality. Everyone says they know when they’ve met someone special because the same things will feel different and everything just gets unexplainably better. To tell you the truth, I always assumed it was one of those lies people tell themselves, but as I move in and out of Emma, all of our clothes still on, I can’t remember ever being so thoroughly gripped by pleasure and affection.

“You feel amazing,” I tell her, and she kisses my lips hungrily. “I’ve never come like that before,” she says. “I think we’re going to have to try doing that again before we’re done.” The amateur move is to immediately agree and go right back to what brought her that feeling, but one should never underestimate the power of surprise. Her shoulders are resting back against the cupboards, and I’m pulling the top of her dress down to expose her breasts, one and then the other. She clutches her breasts in her hands and looks up at me as if to say that she’s ready, and so I pull out and masturbate her with the tip of my cock. “Ohmygod,” she says, pitching forward, and sooner than I would have thought possible, she’s coming again. The floor is wet around me, and I’m trying to keep my head. “You know,” I tell her, “I’ve never been with anyone who could do that.” “You know,” she says, “I had no idea that I could.” I smile and kiss her on the cheek, and as she pulls away, just that look on her face full of nothing but pure enjoyment, absolute satisfaction, fills me up in a way I’ve never experienced, and before I know it, the words are just coming out, “I love you.” “You…what?” she asks, looking up at me as if I just used a phrase with which she’s entirely unfamiliar. I’m just a deer stuck in the headlights.

Chapter Fifteen Flashing Lights Emma He said he loved me. If it’s any consolation, he looks like he regrets it. “We’re still just starting out,” I tell him. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I guess I just got wrapped up in the moment.” “I don’t know what it is with you,” I tell him. “First, you break up with me because you don’t think you can deal with a relationship, and now you’re dropping the L-bomb when I’m trying to get thick and juicy?” “I really don’t know how to respond to that,” he says. I laugh and pat him on the chest. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I tell him. “If I had the chance to get with me, I’d probably be saying it, too.” “It’s nice to see that your ego hasn’t suffered from the event,” he says. “Did you mean it, though?” I ask. “That’s the question.” There are all sorts of ways to turn the screws on him for this. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I don’t love you,” he stammers. “I’m just not sure if I’m where I do…yet.” Do I love Damian Jones?

Before I got to Hollywood, before I got my first acting job, back when all of this was just my teenage wet dream back in Who Gives a Shit, Illinois, I would have immediately responded, “Yes, I love Damian Jones.” The problem with that is that fan love and real love are very different things. The only people who really can’t tell the two apart when they’re right up close are the ones who end up stalking and… “What ever happened with your stalker?” I ask. “You never did tell me about that.” “She still calls,” he says. “I’m thinking about changing my number.” “I thought you would have done that by now,” I say. “How long has she been calling you?” “A few weeks,” he says, and puts his palms over his eyes, “a few months, I don’t even know. It feels like a long time.” “So why wouldn’t you have changed your number already?” I ask. “I like my number,” he says. I snort. “You would rather have a stalker, a crazy woman with an unhealthy, possibly dangerous obsession with you, continue to call you at her leisure because you like your phone number?” I ask. “Well,” he says, “that and…” Whatever it is, it seems like it’s really embarrassing. I probably shouldn’t pursue it any farther. “That and…?” I ask. “Well,” he says, “I don’t know. I guess I wanted her to still be able to call in case the police wanted to, like, trace her number or something.”

I’m putting my breasts back into my top and I’m curled forward, laughing. “Yeah,” he says, not nearly as amused as I am, “that’s about what the police said. Apparently they care a lot less than I thought they did.” “You’d think they’d take a celebrity stalker a lot more seriously in a place like this, huh?” I ask. “Really,” he says. “Anyway, are we good?” “About what?” I ask. I know exactly what he’s talking about. I’m just trying to be breezy. Not knowing how I’m going to respond, that seems like the appropriate response. “You know,” he says, “about what I said earlier.” “Oh, right,” I say. “I’d forgotten about it, to be honest.” “So you wouldn’t say that you feel anything like that for me?” he asks. What are you doing here, boy? “I think that we’re still learning how to be with each other,” I tell him. “I am very attracted to you—ensorcelled, really. I just think that people should be in a relationship for a pretty substantial amount of time before they start talking about love and diapers and crayons and snot all over the place and the dog’s chewed up everything, you know?” “I’m not entirely sure that I do know,” he says. “I’m just saying that we should wait and give it some more time to grow, give the relationship more time to grow. Then, if that’s how we’re both feeling, we can go from there,” I tell him. “You’re such a commitment-phobe,” he says. “First off, you can’t just add the word ‘phobe’ to the end of another word and expect

that to create a psychological term,” I tell him. “Second off, you’re the one that said he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at all. Are you really going to push this?” I ask. “After everything that’s happened today, everything that’s been happening, is now really the time to have this particular conversation?” He shakes his head, saying, “No. I don’t think this is the best time to do this.” “Good,” I answer. “That’s settled, then.” “Still horny?” he asks. The question serves its purpose, as it gets me to smile. “No,” I tell him. “I think I’m good.” “All right,” he says. “Just one quick thing…” “What’s that?” I ask. “You never said how you would answer,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You never said, gun to your head, if you absolutely had to, whether or not you’d say you love me or not,” he says. “I thought we were dropping this,” I groan. “We are,” he says. “I’ve just got that one question: do you love me?” I scoff and turn away, but as I bring my gaze back to settle on him, I notice something that I haven’t before. It’s subtle, very subtle, but as I look at Damian’s expectant face, I see softness about him, and I feel a tender warmth and security with him. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “I haven’t really thought about it.” “You’ve had a few minutes,” he says. “What’s your knee-jerk reaction?”

I narrow my eyes at him, looking for any sign of jest or insincerity, but if there’s any there, I don’t spot it. “I’d say I’m closer to a yes than I am a no,” I tell him. “What does that mean?” he asks. “Yes is love, no is not love,” I answer brusquely. “I’m closer to a yes than a no, but that opinion is certainly changeable.” “Okay, okay,” he says. “I got it. Just wanted to be sure we were on the same page and all that,” he says. “Okay, so are we done?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Good,” I answer. “Unless you’re still horny,” he says. “I kind of liked you up there on the countertop.” He’s pretty, but not too bright. Damian lingers in the kitchen, I’m assuming, in case I change my mind and decide to wipe the floors with him. He’s going to be waiting in there for a while. I get out to the front room and see the glare of headlights and camera lights, and I wish these people would just go home. Why are they so goddamned fascinated that they’ve got to camp out on my front… “Damian?!” I shout. “What?” he calls, and rushes into the living room. What I caught out of the corner of my eye through the window wasn’t a mass of cameras and reporters; there’s a small fire burning on my front lawn. “What the hell is that?” I ask.

“It’s her,” he says. “Call the cops. I don’t know if she’s still on your property or not.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” I shout at him. “I’ve never seen her,” he says, fumbling for his phone. “I don’t know if she runs off after she does what she does or if she waits somewhere nearby where she can see my reaction or what. Just call the cops.” He hands his phone to me. I take the phone and he runs around locking doors. This can’t be happening. I dial 911, although I’m really not sure whether this constitutes an emergency. Well, I guess the fire, however small, might be reason enough to send someone pretty quick. “What is the location of your emergency?” the operator answers. I go through and give the woman all of the information. She asks if I’ve been outside about the time Damian’s heading back to the front door, this time to unlock it. “What are you doing?” I ask, covering the phone. “I’m going to see if she’s still out there,” he says. “If not, I want to see what she did to your lawn.” “Stay inside,” I tell him. “Ma’am?” the operator asks through the phone. “Wait for the cops. You don’t know if she’s dangerous. You don’t know what she’s capable of,” I tell him. “Ma’am?” the operator asks again. “Yes,” I answer, putting the phone back to my ear. “I’m sorry about that. I was just telling my boyfriend not to go out there until someone in a uniform checked it out first.”

“So the two of you are in a relationship,” the operator says. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “Ma’am,” I start, “I’m not calling to gossip, I’m calling because some psycho lady just set my lawn on fire and I need you to send someone!” “Help is on the way,” she says. “So, what’s he like? Is he nice in person—he really seems like the kind of guy who’d just be really nice to you if you met him on the street or in a coffee shop or something, is that true?” “‘Is he nice in person?’” I ask. “This is a practical joke, right?” “I don’t know, he just seems like he’s got that humility to temper the confidence, you know?” she asks. “Is he doing a nude scene?” “Is there anything I should be doing?” I ask. “Should we be staying away from windows or something?” “Probably,” she says. “Did you ever see that movie he did, Eastland, the one where you get a 10 second look at that cute behind of his?” Help’s on the way and I’m really just so tired of fighting things that I just give up. “Yeah, that was quite something, wasn’t it?” I ask. Damian’s moved away from the door now and he’s pacing in my front room, occasionally stopping to look out the window at the burning patch of lawn. Whatever she did, the fire seems very well controlled. “I wore out that DVD,” the operator laughs. “Between you, me, and the lemon tree, I must’ve watched that part of the movie about a couple hundred times, and you know what?” she asks. “What?” I ask.

“I’ve still never seen the ending,” she says, and erupts in laughter. I’m starting to hear sirens in the distance, and, thanks to what I’m assuming is my utter exhaustion, I just start laughing with her. “Do me a favor?” I ask her while I sit down. “What’s that, hon?” the dispatcher asks. “Is there any way we could just keep this conversation between you and me?” I ask her. “To tell you the truth, I think I’m about done with all the attention for the more screwed up things in my life.” “That isn’t really my call,” the woman says. “I think if we’re contacted, we have to release the tape. I really don’t deal with that, though.” “Huh,” I say. “Well, maybe with all of this I can be the first person to actually break the internet.” “Things happen,” the woman says. “Things get better.” “I hope so,” I tell her. “Things are pretty crappy right now.” A fire truck and an ambulance—for some reason—pull up to the front. “They’re here,” I tell her. “I should probably let you go.” “All right,” the woman says. “Keep that chin up.” “I’ll try,” I tell her. “What’s your name?” “Doreen,” she says. “It’s been nice to talk with you, Doreen. I’m Emma,” I say. “Well, you go on and have a better evening now, all right?” she says. “All right,” I tell her. “Thanks, bye.”

I hang up and release Damian, who’s been eyeing that front door for the last five minutes. He’s outside before I am, and by the time I’m walking out the door, he’s already standing near the fire, looking down at it. “Are you Emma Roxy?” one of the firemen asks. The patch on his jacket says Jackson. “Yeah,” I answer. “I called. This just happened—what—like 10 minutes ago?” “Did you see anyone around here?” he asks. “No,” I tell him. “I just came into the living room, saw the fire, and I called you.” “Okay,” Jackson says. “The fire is obviously very well-controlled. We’re going to wait for the police to get here before we put it out. I hope that’s all right with you.” “What is it, anyway?” I ask. “Is it just a bunch of sticks or what?” “They’re pieces of wood arranged to form a sentence,” he says. “I really wouldn’t worry about it. Between us and the cops, we’ll get this taken care of for you.” “Thanks,” I answer, looking past him. “What does it say?” “I don’t think you need to see it,” he says. “I’m not as delicate as all that,” I tell him, and walk past. As I get close, Damian looks up and says, “We’re going to find her. She can’t keep doing stuff like this and not get caught.” I look down. The fire, while an aesthetic touch, makes the message rather difficult to read, but after about a minute, I see it pretty clearly. “Hands off, bitch,” I read. “He loves me.”

It was the fact that she used punctuation which made the message so difficult to read through the fire. Damian pops his lips. “The way Jackson back there was acting,” I tell Damian, “I thought it was going to say, ‘I’m going to shoot you in the face around noon on Thursday’ or something.” “Nobody has any common decency anymore,” he says. “The least a person can do when they’re threatening you is have the courtesy to be specific.” I smile. “You all right?” he asks. “I know this is kind of freaky shit.” “Yeah, it’s kind of freaky shit,” I tell him. “But I don’t think it’s going to bring my life to a screeching halt, either, so I guess we just do what we have to do and hope she ends up caught sooner than later.” “You’re taking a very enlightened approach to this whole thing,” Damian says, and in the background, a couple of police cruisers pull up. “I’m past the point where I can even process any of this,” I tell him. “It’s a nice place.” “I hope it sticks around,” he says, and that enlightened perspective must be starting to crack, because I’m already thinking of popping him in his stupid throat. But I take a breath, and everything’s just the slightest bit better. The police come over and we talk. I learn a lot more about the stalker hearing Damian talking to the policeman than he ever said to me. Why didn’t I say I loved him earlier? We’re still not to the point where we can trust each other with the things in our lives that make us uncomfortable.

I know he was trying to protect me, that he didn’t want me to worry, but I’d take the communication over the illusion of security any day. After the officer’s done with his questions, we all just kind of look at each other because we all know the same stupid truth: nobody knows who this woman is, and she’s probably going to keep this up until something big happens. I can’t imagine it would be something good. The police leave after taking some pictures and the firemen leave after putting out the fire. The paramedics stick around for a couple of minutes to chat with Damian about an action movie of his that came out a few months ago called The Force of Law. One might say that it wasn’t his best movie and certainly not his best performance. One might also say that the movie probably would have threatened to destroy his entire acting career if people had bothered to go see it. One might say those things. Still, the few who saw it and liked it formed a loosely organized cabal of people who, whenever any topic that may be construed to have a remote relation to the film comes up, they talk about the movie. I almost lost my lady boner for him after seeing that steaming pile of… “Emma!” Damian calls over. “Check this out; you’re not going to believe this.” I never bothered leaving the side of the fire. The fire was small enough that I didn’t even have to move when the firemen put it out. Now, though, Damian’s over on the driveway with those paramedics and they’re all looking down at a cell phone. One more look down at the now illegible threat somehow arranged entirely without anyone noticing, and then I walk over to see what they all find so interesting at a time like this.

“Check this out,” Damian says. “That guy who was blackmailing you—Ben Whatever,” he says. “He got into a fight in the slammer and got the shit kicked out of him.” “Don’t toy with me, Jones,” I tell him. “Don’t tease me with good news that isn’t true.” “Check it out,” he says. I was hoping for pictures, but it’s just an article. Apparently, Ben was standing in line, waiting for his food tray, and some man just came up to him and socked him right in the fucking mouth. “Did you see the best part?” Damian asks. “I’m still reading,” I tell him. When questioned about what possible motive he could have had for the assault, the attacker, LeRoy Tsvetkov, is quoted in the article as saying, “I know what that punk did to Emma Roxy. I love that bitch. I seen all her movies.” I think it’s somewhere around here that I realize any significant understanding I may have thought I had regarding the ways of the world is completely wrong. “Being famous isn’t all bad,” Damian says with a laugh.

Chapter Sixteen The Art of Conversation Damian “And, cut!” Dutch yells, and I know I’m in for some shit. “What the hell was that?” Dutch yells. “I told you to take the suitcase, put it on the bed, and then grab the big stack of towels. It’s really not that hard, Jones. Jesus! What’s the matter with you?!” Dutch is angry. I know I probably didn’t need to tell you that, but he’s been angry with me a lot lately, and it’s no secret why. I’ve been choking like a motherfucker for over a week now. “Let’s try it again!” Dutch shouts. I take my place at the foot of the bed. In this scene, my character finds out that Emma’s character has left the hotel and is planning to leave the city, so he’s chasing after her and Dutch insists that we do the old stealing-hotel-towels gag like it hasn’t been done to absolute death. Still, I took the job, so the least I could do would be to do a decent take, or at least one would think. Dutch yells action, I take a step toward the bathroom, and Dutch yells cut. “I want you to repeat this in your head,” he says. “Take the suitcase, put it on the bed, and then grab the towels. Repeat that for me.” “Dutch, I know,” I tell him. “I don’t know what my problem—”

“Take the suitcase,” he says, “put it on the bed, and then grab the towels.” “I’m on it,” I tell him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve got this—” “Take the suitcase,” he says a little less patiently, “put it on the bed, and then grab the towels.” “Fine,” I tell him. “Take the suitcase, put it on the bed, and then grab the towels.” “Good,” he says. “I want you to take about half a minute and just play that like a broken record in your head, all right? Then, we’re going to try this again and we’re going to get it right.” “Yeah, I’m sorry, Dutch, I—” I start. “What’s the only thing I want going through your mind right now?” he asks. This is humiliating. They haven’t spent this much time on any single group of extras. “Take the suitcase,” I tell him, “put it on the bed, and then grab the towels.” “That’s right,” he says, and the whole set is silent for 30 seconds. The whole set. Quiet. For 30 seconds. If this is doing anything to my confidence, it’s not doing anything good. “All right,” Dutch says. “Now you know what you’re doing?” “Take the suitcase,” I tell him, “put it on the bed, and then grab the towels.” “That’s right,” he says. “And, action!” I just stand here for a second, trying to remember what the fuck it is I’m supposed to be doing. The fact that it’s so simple is making it harder for me to get it. “Whenever you’re ready,” Dutch says. I take a step.

“Cut!” I want to kill myself. “What happened that time?” Dutch asks. He patronizingly adds, “You were saying the right words, it looked like you knew what you had to do, and then poof! You fuck it up again.” “Does it really matter if I put the towels on the bed before the suitcase?” I ask. “Of course it matters,” he says. “It’s all about the punchline. If you get the towels on the bed from the beginning of the shot, you’re going to know what’s going to happen. If you’re under the impression that he’s going to quickly throw some clothes into his suitcase, but he just comes back with a big stack of towels, that’s comedy. You know the fucking drill,” he says. “Now get it right.” “I got it,” I tell him. “I’m on it.” “And, action!” he calls. I walk toward the suitcase. “And, cut!” Dutch yells. “Okay Jones, what the fuck? Are you trying to bury me? Are you trying to send my stress levels so far through the roof that I start bleeding from my eyeballs and strangling my assistant? I haven’t strangled an assistant in a very long time, Jones, and there’s a reason for that. It’s not a pleasant thing to do to another person. Forget about how unpleasant it is for the person being choked, I have to look into those eyes, screaming for life, and find an answer to the question, ‘Oh great, dear God, Why?’ and I have to let go because I’m starting to feel like an asshole. Is that what you want?” he shouts. “Not even remotely,” I tell him. “Okay, then why the hell are you lazily sauntering to the suitcase?” he yells. “You’re

in a hurry, the love of your life—though you’ve only just realized it—is leaving, and if you don’t find her now, you’re never going to see her again. You’re running. You’re rushing. This isn’t a slow process, you want to get that suitcase on the bed, get the towels in it so you and she can start your happily ever after. Is that so fucking impossible to understand, or are we going to have to do this again in 30 seconds?” “I’ve got it,” I tell him. “Quickly take the suitcase, put it on the bed, and then grab the towels.” “Don’t screw me here, Jones. I’ve sent bigger stars than you back to the trailer parks they came from,” he says. “Well, I think that was a little out of line,” I tell him. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry.” “Thank you,” I tell him. “Now will you shut the fuck up and do the goddamned scene?” he asks. “Right,” I answer, and get back to my place. “And, action!” Dutch calls, and I lunge forward, intending for the motion to be the first step on my hurried race to steal the hotel’s towels for some reason, and one foot catches the other foot while the leg is on its way out and I fall flat on my fucking face. “And, cut!” I’m expecting another diatribe, but Dutch just throws his copy of the script in the air and starts walking away. I will say, though, that it’s pretty extraordinary how both the assistant director and assistant to the director start catching pages before they land. This is my career ending when I can’t even act out a stupid gag. Right now, I wish I was in any other profession in the world.

Somewhere in the distance, Dutch yells, “Everybody take 15!” Fifteen-minute break: that means chain smoking. When Dutch is in a good mood, he only smokes a couple of cigarettes a day, and when he does, it usually takes him like, eight minutes a cigarette because he’s talking and laughing and all that. When Dutch is in a good mood, all quick breaks are 10 minutes, because that’s how long it takes for him to get where he can smoke, smoke, and get back. When Dutch is in the mood he’s in right now, though, he manages to cut his time from eight minutes a cigarette down to three. There’s only one way of knowing just how pissed he is, and that’s when he says a number other than eight. Five minutes is slightly bothered, twelve minutes means someone’s about to get fired. Fifteen minutes means someone’s about to be killed and have their body disposed of by the mob connections Dutch has long been rumored to have. That’s not what’s got me scared, though. I can handle Dutch’s tirades. What I can’t handle is being unable to do my job. “Hey,” Tammy from wardrobe says, and I look down. “Shit, did I tear my clothes or something?” I ask. “No,” she says. “I just finished up and they said they’d let me watch you do your scene as long as I kept quiet and out of the way.” “Ah,” I answer. “You seem to be having a bit of a rough time,” she says. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know,” I tell her. “I think I’m getting the yips.” “The yips?” she asks. “Yeah,” I tell her. “It’s when you’re suddenly unable to perform the simplest tasks

with something you’ve been doing a long time because you’re all up in your head freaked out about how you’re suddenly unable to perform the simplest tasks with something you’ve been doing a long time.” “Sounds complicated,” she says. “It’s really not,” I tell her. “So, what’s up?” “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help. I don’t know if you have or would even want someone to talk to, but I’d be more than happy to listen if you think it would help,” she says. “That’s okay,” I tell her. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. I just need to get my head back in it, and I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.” “Great,” she says. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be around. And hey, good luck with your scene. I hope you nail it.” “Yeah,” I scoff, “thanks.” There’s a big part of me that does want to nail the scene because I’m an actor and nailing scenes is, well, it’s kind of what we do. There’s a part of me just as big, though, that’s just stupefied that we’re doing a scene like this at all. There are old gags and there are old gags, and I fail to see any way in which me stealing hotel towels like every character in every comedy everything that’s ever existed. Back in the dark ages, for the purposes of my point, we’ll say that even court jesters would often talk about how they would slip a tuft of hay when they were traveling from inn to inn. See, that was a better joke than the one in this scene, and it was terrible! So, here’s where I have to stop and ask myself for the 47th time today whether this kind of movie is really what I want to be doing for the rest of my career. For the 47th time today, I don’t have an answer, though I will say there are good

arguments on both sides. “All right, Jones, you sack of shit,” Dutch bellows as he approaches the set, “are you going to keep fucking around or can we make a fucking movie here?” * * * “So, this is going to be your swan song, huh?” Danna asks, dipping a granola bar into a cup of yogurt. “I can hear the trailers now: Flashing Lights, the final film by notable actor and bumbling idiot Damian Jones.” “You could be a lot more supportive,” I tell her. “You are my agent, after all. What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m screwing up the stupidest things.” “It sounds like it,” she snickers. “You’re not helping,” I tell her. “Any news on stalker lady?” “She’s not the woman that I’m worried about,” Danna says. “Yeah,” I tell her, “I get it, I’m a big girl. Ha ha.” “Actually, for once I wasn’t talking about you,” she says, “although I will say that I do love how that’s immediately where your mind goes when I say something about a woman.” “Who are you talking about then?” I ask. “Who else is there?” she asks. “Oh, she’s never done anything to you,” I tell her. “What’s your problem with Emma, anyway?”

“My biggest problem with her right now,” Danna says, “is that she’s a scandal magnet, and with you tripping over your panties on the set, you really don’t need anything else to complicate your employment right now.” “They’re not going to fire me,” I tell her. “It wouldn’t be the first time a leading man got hired onto a set, couldn’t get his shit together, and got his ass kicked right back off of it again,” Danna says. “Still,” I tell her, “so helpful.” “I’m just trying to make this real for you, because you apparently don’t seem to think it’s that big a deal,” she says. “This is my career,” I tell her. “This is something I’ve put so much of my life into. It’s my identity. I am an actor. I don’t want to have to change that to ‘I was an actor.’” “Then pull your head from between your thighs, Clarabelle, and start listening to me,” Danna says. “Clarabelle?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says, “I heard the name on a show earlier and thought I’d go for it.” “So you’re saying that I should dump Emma?” I ask. “You think I should just break it off, huh?” “Yeah,” Danna answers. “I know that’s not what you’re hoping to hear, little bro, but that’s really your only good option here. The difference between you and her is that you’re going through a slump. You can pull out of what you’re going through, but she can’t keep drama off her ass for five seconds, and people like that only make things worse. It’s like a superpower: the incredible ability to attract negative shit.” “It’s not her fault,” I tell Danna. “You don’t know all the shit she’s been through.”

“I’m sure she’s been through a lot, seeing those pictures,” Danna says, “but the fact remains that you’re not able to do your fucking job because you’ve got your head stuck between the legs of some actress.” The doorbell rings and I go to answer it, not bothering to respond to Danna’s bullshit. I open the door to find Emma standing there. “Hey,” I say. “Hey,” she says. “I should have called, but I wanted to see you.” “Come on in,” I tell her. She comes in, and Danna comes out of the kitchen to see who’s here, slowing to a stop when she sees that it’s Emma. “Hey, Danna,” Emma says. “How’s your night going?” Danna doesn’t say anything; she just crosses her arms and glares at Emma. Emma shrugs it off and looks back at me. “I was thinking of taking you to dinner,” she says, and looks over to Danna, who’s still giving her the crooked eye, “both of you. I thought it might be nice to get out and just kind of take our minds off of everything.” “Sounds good to me,” I answer. Danna doesn’t say anything. “Do you want to go to dinner with us, Danna?” I ask. She doesn’t answer me. “It’s fine,” Emma says. “Start thinking about where you’d like to eat. I’m so hungry, I could eat anything.” “I don’t know,” I answer, looking at my sister. “What do you think, Danna? What are you in the mood for?”

Danna doesn’t answer, and I’m fucking sick of it. “What the fuck is your problem?” I ask her. “You can’t answer when someone’s fucking talking to you?” Danna just gives me a closed-mouth smile and walks out of the room. “I am so sorry about that,” I tell Emma. “Really,” Emma says, her confidence clearly shaken, “it’s okay.” Danna comes back into the room a minute later, pulling a wheeled suitcase. “Where are you going?” I ask. “I’m getting out of here,” she says. “You don’t want to listen to me and you apparently have no desire to save your career, so I think we’re pretty much done.” “You’re leaving?” I ask. “Yep,” she says. “I’ll have someone come by and pick up the rest of my stuff. If you need to get ahold of me, I’ll be staying at the Steam Hills Motel.” “Why does that sound familiar?” I ask. “Because it’s where my dad’s staying,” Emma says. “Ta-ta,” Danna says, and walks out the front door. I could catch up to her at the curb if I really wanted to, but I don’t. Something strange happens to me as Danna walks out the door, and I just kind of slump down onto the back of my couch. “Are you all right?” Danna asks. I nod and then I shrug. I really don’t know. They say that twins have a strange connection with one another, but while Danna and

I have always been close, we’ve never been the twins who wear matching outfits that you see going everywhere in public together. We’ve lived apart for most of our adult lives, but still, seeing her just walk out like that as if it wasn’t even a big thing. I don’t know, it’s just kind of hitting me in a way that I didn’t expect. “What’s wrong?” Emma asks. I don’t know what to tell her. On the one hand, I’m pissed at Danna for the way she’s acting, but on the other hand, that’s my twin sister, and she’s out there waiting for a cab to take her away from me. “Oh,” Emma scoffs, “so now you’re not going to talk to me, either?” I understand her frustration, but I simply have nothing to offer her right now. My parents left, Danna left…give it a few more minutes of me and the inadvertent silent treatment, and I bet I can get Emma to leave, too. “Fine,” she says. “Whenever you’ve figured out how to fucking talk to me, give me a call. Until then, I don’t even want to see you.” She walks out of the house. Yep, I’ve still got it. There’s nothing left for me to do but just sit here and reflect over how wonderfully tragic our charmed lives really are. The phone rings and at least I’m with it enough to answer, only it’s the last person in the world I want to talk to. Rita, if that’s really her name, is breathing heavily on the other end of the phone, and I’m tempted to hang up for a moment, but decide in all of my fool’s glory that I might just

be able to make a difference in one area of my life today. “Why are you doing this?” I ask. “I’m sure this isn’t something that you’ve just always done. Something happened, right?” I ask. “Something happened that took away your sense of control over your life and now you feel like the only way you can feel safe, the only way you can feel secure, is if you take control over someone else’s life, well I have to tell you, that doesn’t work.” She’s breathing heavy and I just keep talking. “I’m sure that on some level you know what’s really going on here,” I tell the woman who may or may not be masturbating on the other end of the phone. “Part of you, I think, is reaching out, but you’re doing it in a way you have to know is only going to lead to a harder rejection. So, why do you do this? Am I the first person you’ve done it to or have there been a lot of us? What’s your endgame here if I don’t decide that the person who’s been disrupting every part of my life more than any other is my one true love? What happens then? Do you really think this is the way to get to me?” I ask. “This is how you’re going to get me to hate you,” I tell her. “I’m not sure that I don’t already.” Something changes in the way that she’s breathing, but she doesn’t say anything. “Maybe it’s not your fault, I don’t know. Maybe you’re like the rest of us and just have more in your past than you’d like to talk about with people,” I tell her. “Not to get too personal here, because frankly, you scare the bejesus out of me, but I think I can understand what you’re doing on some level. I don’t see the point in it myself, but really, what you’re doing is that you’re lashing out. Something’s happened in your life that’s made you feel like this is the only way you can get a sense of control. Maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe you’re just so afraid of actually making a positive connection with someone that you feel the need to torture someone you admire and say that it’s because of love.”

Her breath is uneven now, but she keeps her silence. “What is your fault,” I tell her, “is what you do with those feelings that you have. You can choose to inflict them upon someone else, trying to push back against whatever it was that made you go off your rocker, but is that really going to make you happy? Maybe you don’t see what you’re doing as wrong. Maybe you really do think that this is the way to express your love or whatever it is that you’re calling it—I can tell you right now that it has nothing to do with love.” I don’t know why I’m still talking, but it’s all my body knows how to do right now. “When you take something away from someone else, you are exerting power,” I tell her. “The ability to take something away from someone places you above that person. That person immediately becomes your inferior, because you were able to take from them. I get the temptation. To be able to take away someone’s peace of mind, now, that’s got to be even more tempting for you. Even better, why not make it someone in the public eye? Why not make it someone that everyone knows? That way, you can have power over all of them!” I shout. “Is that it?” She’s still breathing loudly into the phone, but every now and then, little torn pieces of voice come through. “Problem is, every single one of them is going to see themselves so superior to you when they find out what you’ve done,” I tell her. “Every single one of them is going to think that you’re just the leftover of someone else’s nothing. If it’s attention you want, though, you’re going to get plenty of that.” Rita’s now openly sobbing on the other end of the line, and part of me actually wants to feel sorry for her. “I know that you’re pissed off and you think that if you can just get control over one thing, your life is going to fall back into place and everything’s going to work out better

for you, but you’re just fooling yourself,” I tell her, though I’m talking just as much to myself. “People get whatever they get. You can fight it, but you’re going to go crazy trying, as I think we can both agree is pretty evidently the case here. Whatever happened to you happened to you and there’s nothing you can do to change it. Making other people miserable isn’t going to fix anything, you’re just being that prime mover for someone else’s misery, so really, you’re no better than the situation that put you here. It doesn’t have to be like that, though,” I tell her. “You can decide to grow up and start responding to life rather than running away from it. When bad things happen, and they will, you can decide to deal with it. Or, you can keep making my life and the lives of others a total hell so you can see the story on TV. I don’t know who you are, so it’s not like I can really stop you at the moment.” I’m hoping for some sort of real change, some sort of response. I’m hoping to hear her say that she’s sorry or to say anything, but she doesn’t. The only time I hear her voice is when it’s coming through in sobs. “The thing you want more than all else is the thing you will tirelessly work to prevent yourself from getting,” I say. “It’s the very fact of wanting it so much that does it. Wanting something like that is an addiction. The only thing that you ever really feed is that want. It’s all you know how to do. I should know,” I tell her, “I’m the same way. It comes out a lot differently with me than it does, obviously, with you, but it’s that same kind of want. I’ve had that want for well over a decade now,” I tell her, “but would you like to know what I’ve found in all that time?” I’m waiting for an answer, but one doesn’t come. “I’ve found,” I continue, “that that want is just a lie. It’s impossible, and you’re the one that made it impossible. Before that want existed, you might have had a shot at some kind of normal life, but it’s there now and it’s not going away. The world you live in isn’t

the world that everyone else lives in because you’ve separated yourself from everything and everyone that doesn’t fit into your narrative. It doesn’t work,” I tell her. “Your best bet is just to stop trying, and realize that life just fucking sucks.” One last time, I wait for an answer. The woman, assumedly Rita, is still crying, but it’s more controlled now. “If you want to make a real difference in someone’s life, make a real impact that’s going to show you just how much power you’ve got?” I ask. “Leave me, my friends, and my family alone,” I tell her. “You will have absolutely changed my life.” For once, the line is silent, but I don’t hang up. It’s just kind of nice having someone to talk to.

Chapter Seventeen The Talk Show Emma It had to happen at some point, but I was hoping to actually be well on the other side of this whole thing before it did. I’m standing in the green room of Ida!, the upstart, feel-good talk show that’s supposed to replace Oprah, even though we all know that that’s never going to happen. Nobody replaces Oprah. I’m on in a few minutes, and they’ve devoted the whole show to talking about the second worst period of my life. This should be something really special. There’s a TV in here, tuned to the station Ida! gets broadcast on, and the promo comes on the screen, “Today, on Ida…” The music is very somber, even a little tense at times. “Jesus,” I mutter to myself, “I’m the fucking Hollywood sob story.” The promo continues, “…after a long road to fame and fortune, Emma Roxy…” and I just tune out. This feels like a bad sitcom where the writers decide they’re going to show their range and do a sad episode, only it almost never works out. They did a couple of those episodes on Fresh Prince that weren’t bad, but that’s really neither here nor there.

“Emma?” a man in a very busy sweater says, speaking as if he’s interrupting a funeral. “Yeah?” I respond, facing him. “We’re about ready for you. I’ll escort you to where you’re just on stage and I’ll cue you when it’s time to go out. Did you have a chance to walk over the set and kind of get an idea where you’re going?” “Yeah,” I lie. I didn’t need a tour of the set. It’s actually a guilty pleasure of mine. “Great,” he says. “If you’ll just follow me…” We walk down the hallways and everyone I pass gives me the kind of smile people give when you’re a kid and your dog just died. It’s that smile that’s supposed to communicate, “I know you’re going through a rough time, kiddo,” but always comes across more like, “When can I get out of here? This whole thing is really bumming me out.” Smiles are rather expressive, you know. We get to the side of the stage, just out of view of the cameras and the audience, and the man in the sweater takes my hand in both of his and says, “Because we’re taping this for later, commercial breaks are going to be pretty short, usually just a couple of minutes for Ida to go over her notes, that sort of thing. If you need to take a break, let Ida know and they’ll stop filming until you’ve had a chance to collect yourself. I’m going to be right here with you while you’re waiting, I’ll be standing right here while you’re on and I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?” They really know how to do the sympathy thing around here, don’t they? A couple of minutes go by and I’m waiting. I was kind of hoping to meet Ida Falcone before I went out there, but it’s not my set.

There’s the uproar of applause, and my heart starts pounding hard and fast. Sweater guy isn’t helping things, as he’s still holding my hand and gripping it a little tighter as every second passes, bringing ever closer my no doubt heartbreaking tale of abuse and blackmail. I can see why they’d think it’d make for good television. From off set I can hear Ida starting the show. “Welcome everyone to a very special show. Tonight, we’re going to be talking to Emma Roxy, who—” she’s interrupted by a strange applause. “Yeah,” she says as every member of the audience tries to show just how kindhearted and sympathetic they are for supporting a wretch like me. “As you all know,” she says, “Emma’s filming a new movie with Damian Jones—” another applause break, and I stop listening. “Tell me when it’s time for me to go on, will you?” I ask. “Of course,” Sweater Guy says, and I walk away from the stage entrance a little to pour myself a cup of water from a nearby water cooler. I take a sip. Usually, when I get nervous, I try to battle my nerves and work through the situation, but now, I’m just trying to clear my mind. I’ve gone over the story enough times in my head and in my house by myself that I think I’m comfortable with whatever she can throw at me, but that doesn’t change any part of the story I’m going to have to tell. “Emma?” Sweater Guy says, and I set my cup down and walk over to him. “It’s just going to be a few seconds,” he says. “Are you ready?” “Nope,” I answer. On the stage, Ida announces, “Miss Emma Roxy!” and I pat Sweater Guy on the shoulder as I walk past him and onto the stage, waving at the drama-thirsty audience as I make my way toward Ida.

She gives me a big hug that I have to bend down for, as she’s a lot shorter in real life than she looks on TV, and I just wish everyone in the audience would just drop right fucking dead. I’m sure they’re decent people, but the fact of the matter is that they’re in this room with me right now and because of that, I hate everything about them. “I’m so glad you could make it,” Ida says through the continuing cacophony, and I smile and I nod my head. “I’m glad to be here,” I respond, though I’m sure not even Ida could hear it. We sit down and the applause slowly dies down. “Emma,” Ida says, “I know we’re going to be talking about a lot of harrowing things today, and I would just like to tell you that I admire you, so much—” the audience starts in again with their fucking clapping, and I’m trying to hide my contempt. “Really,” Ida says. “I think that you are a strong role model for our children, and I am so excited that you’ve got your entire career ahead of you.” “Thanks,” I answer. “Now, this all started just a few months ago after you started on your new film, right?” she asks. “That’s when I first heard from him,” I tell her. “I hadn’t spoken to him for about a year before that.” “Did you ever suspect that he might do something like this?” she asks. “With people like him,” I tell her, “you learn to expect the worst at all times. I don’t think it ever crossed my mind that he would do this specific thing, but—” “—but he was just that kind of guy, huh?” she interrupts.

“You could say that,” I tell her. “I think I always knew, even after we broke up, that he wasn’t just going to let me go—” “He was controlling?” Ida interrupts again, and she’s really starting to irritate me with all the interrupting. “Very controlling,” I answer. “Everything always had to be exactly the way that he wanted it, and that everything included me. For a while there,” I tell her, the studio audience, and a couple million viewers at home, “I was, effectively, his captive. Even when he wasn’t around, he—” “So, if you don’t mind talking about it—” Ida starts. “That’s why I’m here,” I interrupt out of spite, hoping she takes the hint and learns how to let me finish a sentence. “How did the two of you first meet?” she asks. “You and Mr. Cole, that is.” “I first met Ben a couple years ago,” I start. “I was doing made-for-TV movies and he was the first guy I met in a bar who’d actually seen one of them. That was a pretty big deal for me at the time.” The audience laughs. “So, you met him in a bar?” Ida asks, and it’s really difficult to tell through all that makeup if she’s being judgmental or not. “Yeah,” I tell her. “I was there for a wrap party with the cast of one of my movies and he recognized me. We started talking and one thing led to another—” “So, how long into the relationship was it before you knew that Ben had this side?” Ida asks. I want to scream.

“It’s not a side,” I tell her. “It’s him. The abuse, the whole nightmare, that’s just who he is. He’s a person that enjoys hurting people. The charming guy I met in the bar—it wasn’t a side. It was an act.” “So, it happened pretty quickly then?” Ida asks. She’s pushing for more information, and she’s trying to do it in a way that nobody but me knows just what a bitch she’s being. “The formal abuse or whatever you want to call it,” I tell her, “that took a couple of months, but the warning signs were all there from the start. He’d get really upset over the smallest things, things that didn’t even make sense to get upset about, you know? At first, he would stay quiet about it, but you could just see him shaking from the anger.” “When did it finally take that turn for the worse?” Ida asks. The audience is silent. Nobody’s so much as wiping their nose. This is the money shot. This is why everyone’s here today. “I think it really took a turn after we got back from visiting his parents,” I tell her. “We got home, and as soon as the door was closed, he was in my face, screaming at me about how I had been impolite to his mother by not taking a piece of pie that she offered— it was always over the stupidest things…” “Did he hit you?” Ida asks, and I can almost hear her getting wet between the legs thinking about the ratings bump she’s about to get. “That was the first night he hit me,” I tell her. “I told him that he was being stupid and he slapped me across the face. When I tried to leave, he grabbed me and pulled me to the ground, and that’s when he just started hitting me. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. All I could do was curl up and hope that maybe he’d find it in his heart to stop.” I can actually see a tiny smile flash across Ida’s mouth, but it’s gone so quickly, I doubt the cameras really caught it.

“What happened next?” she asks. “He was yelling at me while he was hitting me,” I tell her. “He was saying that he’d been so patient with me, but that he’d had enough of my…well, I can’t say the word on TV, but you get the idea. I don’t remember when he stopped hitting me, how long it was, but I do remember that he was out the door and his car was peeling out almost as soon as he did.” “The pictures of you with the bruises…” she says. “Those were from another time?” “Yeah,” I tell her. “After that first night, I never knew what was going to set him off. Sometimes, he’d let things that would make a normal person angry go completely, saying they didn’t bother him, while other times, he’d fly off the handle about absolutely nothing, although I do think the pie incident was the most ridiculous reason he ever hit me. Not that there were any good ones.” A few of the misery junkies in the audience applaud, and within a second or two, the whole crowd is applauding. The funny thing is, I’m not quite sure what it is I said they’re showing their approval for—maybe the “no good reason to hit me” thing? The crowd calms down again and Ida leans toward me, saying, “Did you try to leave?” “That kind of depends on your definition of the word ‘try,’” I tell her. “I convinced myself a few hundred times—that’s actually not hyperbole—to leave him, but every time I got close to doing it, I just felt this huge wave of fear rolling through me. I just imagined him tracking me down and what he would do if he caught me trying to leave him. It really wasn’t very easy. Luckily, though, I got—” “You know,” Ida says, “I hear that so much, that women in these relationships often do want to leave their abusers, but that fear keeps them from doing it.”

“You feel like your life isn’t yours,” I tell her. “You feel like you’re a possession of this person who’s just as likely to put your head through a wall as he is to hold a door open for you. After that first time, he was so apologetic…” I sigh. “You know, before I was with Ben, I used to look at women whose boyfriends or husbands treated them like crap and I used to think they were so weak for going back to them time and time again, but it’s not weakness. You literally feel like you do not have the option to leave until that day comes when you finally decide that enough is enough, and even then, you’re still scared for your life. If anything, you feel like you’re deciding whether you’d rather stop living like you’re living or whether you’d like to keep living. That’s really how it feels and too much of the time, that’s really how it is.” “What happened that weekend he took those pictures of you?” Ida asks, and it feels like she’s completely ignoring everything I just said. I try to move my hands out of camera frame because they’re clenched into fists. “It was a few days before we were supposed to get away and I had just gotten a callback about this role I really wanted,” I answer. “The problem was, the callback was on the same day we were supposed to leave for our vacation. I knew it was a mistake before I did it, but I asked him if he’d be willing to leave a little bit later than we’d planned so that I could make it to my callback.” “And that’s what led to…?” she says. “Yeah,” I tell her. “After I asked the question, I could see that change come over him and I tried to walk it back, tell him that I’d call back and see if I could get in on an earlier day or just skip the callback altogether so we could go on our trip, but I’d already committed the chief sin in his eyes. I questioned what he’d already decided. Those pictures,” I sigh, “those, I think he just took so he’d have something to remind me what happens when I…”

I trail off. “When you go against him?” Ida asks. He used to say the words to me all the time, but now that I go to repeat them, they catch in my throat. “It’s time for a commercial break,” Ida says. “I’m here talking with Emma Roxy. When we come back, we’ll be talking to Emma more about her ordeal and what kind of things she sees in her future. Stay tuned.” Someone offscreen calls, “We’re out!” Ida leans toward me. “I know this is hard for you,” she says, “but we’ve got to keep things moving if you’re going to be able to say everything you want to say.” “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better,” I tell her, and with that tiny act of me humbling myself before her, she’s no longer trying to hide that smile. Right now, I hate Ida and I hate the studio audience and I hate the home audience and I hate everyone who has anything to do with this show. Right now, they are all just projections of Ben, every single one of them. I know intellectually that I’m feeling this way because I’ve kept this toxic memory inside of me long enough to hate anyone I talk to about it, but sitting here, I feel like I’m back in that relationship and every person in this room is just another aspect of him. “We’re back in five, four, three…” Ida pats my knee for reasons alien to my understanding, and she turns toward the camera, saying, “We’re back with Emma Roxy, talking about the relationship that almost ended her career before it began.” I don’t know where she got that. The only time Ben ever got in the way of my career was before that trip to the lake. Most of the time, my success in the movies was his own

wet dream because that would only increase the value of his thrall. “Emma,” Ida says, “we’ve talked a little about your history with this man, but let’s fast-forward to when he comes back into contact with you. Did you know from the start that he was trying to blackmail you, or—” “I wouldn’t say that I knew he was going to blackmail me, specifically,” I tell her. “Once I knew who I was talking to, though, I knew the conversation wasn’t going to mean anything good.” “How much did he ask for?” Ida asks. “While Ben’s still in pretrial, my attorney advised me not to go into specifics on that, but I can tell you that it was a substantial amount,” I tell her. “Okay,” Ida says. “What can you tell us about that arrangement?” The way she speaks the words makes them come across less accusatory than she actually means it. “He informed me that he had those photographs of me, and that, if I didn’t want them to become public, I’d do what he wanted me to do,” I answer. “And you went along with this?” Ida asks. “I didn’t know what else to do at the time,” I tell her. “Maybe that sounds stupid, but —” “No, sweetie,” she says in a saccharine voice that only proves my point that nobody’s going to be able to replace Oprah, “it’s not stupid at all.” “This all happened, the blackmail, after we started working on this movie and it’s my first major feature, so I was trying to keep my name out of the tabloids if at all possible,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she says, and I’m done pretending. “You know what?” I ask. “That’s actually not true. The truth is that I remembered what I looked like the weekend those pictures were taken—at least that I had bruises all over me. I didn’t want that to be what people saw when they came to my movies or when they met me in person. I don’t want those bruises to be what my life is all about. Maybe that’s what’s happened now, maybe not. It’s too soon to tell, but I just didn’t want people to see the bruises.” “So it wasn’t the nudity that bothered you so much; it was the bruises?” Ida asks, and she jerks back a little when she sees the look on my face. It’s not a happy one. “I like my privacy,” I tell her, “but the bruises are the bigger deal to me, as they were at the time.” “What do you see when you look at those bruises?” Ida asks. “I really haven’t looked at the pictures,” I tell her. “I glanced at them briefly a while ago to make sure that I was being blackmailed with something he actually had, but as soon as I saw what they were, I closed the file. I haven’t really looked since.” “You couldn’t bear to look at those bruises,” Ida says. “It’s not that,” I tell her. She sits quietly for a second and then asks, “What is it?” “They’re different things,” I tell her. “I didn’t want the pictures released to the public because I didn’t like the thought of everyone seeing what he’d done to me. I didn’t want to look at the pictures myself, because…” “It’s all right,” she says, at the first sign of hesitation. “I hate the fact that I’m smiling,” I tell her. “In every one of those pictures, I’m smiling. That’s when I really started to feel like he had me in a way that I couldn’t

possibly escape. He could take pictures of my battered, naked body and still get me to smile for the camera. I didn’t like that then and I don’t like that now.” “I was going to ask about that—a lot of people, even after you gave your press conference, thought that those pictures might have been doctored in one way or another,” she says. “Whether it was the bruises that might be fake or that you weren’t actually naked in the original and someone put in another person’s—you know how that sort of thing works,” she says. “The one thing that always chilled me to the bone, though, was that smile on your face.” I wonder if we should be discussing why she was looking at the pictures in the first place. That just seems like a lot of schadenfreude for an ostensibly bubbly and caring member of the talk show community. “I’ve got to be honest,” she says, “when I saw that first photograph, I thought those pictures might have been doctored, too. It was that smile. I couldn’t imagine someone going through all of that and still being able to put a smile on her face—” “I didn’t do it out of courage,” I interrupt her. “I did it out of fear. There’s nothing inspiring about that smile; it’s a smile that I wore because I didn’t want to make him angry.” “You did what you had to do,” Ida says. “I think that’s the best way to think about it, because who knows what could have happened if you refused? He could have beaten you or he could have drowned you in the lake—there’s no telling what—” “I don’t like to think about that,” I interrupt her. “Even now, it still feels, sometimes, like I’m playing with someone else’s poker chips and at any moment, he’s going to come back to claim me and put me in that place again.” “Powerful words,” Ida says, though I have no idea what she’s referencing. “We’ll be back after this break for our last segment with Emma Roxy. Stay with us,” she says.

“And we’re out!” Ida leans toward me for a moment and says, “I noticed I touched a couple of nerves in that last segment. Don’t worry, the next one is all about the bright future you’ve got ahead of you and the wonderful ways in which you are blessed and blah, blah, blah,” she says. “There shouldn’t be anything too drastic.” At least it’s nice to know the mask comes off. “Yeah,” I say. “Could someone get me some water?” Ida snaps her fingers, gets someone’s attention I can’t see, and mouthes the word “water” while pointing at me. I see the man run off the set and I look over the crowd. Some of the audience members are looking at me or otherwise toward the stage, but the rest of them have their heads turned, talking to each other. Almost everyone in the room is smiling. I glance back and see the man coming toward the stage, but one of the directors or someone in similar position of authority stops him. The man’s looking back and forth between me and the man that’s holding him up, talking to him. He nods a couple of times and then just stands there as the man who stopped him calls out, “And we’re back in five, four, three…” “We’re back with Emma Roxy,” Ida Falcone says, and it’s not until that moment the man with my bottle of water is allowed to come up to the stage and hand it to me. They wanted to make sure they got it on tape and they couldn’t do that if we weren’t “back.” I unscrew the lid and take a sip of the water, just to ease my throat, and Ida turns back to me. “Now, we’ve heard some of the terrible things that you’ve gone through,” she says, “but you’ve also got a lot to look forward to, don’t you?”

The way she phrases it, I don’t know how to answer. “Yeah,” I tell her. “I suppose.” “Well, you are dating Damian Jones, aren’t you? I’d say that’s something to look forward to,” she says, and the audience cheers. Maybe it’s the shortened “commercial break,” but I’m having trouble seeing how they’re going to make this drastic transition work on broadcast. “We’ve gotten to know each other a bit over these past few months,” I answer. The rest of the conversation is just more of the boring drivel that I thought I’d end up missing after Ben sent off the pictures. I still don’t miss it. Finally, the show’s over and Ida and I pose for some pictures on the stage—although it’s not entirely clear who’s taking the pictures and why—and she points me back toward Sweater Guy, still standing in that same spot, just offstage. “You did great,” he says as I get close. “I thought that was a very powerful show. How did you think it went?” “I think she’s kind of a cunt, but you seem like a decent guy,” I answer, and just keep walking as he stops. It’s the middle of the day and I’ve still got to get back to the set and lay down a couple of scenes. We’re getting so close to wrapping up filming and I’m just wondering what I’m going to do with my time. I’ve gotten a lot of offers since those pictures came out, more than a few from Lifetime, but nothing’s standing out to me. Now that I’m almost done with my breakthrough film, I have an enormous decision to make: what kind of actress am I going to be?

Recent events are lending a lot of opportunities for me in the revenge genre, but I don’t want my work to be about my life. That’s kind of the exact opposite of what it’s supposed to be. Taking everything outside of my career itself out of the picture for a moment, the first big question is whether I’m going to stick with lighter movies, comedies with big name actors and that sort of thing, or if I want to branch out straight out of the gate. I could always do another film similar to Flashing Lights and then try something else after I’ve gotten some more notoriety (for my work as an actress), but the problem with that is that I’d have to fight being typecast. There’s still time for me to figure it out and the offers seem to keep coming, so I’m not going to let my small death onscreen a few minutes ago be overshadowed with simpler worries like my career. I get out to the parking lot and I’m mobbed by women from the audience, and once they recognize me, random people walking by the studio set. Nobody’s asking for an autograph right off the bat, which is kind of surreal. Mostly, everyone just wants to tell me that they wish me well and that they’re glad I got out of such a bad situation, etc., etc., etc. I’m working my way through the crowd and the first few headshots start to come out, their owners looking for a signature. The crowd loves me now, but if I start refusing autographs to this many people without someone standing next to me telling everyone that I’ve got to go, this could turn ugly pretty quick, so I start signing. With all these people handing me headshots and photos from magazines and T-shirts, I’m not worried about writing personal messages to everyone. I’m just trying to get

through so I can leave. For the most part, the people around me are respectful, but as more time passes, the people toward the back want to get closer and the people at the front don’t want to leave where they are and I start getting jostled around a little bit. I’m starting to lose my balance when someone grabs my arm and pulls me upright and toward them. “I have a few pictures I’d love for you to sign,” the man says, and I look up, horrified. It’s Ben. He’s wearing a hat and aviator sunglasses, I assume because if he didn’t, these people around me would tear him to shreds, but it’s him. “You can’t be here,” I tell him, trying to keep as calm a look on my face as possible. “I’m out on bail,” he says. “I’m a free man, and I plan on staying that way. I’m going to need you to ease back with all the stories you’re telling about me,” he says. “And I want you to drop the charges against me. If you don’t,” he says, “I’ll kill you before this thing ever gets to trial.” My head slams into Ben’s face, and I swear I can feel the cartilage in his nose popping out of place. When I lift up my head again, he’s standing there, covering his bleeding nose with both hands. I’ve broken his glasses. Someone in the crowd shouts, “That’s him!” Someone else yells, “Get him!” “No!” I shout with all the force of my lungs. The people around me stop in their places, though they’re now restraining Ben. “We are going to call the police and he’s going to go back to jail,” I shout. “We’re going to show him that we’re better than he is.” There seems to be general agreement among the group, though there are still a few people throwing bottles and various detritus at him.

This is just going to be one more thing in the papers and on television, and I’m sure if the internet’s not broken already, it’s got to be nearing that end, but right now, I’m not so worried about that. Really, I’m just feeling pretty good about the throbbing pain in my forehead and the fear in Ben’s eyes as he continues to bleed while someone calls the cops. Nobody’s physically holding him back now, but nobody’s going to let him leave here, either. Along with the restraining order I should have filed years ago, Ben will now be receiving another set of charges, and if I’m lucky, he’ll be too old and decrepit when he comes out to even consider trying to come back into my life a third time. The police arrive with an ambulance not far behind them and they take Ben away. We’re all standing around for a long time talking to the police, but eventually, they let us go. I tell one of the officers that I want to file a restraining order against Ben and he gives me a quick lowdown of the process involved with that. I’m not a violent person. In fact, I deplore violence. That said, though, nothing in my life has ever felt better than making that son of a bitch bleed.

Chapter Eighteen Making Amends to Those Who Deserve It Damian It’s our last day of filming. I’ve personally set back production by about three weeks: a personal best. Things are starting to turn around, though. With Ben finally remanded, Emma’s doing a lot better. With Danna planning to move back in tonight, a lot of crap is finally off my mind. Danna’s decision to move back came as a bit of a surprise. She had, like she said she would, sent someone to pick up her things and her stuff was gone, all of it. Then, out of the blue a few days ago, I get a call from her saying that she’s had a change of heart, and if I’d still have her, she’d be happy to move back in with me. My sister, my twin—she can be quite the handful, and she has mood swings like nobody I’ve ever met, but she’s always been there. Even when we weren’t together, we were always talking, and being completely out of contact with her, even for such a short time, was more difficult than I thought it would be. Maybe it’s a twin thing, maybe it’s a dead parents thing, but when you’ve been through a certain kind of chaos for long enough, you really start to value the things that don’t change and the people that stick around. I’m just glad that Danna decided to remain one of those people that stick around. Before I get to the set, I stop by Ed’s hospital room. We’ve been getting along a little

better now that he’s dying. I’d love to be able to put it less bluntly than that, but I’m pretty convinced that if the old rotten bastard wasn’t dying, we’d never have been able to bury the hatchet as much as we have. “Shit,” he says as I walk into his room, “it’s you.” “Yeah,” I tell him. “It’s me.” “Haven’t I told you never to come back here?” he asks. “Every time I’ve come to visit,” I answer. “Stubborn,” he says. “I guess I can respect that.” “You’re calling me stubborn?” I ask. “You were supposed to die weeks ago.” “True,” he says, “but I’ve never been that good about keepin’ to a schedule.” “Have they found a heart for you yet?” I ask. “Nothin’ yet,” he says. “Mine’s hanging in there better than the doctors thought it would, though. Son,” he says, “I think there’s something we need to talk about.” Son? That was a bit unsettling. “What?” I ask. His mouth moves like he’s trying to move a bad bite of food into his cheek. “I loved my daughter,” he says. “I loved that little girl since before she was born and I love her even now that she’s been gone all these years. Do you know what it’s like for a father to see his daughter look at another man like he’s going to solve all of her problems?” he asks. “No,” I answer, “I don’t.”

“Well, it pisses ya right off,” Ed says, and has a small coughing fit. “That’s the look she’s supposed to have reserved for her father, but that’s not the way it works out. One day, the little girl becomes a young woman, and there’s someone else she thinks can take on the world in her honor, and when you started coming around, I saw that look going to you more and more. That’s why I didn’t like you while the two of you were dating.” The only thing I can think is that he knows he’s going to die and he’s just trying to clear his conscience before he goes, because despite the fact that we have made some pretty huge progress since that first visit, we’ve never been anywhere near this. “After she died,” Ed says, “I knew it wasn’t your fault, but I wanted somebody to blame and you were custom tailored for the role. Penelope and I’ve had a long, good life together and I love my wife, but Jamie was the light in both our worlds. When she was gone, I felt like hurting someone else the way that I felt hurt, and because we’d never gotten along and because she was pregnant with your child, I made that someone you. For that,” he says, “I really am truly sorry.” This isn’t what I was expecting when I came here. “Thank you,” I tell him. “That really means a lot to me.” “All that said,” he continues, “I still think you’re a pompous idiot who gets paid way too much to do something a reanimated corpse with a decent set of teeth could do.” Given the nature and number of our conversations to date, that’s still on the list of nicest things he’s ever said to me. We talk for a while until he starts to get tired, and I excuse myself with plans to see him again sometime in the next couple of days, and I walk out of that hospital feeling pretty damn good. I leave the hospital, drive straight to the set, and it’s not long before I’m in wardrobe,

getting ready to do my last scene. I’m wondering if I’m going to miss this set like I’ve missed others in the past. This is where I met Emma, so I’m sure it’s going to have a certain significance to it, but with everything else that’s happened while this movie’s been getting made, I’m not sure that significance is going to be all positive. “Are you nervous?” Tammy from wardrobe asks. “Not really,” I tell her. “It’s just another day on the set. It’s just another scene.” “Yeah,” she says, “but it’s the last one of the movie. That’s a pretty big deal.” “I guess,” I tell her. She hands me my clothes for the scene and I quickly change into them. I’ve still got makeup to go through, but in less than an hour, assuming I don’t totally blow the scene repeatedly, they’ll call a “wrap on Damian Jones,” and after that comes the wrap party, and after that comes a few weeks’ peace before I have to start making the rounds promoting this thing. “I want you to know that it’s been a real honor to work with you,” Tammy says. “You’ve really helped open my eyes to a lot of things.” That’s kind of weird, but okay. “I’m glad to hear it,” I tell her. “Where are you going from here?” “I don’t know yet,” she says. “I’m going to miss this set, though.” “Yeah,” I agree mindlessly. “I’m not.” “Well,” Tammy says, “I know that a lot’s happened since filming started, but you can’t let that be the only thing you take away from this. After all,” she says, “people get whatever they get. You can fight it, but you’re going to go crazy trying.” She gives my outfit one last once-over, and with a smile, she waves and bids me

farewell. Me, I’m stuck in place. I can’t move and I have to make a very conscious effort to breathe. “People get whatever they get,” she said. “You can fight it, but you’re going to go crazy trying.” I remember those words. I remember using those words. That’s something I told Rita that night on the phone. I haven’t told anyone about that conversation, much less any direct quotes from it. Tammy is Rita. Rita is Tammy. Part of me just wants to let her go, but I don’t know for a fact that she’s not going to just keep doing what she’s been doing if I don’t stop her, so I get out of that room and I find Trey. I ask him if he’s seen Tammy, but he hasn’t. She’s been quiet since that phone call, but she’s unpredictable. As much as I’d love to pretend that my sage advice must have simply changed her entire character and demeanor, I’m not that stupid. I ask Trey to have security stop Tammy and bring her back to the set when they spot her, but even before I go in to do my scene, I know she’s already gone. Either I’m going to have to deal with her for the duration, or something did change, though I don’t know what, and she’s going to leave me alone now. It would be great to know which. The scene I’m scheduled for right now—my last scene of the movie—is one of the first shots in the film and it’s just of me sitting in a room, correcting English homework.

There’s really nothing to screw up here, but I thought the same thing before the scene with the towels and the hotel room. This is going to be part of the opening montage, and though it’s likely this scene isn’t going to put up more than a total of 20, 30 seconds at the most, despite what I told Tammy, I am nervous. I’ve been nervous before, during, and after every scene I’ve ever done. That’s just the way it goes when you take what you do seriously. I talk with Dutch a moment and then I sit in the chair in front of Emma’s character’s stepdaughter’s homework, and I start looking over it as if I am the tutor and this is the work that I love. While I’m looking through the pages, “correcting” this and that as I go, Dutch yells action, and apparently he’s yelled cut because everyone’s cheering and Dutch is saying, “That’s a wrap on Damian Jones.” There are still more scenes to be shot before the movie’s done, and then there’s effects and editing and everything that comes with postproduction, but as far as I’m concerned, the making part of this movie is over. Looking back, I don’t know that my performance has been worthy of the Oscar I told Emma I was going to win from doing this film, even if everything inside and outside the walls of the set had gone smoothly, but that never really mattered. To be honest, I think I’d just be embarrassed if I got a nomination for this movie. It’s right around there that I finally decide to decide what I’m going to do with my career. Maybe I’ll stick with the fluff; maybe I’ll take on something more serious, more demanding. I’m not going to decide now, but I’m finally ready to think about what it is that I really want and stop treading water.

Emma is supposed to come over tonight for our own personal wrap party before the official one in two days when she’s done with her scenes, and I’d really like to get home before she shows up. Danna’s coming back tonight, and I’d really love to keep the two of them separated as completely as I can for as long as I can. Danna says she has some things to talk about and some things to apologize for, but she gave me free reign over when that happens. It’s for that and many other reasons that I’m surprised at what I find when I get home. Emma’s car is parked out front, but that’s not the strange thing. As I drive over the fading scrawls of one of Tammy’s many professions of love and at least temporary psychosis, I spot Danna and Emma sitting on the porch, drinking iced tea together. I park the car and get out, walking with a certain caution toward the pair, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. “Hey, little bro,” Danna says. “Hey, Damian,” Emma says. “Hey, you two,” I answer, and look back and forth between them. “What’s going on here?” “I got here a little early,” Emma says. “I tend to do that. Anyway, Danna was here when I pulled up and we’ve just been talking.” “Okay,” I answer, and look to Danna for her explanation, as I assume her need to oppose everything Emma will skew the report a bit one way or another. “Yeah,” Danna says, “we’ve just been talking a bit.” “Should I be worried?” I ask. “No,” Danna says. Even Emma seems to be in a good mood, a rarity for anyone when

they’ve spent a few minutes with Danna. “I’m glad that you’re back, though,” Danna says. “There are a couple of things that I wanted to talk to you about, the both of you.” “Okay,” I say, and sit down in one of the empty chairs on the porch. “What did you want to talk about?” I ask. “First off,” she says, “Emma, I know I’ve already said this, but I want to apologize for the way I’ve behaved toward you. I think a lot of it was that I didn’t want to see someone taking away my time with my brother. I think part of it was that I was trying to protect him from what I saw to be a dangerous situation. I think there’s still another part of me that just didn’t want to have to take the risk and get attached again—you know that I was very close with Jamie, right?” “Yeah,” Emma answers. “Anyway, I get that I was acting like an idiot and I’m very sorry,” Danna says. “You’re forgiven,” Emma says immediately. Danna looks over to me. “Are we good, little bro?” she asks. I narrow my eyes. “You know,” I tell her, “I think I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re planning something bad, but I’ve been proven wrong on that one in the past—” “I’m not planning anything bad,” Danna laughs. “I don’t even know what you think I would plan. I’d just like it if all of us could patch things up and get along.” “What changed your mind?” I ask. “Whatever it was must have been pretty extreme. I mean, you actually moved out over all this.” “I don’t know what you mean by ‘all this,’” Danna says, “but what changed my mind was Emma.” Emma asks, “How so?”

“It was that interview you did on Ida,” Danna says. “That’s what finally stopped seeing you as the ghost of Damian and my past, but as the person you are.” “Really?” Emma asks. “I never saw the tape, but I would have thought there would be nothing but partially veiled contempt for pretty much everyone in the room.” “Oh no, that came through pretty well in a lot of places. Not gonna lie,” Danna says, “hilarious. That’s not what did it, though. It was your smile and what you said about it in those pictures. I see pictures of myself all the time after our parents died and after my diagnosis and I want to just tear every last one of them up. I know they’re different things, but I always felt the same way about those pictures of me. Seeing that smile on my face made me feel like a liar. When you described that in your own life, I don’t know if it was just the knowledge that we had something in common or what, but I finally started listening to you as you were speaking. You may be a bit of a scandal magnet, but I think you’re someone I’d like to have around. Besides,” Danna says, “I heard about how you broke that fucker’s nose when he tried to confront you after the show. That is just so fucking hardcore, you have no idea.” Emma laughs, and though I’m still skeptical about my sister’s newfound pair of angel wings, I permit a smile to come over my face. We sit and we talk for hours, and it not groundbreaking or particularly important for any reason other than the fact that it’s happening. The words themselves don’t matter so much; it’s just the fact that they’re being spoken at all. After a while, the moving truck carrying all of Danna’s crap arrives at the house and they lug her shit into her room. She goes off to unpack while Emma and I sit down to dinner. Things are quiet for the most part. We’re just enjoying each other’s proximity. Dinner comes to an end and Emma helps me with the dishes. It seems like things are

starting to wind down when Emma asks if I’d like to go for a ride in her car. I shrug and give my consent, and so we drive, Emma at the wheel, me looking for reasons why this moment isn’t just about perfect and only coming up with a few. “I have some news,” Emma says. “Yeah?” I ask. “What’s that?” “My dad left town,” she says. “He gave me a call today to let me know that he’s back in Illinois, safe and sound, and that I don’t have to worry about him coming around anymore. Do you happen to know anything about that?” “Me?” I ask. “How would I even know how to find your dad, much less convince him to go home?” “Oh, come on,” she says. “Danna was staying at that same hotel and she denied even knowing that my father was in town, or for that matter, living.” “There are a couple of possibilities,” I tell her. “One possibility is that he realized what he was doing was wrong and he decided to stop before he made things any worse.” “Try again,” Emma says. I chuckle. “Okay,” I tell her. “Maybe he caught wind of what you did to Ben and he decided that if he didn’t get the hell out of Dodge, he’d be next.” “As great a fantasy as that is, I really don’t think that would do it, either,” she says. “I think he’d have gone on a killing spree before he’d admit, even to himself, that he was scared of his daughter.” “Well, it’s a mystery then,” I tell her. She doesn’t need to know that I ran into the guy one night after Danna started staying there and I asked him what it would take for him to leave and never come back.

Maybe I should have learned from Emma and maybe he’s just going to end up coming back for more, but I may have intimated that if we had any further trouble from him, I had some “friends” who would happily “deal” with the situation. That seemed to do the trick. We pull onto Emma’s street and her motivation to take a drive becomes clear. “You know,” she says, “things taking a turn for the better after they’ve been bad for so long has a way of making a person feel pretty damn alive.” “What do you mean?” I ask. “I’ll give you a choice,” she says after entering the code for her gate, “car or front lawn.” I laugh, but she doesn’t seem to be joking. “Front lawn?” I ask. “It’s not totally private,” she says, “but it beats driving for three hours only to end up with ants all over your body. I’m asking you to choose between the car and the front lawn, because honestly, I don’t think I can make it much further than that.” I smile and laugh, and because I’m a little worried about ants myself, I answer, “Car.” The gate’s closing behind her and Emma’s parking in her garage. She’s barely pressed the button to drop the garage door before her seat belt is off and she’s halfway out of her seat, kissing me. I manage to unfasten my own seat belt before Emma’s halfway out of her seat and into mine, tearing my shirt open as she moves from one side of the car to the other. “You’re in a good mood today,” I tell her. “I told you I was,” she says between hot, hard kisses.

She’s ripping her own shirt from her body, and I’m undoing her bra, allowing her perfect breasts to breathe. I coyly tongue her nipples, and she’s lifting her body to allow herself better access to undo my belt and my pants. Before I even know it, she’s facing away from me, sitting on my lap, and she reaches over to the side of the seat and leans it back all the way. “There,” she says and turns back around to face me with more ease than one would think possible given the limited amount of space we have to work with, “that’s better.” “You know,” I tell her, “you could have just asked.” “I know,” she says, “but I was trying to stay in the moment.” That seems fair enough. “Put your hands flat on my sides, fingers pointing down just above my waistline,” she says. I tease her specificity, but I do as I’m told. Emma unbuttons her pants and unzips the zipper. “Slide your hands down my legs,” she says. “My pants should come right off.” “You’ve done this before,” I muse, and per her instructions, I slide my hands down the sides of her legs, taking a moment to grasp that movie star ass of hers. I slip her pants down as far as I can and she kicks her legs out from there. When she moves her bare gorgeousness toward me again, she places one knee on the outside of each of my legs, and without another moment’s hesitation, she lowers herself onto my hard and waiting erection. Instinctively, I grab my shaft, and as I slip out of her just a little, I start working my

tip over her already swollen bud when she grabs my hand and stops me. “I think we can spare the upholstery a deluge,” she says, and replacing my hand with hers on my penis, she puts me back at the mouth of her entrance and lowers herself onto me again. We kiss and our bodies writhe together, every intentional and unintentional touch of her skin against mine only taking me more completely into the sensuality of right now. She presses her body into mine, and I hold her close, running my fingertips over her upper back as she rides me. Her hips are churning over me and I lift my butt just enough to add that extra bit of momentum as she falls completely onto me. “That’s it,” she tells me. “Now, grab my hips,” she says. “I don’t have a lot of room to move, so you’re going to have to help me if you want me to fuck you harder.” “I can’t believe I used to think you were a prude,” I tell her, putting my hands on her hips. “All right,” she says. “Do it hard and with my rhythm,” and I let my hands move with her body to familiarize myself with her pace before I strengthen my grip enough to guide her body with greater drive up and down my erection. Glancing out the rearview mirror, I see how the car is rocking, and I chuckle with a pretty decent amount of immaturity. Emma kisses me on the mouth, and although I’m not sure whether it’s because she’s in the moment or because she just want me to shut up, I’m happy to focus my attention back on her. I move my hands from Emma’s hips and place one hand across her back onto the opposite shoulder and the other around her lower back, my hand resting just above her hip

on the other side, and I pull her even closer as I continue bringing her down faster and harder onto me. “Oh God,” she says, “oh yeah. I’m going to come, baby,” she says, and a moment later, she’s quivering in my arms. We’re kissing and there’s not a sliver of air between us as the tempo increases and the feeling begins to crescendo and it’s all I can do to keep enough air in my lungs. “I’m going to…” she trails off, and the next sound from her is a loud, enthusiastic moan that seems to stretch on forever as a single note of the most perfect symphony. I’m getting close myself seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, and tasting this woman. She’s immaculate, and that’s when she says it. She’s still coming hard on top of me and her hips are moving furiously, though the rest of her body is comparatively still, and in a long whisper, she says, “I love you.” A few seconds later and Emma’s slowing her pace, and she opens one eye to look at me because I haven’t said anything yet. After another half minute, Emma’s motionless with me still inside her, and she’s looking at me with those wide eyes, saying, “I love you, Damian,” and I could swear that before she says the words, I had the ability to speak, to respond, to say something, but that’s gone now and getting only further away with every breath that passes with me not saying anything. More seriously now, Emma looks hard into my eyes and repeats, one last time, those words, “I love you.” I know the worst thing I can do here is not answer, but I’m incapable of anything else at the moment. Whether it’s that so much has happened over so few months or whether it’s all that

stuff Danna said about Emma still rattling around in the back of my head or whether I’m still a little resentful that she didn’t say it back to me that first time, I haven’t a clue, but she’s starting to lose her patience and I’m just sitting here.

Epilogue Synchronicity Emma “Things don’t always happen as we plan,” I tell Brock Emsley, host of Late Night with the Stars, one of the five or six top late night talk shows currently out there. “Sometimes, it’s all you can do to take the leap and see what happens.” “Well,” Brock says, “it looks like that philosophy’s been working pretty well for you so far. I want to thank you for coming to see us and chat for a little bit about what you’ve got going on,” he says, and turns from me to the hot camera. “After these messages, we’ll be back with a very special live performance by Sons of Anatolia. Stay with us.” The red light goes off and Brock leans over, and shaking my hand, he says, “Thank you so much for coming. It’s always nice to have an Oscar winner on the set.” “It’s been a pleasure,” I tell him, and when directed, I follow a man in a blazer off the stage. The Oscar, that wasn’t for Flashing Lights. After all the hell and tumult that went on during the filming of my first major role, the movie opened to a modest reception. The first couple of weeks saw huge numbers, but after everyone subconsciously realized that they’d seen that film a hundred different times and the immediacy of my world of scandal began to fade, Flashing Lights slowly sunk into the distance. The reviews weren’t too bad, though.

The award, I won for a role I played as Margaret Thatcher. One of my reviews even went so far as to say that I managed to make my character likeable, which, according to the author of the review, was a feat that he didn’t even imagine possible. I’ve never been that interested in politics, myself. It’s been a long time since Flashing Lights and it feels like it’s been even longer. After his role as the English-tutor-turned my-character’s-lover in Lights, Damian Jones took another long break from making movies, and when he came back, he was a different man. For the first time in his career, Damian wasn’t just the eye candy with the nice smile. He started taking roles that not only challenged him, but were new, different. He started taking roles because they were outside of his comfort zone instead of sticking to the world of summer comedies. Things haven’t been all upside for Damian, though, as his former-would-be-father-inlaw, Ed, passed away waiting for a new heart. That was one of the reasons Damian stayed offscreen for so long. The two had made their peace, although, from what I’ve heard, the two of them never stopped talking shit to one another even until the very end. Penelope lived for another year, but without her husband and her daughter, she just didn’t have the will to fight when she got splenic cancer. Probably the most difficult thing I’ve had to deal with since Lights was Ben’s trial. I had to testify about everything that had happened, and that took more out of me than I thought I had to give, but in the end, the jury came back unanimously: guilty on all counts. He tried to play our entire relationship as if I was constantly pursuing him, and he said that the bruises I got, I had asked for as part of some ultraviolent roleplay. I kind of

wanted to go up there and give him another face full of my forehead, but the presence of the judge and bailiff sufficiently convinced me to reconsider. He can rot in prison for all I care. As for me, well, the job offers are still coming in. I’m just waiting for the next script that’s going to have that spark—Damian likes to call it “heart,” though he always seems to laugh after using the word. Right now, though, I’m heading home. The house is quiet when I get there and I just sit out back with a nice, tall Long Island iced tea. I’m hardly settled when some invasive prick decides to move his filthy shadow directly between me and the sun. What most people don’t understand is that Damian and I don’t do so well with labels. Well, really, it’s just him that seems to have the issue with it. If someone asks if we’re still together, I say yes. If they ask if I’m still Damian Jones’s girlfriend, I say no. In the end, really, it was my choice. After that day in the front seat of my car when dumbass couldn’t find his fucking tongue to speak, I insisted that we stop thinking of or referring to each other as boyfriend or girlfriend or significant other or any of that. Even the term “relationship” is used a little sparsely around the house. Once the words changed, Damian stopped having such a problem when it came time to move on to the next level. His presence here and now is testament enough of that. In normal people terms, Damian and I are about the equivalent to people in a serious relationship who live together, but in our terms, we’re roommates. “Saw the show,” he says, “you did great.”

I sigh. “You know,” I tell him, “if you’re going to blow smoke up my ass at least do the legwork beforehand.” “What are you talking about?” he asks. “The show doesn’t come on until 10 o’clock,” I tell him. “Yeah,” he says, “but I’ve seen enough of your performances that I’m going to stick with what I said. Call it a preemptive compliment.” “Where’s Danna?” I ask. “She’s off with some guy,” he says. “I don’t remember his name, but he’s the one with all the tattoos and the piercings.” “Uh…” I’m trying to think. “That would be Carl, right?” “I don’t even know anymore,” he says. “After she decided to take her ass off of layaway, it’s gotten impossible to keep track of all her guys.” “He seemed like a pretty nice guy when I talked to him,” I tell Damian. “I’m sure he is,” Damian says. “I’m sure they all are.” And now I don’t know if he’s joking or not. When Damian and I first talked about moving in together, Danna was the first thing that we talked about. She and I had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, but after that day and after that talk show, she and I finally started getting along. Now, whenever shithead (Damian) is out of the house, it’s the two of us, Danna and me. I think all she really needed was assurance that I didn’t think I was, neither did I think I would or could, replace Jamie. That was never my goal. I never knew Jamie, but I know enough about her to know that she meant a great deal

to Damian and Danna, and I have no reason to feel I need to replace her in their memories, not that I could of I had wanted to anyway. “What are we doing tonight?” I ask. “I thought the three of us might go out tonight,” he says. “I heard about this new seafood restaurant that just opened up downtown and I got us some reservations for later. Does that work?” “I hate seafood,” I tell him. “What else do they have?” “I think that’s it,” Damian says. Damian’s been living here for over a year now and Danna’s been here just as long. At first, he was considering keeping his house as a getaway for Danna, but after the first four months of her never going back to Damian’s old place, he finally decided to let it go. In some ways, I do resent Jamie, though I’d never say that to Damian or Danna. She was Damian’s first great love and that’s a hard act to follow, especially considering the horrible tragedy of her death and that of the baby. Maybe it’s not resentment so much as it is a wish that Damian had allowed himself to keep some doors open for the future. For one thing, I wouldn’t mind knowing that I might someday get married, but until or unless something drastically changes in the wiring of Damian’s brain, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. I find myself wondering a lot what Jamie must have been like, and if she’d survived, would she and I be friends? Judging on how Damian and Danna have talked about her in the past, it seems unlikely that Damian and Jamie would have gotten divorced and so, if she’d lived, my arrival on the set of Flashing Lights would have been a lot different. I’m not sure if Damian and I would have hit it off as friends if he was married, but that kind of pondering is simple curiosity.

“What about Rodolfo’s?” I ask. It does bug me when people are late, and Danna has a penchant for forgetting the time when she’s out with someone. Those are about the only spats she and I have anymore, though. I just think it would be good to see her. I feel like she’s been gone on a date for at least the last few weeks. “I’ll call her,” he says, “but she’s not going to be too happy about you overriding her restaurant pick.” “Oh, so the new seafood place was her idea?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “All right,” I tell him, “let’s go there.” “Were you just saying no because you thought I’d picked the place?” he asks. “Do you remember what happened last time?” I ask. It’s a long story involving a restaurant with experimental food and an eel that wasn’t quite dead. Yeah, after that, he lost the privilege to have an opinion on where to go for dinner. “Just because I’ve picked a couple of bad places,” he says, “doesn’t mean that every place I’m going to tell you about is no good.” “Granted,” I tell him, “but going with your pick is a gamble, and I could really use the meal. I haven’t had anything to eat today.” “Sounds like bad planning,” he says and starts walking away, his phone in his hand, ready to call Danna. “You know,” Damian says, turning around, “I got an interesting call today.” “Yeah?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he answers. “It was Dutch. He wanted to know if the two of us would be interested in doing another movie together.” “Did he mean the two of us as in you and him or the two of us as in me and you?” I ask, praying for a misunderstanding. “The two of us,” he says, “as in me and you.” “No,” I answer quickly. “Sorry, and please tell Dutch I say ‘thank you for the offer,’ but I really don’t think I can work with you.” “We seemed to do all right the first time,” he says. “It got us together.” “Yeah,” I tell him, “and it just as easily could have torn us apart. It almost did, if you remember.” “This movie’s different,” he says, as if that has anything to do with anything. “It’s a period piece. They want you to play a woman named…” and he goes on to describe the movie. It’s an interesting enough plot, filled with romance and suspense, but with a cerebral, modern edge to it. The longer Damian talks, the more excited he seems, and I do feel kind of bad when he gets to the end of his spiel and I simply repeat my answer, “No.” We haven’t worked together since Flashing Lights, and as much as I love the man, I really don’t think us working together and living together would end up being a good idea. “Okay,” he says. “If you’re not into it, you’re not into it. I will say, though, that my agent called Academy Awards for the leading male and the leading female roles, and if we were to do this thing together, that would be—” “Yeah,” I interrupt. “That would be us, I get it. I remember the last time someone in your family called an award, and if I’m not mistaken, you didn’t even get nominated for

Lights, did you?” “I was just trying to get in your pants,” he says. “Well, it worked, I guess,” I tell him. “If you ignore just about everything else that’s happened since we’ve met, you can absolutely thank your calling your award for our relationship.” “It wasn’t that bad of a movie,” he says. “I never said it was a bad movie,” I tell him. “I’m just saying that I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of us to work together.” “Fine,” he says. “I’ll let my agent know.” Damian and Danna found it useful to compartmentalize their relationship so that, for anything work-related, Damian talks to her and refers to her as his agent. For everything else, she’s still his twin sister. You know, the funny thing is that the two of them really don’t look all that much alike. Damian walks off and calls Danna and I just take another sip of my Long Island iced tea. By the time he comes back, I’ve almost finished the drink. “So, I don’t know if you remember my old assistant Kieran,” Damian says as he nears me again, “but he just got his first director job.” “Good for him,” I reply. “I guess,” Damian says. “I always thought the guy was kind of an idiot, but maybe he just hadn’t found his calling yet.” “Is Danna going to be joining us for dinner?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Apparently, her date isn’t going so well, so she’s on her way home

now.” “Oh no, trouble with the pincushion?” I ask. “She didn’t say exactly what happened,” Damian says. “She just said that she left him rolling on the floor after she gave him a knee to the groin.” “Your sister kind of scares me,” I tell him. “Yeah,” he says, “me, too.” I finish up my drink and we head inside. I’ve grown to really care for Danna, but there’s a very specific reason that I’m eager to talk to her. Along with being Damian’s agent, she’s my agent, too. The idea was Damian’s, originally, but Danna and I both rejected it then out of hand. It wasn’t until we got together alone a few weeks later that we actually started to take the arrangement seriously. There are still offers coming in all the time, but I have, very recently, been informed about a job that I think would fit my abilities remarkably well. The trick is going to be getting Damian to leave the two of us alone for five seconds so Danna and I can talk about it. I pop into the bathroom and take a quick look at myself in the mirror, but Late Night with the Stars did a pretty damn good job making me look absolutely sumptuous. Danna gets home and I try to talk to her, but Damian walks in, interrupting us. When I tell him that it’s professional business with my agent, he pulls up a chair. He’s not dumb, but sometimes Damian isn’t very smart. Danna and I agree to talk later, but that doesn’t happen until we’re at the restaurant and Danna “accidentally” spills her water on Damian’s lap. He goes off to the restroom to

dry off and Danna leans toward me. “This is what you really want to do?” she asks. “They need a firm answer pretty fast or else they’re going to start making other calls.” “Yeah,” I tell her, “let’s do it. I heard the synopsis and I just knew that I had to be in this movie.” “Save that for the interviews,” she says, spearing a piece of broccoli with her fork. Danna’s not big on enthusiasm. “You don’t think there’ll be any fallout if I take the part?” I ask. “How should I know?” she asks. “Well, you’re my agent,” I tell her. “Isn’t that part of your job?” “That,” she says, “is most certainly not part of my job.” “Remind me what I pay you for again?” I ask. “I get you exposure, give you a bargaining chip, and I’m easy on the eyes,” she says. “I think any one of those is worth my fee. You people really don’t pay me enough.” “We’re both paying you 15 percent,” I tell her. “That’s really not bad.” “I guess,” she says, and Damian comes back to the table. “I always get a little nervous when I leave the two of you alone to talk,” he says. “What do you think we’re going to do?” she asks. “Do the end around and scam you out of a role—ow!” My toes hurt a bit and I feel a little bad about kicking her, but without any calls having been made yet, I’d really like to wait before I tell Damian the news. I wonder if we’ll celebrate tonight the way we usually do when one of us lands a hot

role. Dinner is reasonably uneventful, but Damian keeps shifting his gaze between Danna and I as he tries to figure out just what we’re up to. “Why don’t I make that call so we can talk about this?” Danna asks. “Fine by me,” I tell her. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damian says. Danna excuses herself and takes a walk outside to make her phone call, and I’m running my foot up Damian’s calf, wondering how far he’s going to let me get before he scoots back. He doesn’t. When I get up to his knee, I use it to slip my shoe off my foot and I give him a touch of quick, covert pleasure before I pull my foot back and kick my fallen shoe toward me. “You know,” I tell him, “that might be a pretty long phone call.” Damian smiles and says, “You think?” “It’s hard to say,” I tell him. “Sometimes she’s quick like a bunny. Other times, she’s on the horn for hours trying to work out the details, but either way, I bet we could slip into the ladies’ room and back before—” “So I talked to Chet,” Danna says, startling me as she returns to the table, “he said the role’s yours if you want it.” “Congratulations!” Damian says. And this is where it gets a little awkward. “Yeah, about that,” I tell him. “Listen, I took that role you told me about by the pool.” “You’re in?” he asks. “That’s fantastic! I’m telling you, it’s going to be a good thing,

us working together.” “That’s the thing,” I tell him. “I still feel really strongly that the two of us should keep our projects separate.” The childlike excitement drains from his face. “You’re telling me that you’re taking a role in the movie that I told you about and I’m not allowed to take the role that I was offered in that same movie because you want to keep our projects separate?” he asks. “Yeah,” I tell him, “pretty much.” I turn toward Danna and ask, “Have either of you had the dessert here? I’m not totally full, but I’m close enough that if I’m going to have anything else, it’s going to have to be really worth it.” Damian just sighs and slinks back a little in his chair. “I love you, pookie,” I tell him, and blow him a kiss.

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Newsletter: – Click here to get an email as soon as the next book in the series is available. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams