Nicole Blanchard (First to Fight 2) Survivor [ang]

Survivor Copyright © 2016 by Nicole Blanchar All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below. Bolero Books LLC 11956 Bernardo Plaza Dr. #510 San Diego, CA 92128 www.buybolerobooks.com

All rights reserved. Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents TITLE PAGE COPYRIGHT SYNOPSIS DEDICATION ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN

TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR ALSO BY NICOLE BLANCHARD SNEAK PEEK OF WARRIOR

SYNOPSIS I knew falling in love with him was bad for us both, but I did it anyway. For a brief moment, we had it all. Even though he was leaving to join the Marines and I had four years of college ahead of me, he was everything I ever wanted, but didn’t think I deserved. But real life has a way of dashing dreams—and that happy future we envisioned together? It disappeared at the hands of a monster. Ten years have passed, and I’m not the same naïve girl who believed in

happily-ever-afters. When my mother passes away and I find myself caring for my two teenage brothers, the last thing on my mind should be reconnecting with the hottie-turned-hero who I loved at seventeen. If I want a second chance at his heart, I’ll have to trust him with the secrets that tore us apart. Please note there is a graphic scene that may be a trigger for some.

To survivors of rape and sexual assault.

You matter.

Present

EVERY RATIONAL BONE in my body is screaming for me to turn around, get back in my car, and return to sanity. But Varanos are not built for sensible decisions. We take risks, break rules, and say fuck the consequences.

Which is probably why I’m always getting myself into trouble. But that’s a story for another time. My black boots with the three-inch heel, another poor choice on my part, sink into the thick layers of mud and muck. I yank them free with a sucking sound and frown at the glop plastered all the way up to my ankle. So far, not so good. I was a lot better at this when I was seventeen. Skirting around the edge of the tree line, I make sure to stay bathed in shadows until the last light winks out in the windows. Then I make my move. I manage to dash across the neatly kept yard, made hazardous by the seven

inches of rain, without face-planting or destroying my boots any further. A girl has to have priorities. The wraparound porch looks exactly like I remember it, deep and inviting. The swing creaks lazily in the night breeze, the worn pillows the same faded blue as the curtains fluttering in the front windows. I say a mental prayer as I tiptoe around the boards that used to creak. They may have been repaired in the ten years since I visited last, but I’m not going to take any chances. I make it to the windows without a sound and give myself a mental pat on the back. Maybe I’ve still got it after all. I wedge my fingers under the edge of the window, cursing the damage I do to my

new manicure, and heave. It takes a couple tries, but it finally gives way with a long, low creeeaaak. My biceps freeze and my breath catches in my chest as I strain into the darkness for any sign that I’ve been made. Minutes pass without a peep and my breath releases in a woosh. Almost there. Those four years of gymnastics come in handy at the most interesting times. New to the list is squeezing through windows. I go feet first, slowly, until I find my footing on the wood floors beneath, then I arch my back and squeeze my small, though still adequately sized breasts through the opening. I pause, perched on the floor in the living room

beneath the window to listen for any stirring from upstairs. It’s only a few seconds, but it’s long enough for my nose and brain to pull memories to the forefront simply by the smell—lavender and cotton. It was my mom’s favorite scent. She used it with everything. Her laundry detergent. Her potpourri. The shampoo she used to clean the rugs. Apparently, she hadn’t been able to get the air conditioning unit fixed either because its rattling hum can still be heard clear across the house. I shake my head to clear it of the memories. Focus. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I’m glad I waited before I started fumbling through the room. It may still

smell and sound the same, but everything else is completely different. Underneath the comforting scent of lavender and cotton is the sweet ripeness of garbage and the dull, cloying smell of dirt and dust. A thick layer of it covers everything. I look down and dust off my boots, noticing my feet have made faerie sized tracks on the hardwood floors. “Shit,” I hiss. There’s nothing I can do about it now. All I can do is finish what I came here to do and get the hell out before I get sucked back into this time warp. The 90’s were fan-fuckingtastic, but I have no wish to reminisce. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. Deeming the area safe, I straighten

and tread lightly across the living room to the spare room my mom used as an office. If I’m lucky, I can find what I’m looking for there without having to search the rest of the house. Thankfully, the door is open and I’m able to slip through without making a sound. The streetlight outside the window shines through the open curtains, illuminating the space. Boxes cover every surface and I grumble underneath my breath. I’d hoped to get here before they started packing everything up. There are still books on the shelves and half-empty cabinets underneath, so maybe they haven’t gone through my room yet. I begin my search with the shelves

that haven’t been packed, hoping to find it the first place I look. Apparently, I’m not lucky after all because it isn’t in any of the remaining cabinets or on any of the half-packed shelves. There are around ten or so boxes stuffed to the brim with books and office supplies, so I pick one at random and start digging through. I get through five of them before I give up on the office. None of the boxes have any of my old crap in them, so Mom probably never cleaned out my old room. The hall is empty when I peer through the crack in the door. I squeeze out of the office and sneak down the hall to the last door on the right—my old room. Unlike the office, this one is shut tight.

My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob, but I shake myself. I left this place a long time ago so there’s no reason for it to bother me. Twisting firmly, I shove through, pausing for a second to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. The scents are still the same here, too. My Japanese cherry blossom perfume hasn’t changed in ten years, either. The double bed shoved on the far side of the wall is bare, but everything else is exactly as I left it when I moved out, right down to the teeming hamper by my closet. Emotion threatens, but I swallow it back, shoving it deep inside my chest. I move to the folding doors that

house my closet and slide one open. Here I find the boxes of all of my stuff— presumably from the rest of the house, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I stretch my hand up and feel around the lip of the closet’s interior wall for the loose panel. My fingers skitter along the fake wood until a section of it moves. My fingers touch paper and relief loosens my straining muscles. They hadn’t found them. My momentary happiness drains away when my eyes catch the barest movement in the shadows across the room. Heart thudding viciously in my chest, my feet automatically inch toward the door to make my escape. I nearly make it to my bedroom door when I hear

a lamp cord yank down, then the room floods with light. I freeze, my hand clutching the papers behind my back. Caught. Ten years ago, having this boy—this man—in my room would have thrilled me straight to the core. Now, I’m overcome with the urge to turn tail and run. He is perfection from the top of his just-long-enough-to-grab black hair down to the bottom of his customary black Converse sneakers. The sight of those worn out shoes makes me want to smile. He’s had them since we were kids. From the looks of it, they’ve seen better days, but I couldn’t imagine him without them. A pang shoots through my heart and the spurt of happiness fades,

replaced by a bone-deep weariness. “’Lo, Sof,” he says. The words bubble out of my mouth before I can swallow them along with the rush of emotions. “I can explain.”

My mouth twists. “Really? Well, I’d hate to miss this.” I wave a hand. “Please. Give it your best shot.” Her mouth opens and closes a couple times and instead of the rush of anger I expect, all I feel is regret. I’m getting too old for this shit.

Weariness clips my words, makes my tone short and harsh. “That’s what I thought.” Being in this room is a clusterfuck all on it’s own. I roll my shoulders and glance at the walls, certain they’re closing in on me. A bunker would be more comfortable than being trapped in this room with the woman who kicked me to the curb. Forcing myself to face her, I sigh heavily. I shouldn’t have come down here to confront her when I heard the window open, followed by her muttered curse. But I’d lain in bed, in her house, surrounded by ghosts of her and given in to the need to see her face. Because I’m a fucking tool.

A flush darkens her neck and travels to her cheeks. I scowl at her, causing her chin to jerk up and her eyes to flash. Anger I can deal with. Anything is better than letting my dick get off on her skintight jeans and dangerously low-cut shirt. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the door jam and study her. She’s looking down at her feet and over my shoulder, anything to keep from looking me in the eye. Even though I know I’ll regret it later, I take in how much her hair has grown, nearly down to her ass now. It’s pulled back in a tie at her nape, but the sleek like of it winks around her shoulders. “There were some things of mine I

wanted to get before the house was ransacked by relatives.” I raise a brow. “So you thought sneaking in through a window in the middle of the night was a good idea?” “What’s the matter, Jack?” she spits back. “Are you upset I didn’t crawl through the window to get to your room instead?” “No,” I respond mildly. “I’m upset you didn’t come here to see your brothers. Or your mother. But I shouldn’t be surprised. You left all of us in the dust a long time ago.” Her face leaches of all color. For a moment her lip trembles faintly, the show of emotion so hastily covered with scorn I can’t be sure it was ever there.

“My family is none of your business.” “You’ve got that wrong.” My voice is low, lethal. “Your family has been my business for the past decade. What they aren’t…is yours. I hope you got what you were looking for because if you’re not off of this property in the next five minutes, I’ll have Logan over here in ten to escort you off.” It’s an empty threat, but she doesn’t have to know that. I learned a long time ago, the best way to goad Sofie into something is to make her think she can’t have it. “I’ll be out in three,” she says through gritted teeth. Her eyes flash and her movements are stiff and jerky. She keeps looking back at me as she inches her way to the door.

She folds the papers in fourths, then tucks them in the pocket of her too-tight jeans. I’d have to be dead to ignore the way they mold to her firm thighs and ass, but the lust that tests the fit of my own jeans only serves to piss me off even more. Ten years and my reaction to her hasn’t dulled—on either end of the spectrum. I follow her sleek bobbing ponytail through the house, noting the open window in the living room. “You couldn’t use your key?” I ask, tucking my hands in my pockets to stifle the need to run my hands over her hair and tug it back to force her to look at me. “I don’t have one,” she says, tugging the front door open. “I gave it to Mom

the day I left.” The casual reminder of that day is like a right hook and the effect is just as potent. My head nearly jerks back before I can check the movement and for a couple seconds, I’m disoriented. My jaw tics, then I bite out, “If you have anything else you need to get, call me first next time instead of breaking in. We’re both adults. The least you can do is act like one.” She flutters her lashes at me. “Where’s the fun in that?” “Will you be in town for the funeral?” I ask, more for her brothers’ sake than any curiosity of my own, not that I’d admit to it if I were. “Donnie and Rafe would love to see you.”

Her eyes dim and lower to study the worn rug at our feet before she glances back up, schooling her features. “I don’t think I will, I have to get back to work.” I blow out a heavy breath and laugh, though it’s hollow. “Really, Sof? How can you be so heartless? Your mom is dead. Your brothers are orphans. They need their sister right now. What the hell happened to you? What happened to the girl I used to know?” She takes a step closer, bringing us toe to toe. She’s a good foot shorter than me, but she looks me dead in the eye and says, “My brothers are better off without me and you are, too. I’ve got everything I need, so don’t worry about any other nighttime excursions. I’ll be back in

Hampton by tomorrow morning.” “The funeral is the day after tomorrow,” I tell her retreating back. “In case you’d like to pay your respects.” She pauses on the top step, turns, and surprises us both by saying, “It was good to see you, Jack.” Then she disappears into the night. I lean against the porch railing, gripping it with both hands, and hang my head. I knew her mother’s death would draw her back to Nassau. I’d spent the past week on tenterhooks waiting for her sleek little coupe to blow through town like she did when my sister’s son was kidnapped a year ago. But just because I was expecting it, doesn’t mean I was prepared for it.

The coupe revs in the distance and I see her twin red brake lights shining through breaks in the trees as she drives away. Seems like the only thing I’m good at when it comes to her is watching her leave.

Past

I SHOULD BE excited. A part of me is, I can’t deny that. But the other, more dominant part is worrying that he’ll see the deception on my face. That he’ll know I’ve been holding something back. I spent extra time getting ready to

combat my nerves. I’m wearing a dress —something that’s rare for me but that I know he loves. It’s white and flutters around me in a way that draws eyes to my tan legs made even shapelier by the platform wedges I’ve managed not to trip in. Yet. I even styled my hair into more manageable curls and took time to put on my makeup. I want everything to be perfect, even if the ball of nerves in my stomach mars the whole reunion for me. His parents wait in the little concession area with his sister, and my best friend, Livvie, feeding money into the vending machines as they wait for his plane to arrive. We’ve all been here for an hour, having arrived early to make

sure we didn’t miss him. Livvie teased me the entire way to the airport. While they eat bad candy and chug sodas, I stand by the security check, peering past the bobbing heads of the new arrivals. I chew one blush-painted fingernail and shift from foot to foot trying to get a better vantage point. The arrivals board flickers and finally shows that his plane has landed. The butterflies in my stomach morph into big, fat hopping frogs. We weren’t able to write any letters after his last because he was too busy and I got caught up preparing for a visit to Tulane, just in case. I can barely admit to myself that it’s because I don’t want to put the pen to paper and make my future a reality for

fear of what it will mean for us. An eternity later, Jack’s family joins me at the gate as people start filtering through, carry-ons dragging drunkenly behind them. I spot his now buzzed head over the top of the crowd and I can’t help the grin that breaks out. I get to my tippy toes and wave to get his attention. He looks up from weaving around a couple of ladies in front of him and his eyes automatically land on me. I see him pause there for a second and his body jolts in recognition, then a matching grin graces his face, his dimple peeking out. Hesitation gone, for the most part, I squeeze through the crowd of people, his family on my heels, and throw myself into his arms. He wraps his arms around

me, lifting me off of my feet as he spins me around in a circle. We come to a stop and he squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. He stands there, just holding me, and I don’t ever want to let him go. Those months he was gone were unbearable. When he does finally loosen his arms, it hits me that this is what it will be like when he leaves for his first duty station and I go off to college. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of miles will separate us. Our entire relationship will be comprised of letters like those I have stowed in my closet. Quick trips we can steal in between our schedules. Spending more days apart than with each

other. He lets me go to embrace his family and I step behind him, giving them room to welcome him back. I look around, lost in thought, and my gaze settles on the women walking around us, a couple of them a few years older than me, nearer to Jack’s age than mine. They smile and eye him appreciatively and suddenly I feel like a little girl caught in dress up, not quite old enough to play these adult games. Are those the kind of women that he’s around when he goes out with Ben and his friends? I watch them walk away, keenly aware of their confidence and worldly air. I’ve never been out of Florida. I’ve hardly even traveled away

from our small town of Nassau. How could I compete with women like that? What does he even see in a girl like me when he has options like that? I bite my lip as he swings an arm around my shoulders. “I’m starving. Where are we going to eat?” he asks his mom. “One track mind,” Livvie says. “We made you your favorites back at home,” his mom replies. “Consider this your day.” “Yeah,” Livvie says. “Because tomorrow I declare to be my day.” “Every day is your day.” Jack ruffles her hair and kisses her forehead. “I missed you, brat.” Livvie smiles back up at him.

“Missed you, too.” His parents file out in front of us with Livvie detailing to them exactly what she wants for her dinner. A cocoon of intimacy surrounds us, even in the middle of the crowd. The arm he’d thrown over my shoulders pulls me close enough so that he can press a kiss to my hair. My eyes close and a sweet ache takes up residence in my chest and pulses throughout my body. “I missed you, baby.” His voice is steady and deep. Intoxicating. God, he puts me under his spell just by speaking. “I missed you, too.” “Anything exciting happen these last couple weeks?” I bite my lip, the words threatening

to spill over. I swallow them, determined to let him have at least one good day back. “Nothing much, really.” “I’m sure Mom and Dad have something planned for tonight, and I have to help out at the gym tomorrow, but I want you to come with me. Hang out for a while.” “I’m all yours,” I say. His eyes darken and he pulls me closer. “Son, I’m going to get your bags from the line while your mom and sister pull the car around,” his dad calls from the hall in front of us. “Thanks, Pops,” he answers, his gaze still intent on my face. His heartbeat races under my palms and mine trips

over itself to catch up. He can’t seem to stop touching me, rubbing his hands over my arms and down the exposed line of my back. In the pause between his dad’s words and their departure, every naughty word he whispered to me during our video chats comes rushing back. His family breaks apart, going in their separate directions and leaving us alone. Jack tears his gaze away from me and glances around. He spots whatever it is he’s looking for and pulls me behind him, towards an empty corner. He has a knack for finding deserted spaces. My blood heats and pools low, replacing the uncertainty and doubt. This, we’ve never had a problem with. I can lose myself in this. He drops his

backpack and cages me against the wall, his easy-going expression suddenly replaced with what I can only describe as savage need. The change is so swift and shocking that I don’t resist when he presses me against the cool tile of the wall, even though I can hear people just a couple feet away. His body is hot, so very hot, and rock hard when it comes into contact with my own. Feelings that I can’t even begin to describe riot through me, but the one thing that I do recognize is simple. Need. I crave his touch to erase my worries about our rapidly changing future, to fill the empty parts inside of me. One hand slides up my back, the material of my dress riding dangerously

high as it catches on the roughness of his palms. The other cups my neck and jaw to bring my lips to his in a desperate kiss that conveys a hundred nights worth of separation and want. My own response shocks me. I make a frantic, surprised sound against his lips as my arms go up and around the broad shape of his shoulders to pull him even closer. His lips don’t even bother with gentleness. They plunder, forcing mine open. Our teeth knock together, and I think I forget to breathe at some point. He pulls back a little and I look at him, my brain suddenly fuzzy and drunk. His nose rubs against mine and he says, “That didn’t even take the edge off. God, you taste even sweeter than I remember.”

I grin at him, my earlier reservations forgotten. College, the future, and responsibilities can wait. I bring his lips back to mine and steal as many kisses as I can before his family gets back. Before reality can ruin this one perfect moment.

There are three things I love most in this world, and two of them I can probably live without. The other smiles up at me. “Shouldn’t we be getting back soon?

Your dad’s gonna notice we’re gone at some point.” I kiss her breathless, mostly to taste her again, and the rest to stop the conversation from going anywhere near my dad. Sofie groans and her fingers dive back in my hair, tugging a little, just the way she knows I like it. We probably should head back soon, before someone does search us out, but I can’t seem to muster up any fucks to give. Not with her body all hot and soft beneath my searching hands. Especially not when she sucks in a breath and her fingers tug me closer. Seeing my family was great, but I’ve spent the past six months dreaming of touching her. I’ve only been home for twenty-four hours,

but I’ve spent as many of those with my hands on her as I can. I smile against her parted lips. “Oh, you like that, huh?” My fingers pull down the cup of her bra. She whimpers. “You do, don’t you?” She kisses me instead of answering, and I let her. The very tip of my finger circles her tight nipple. A light touch, not near what I really want to do to her, but just enough to have her panting. In time, she forgets the pretense of kissing. We’re sharing heaving breaths and I thank fucking God for the secluded corner. “Want me to stop?” I tease her lower lip with my teeth, sucking it into my mouth and nibbling. At the same time, I

pinch her nipple between my finger and thumb. She gasps against my mouth and her hips strain toward me. I laugh. “That’s not an answer, baby.” In the distance, a door opens and lights spill out. Just enough to illuminate her shirt all rucked up over her chest, her bra yanked down, and her pretty nipples tight and pink and needy for me. Fuck me. Her eyes flash to the sound of grunts and thuds that echo down the hall. She makes a move to hide herself in the shadows. I still her hands by her side. “Uh-uh. Not gonna let you go ‘til you give me an answer.” Her gaze meets mine and she pauses a beat, then says, “Who says I want you

to let me go?” I grin, cause damn if she doesn’t just surprise the hell outta me sometimes. She reaches under her shirt and drags my free hand from her hip to her other breast. My smile dies. Fuck me. I must have said it out loud this time ‘cause she laughs, her head falling back against the concrete wall with a thud. My body follows her back like it doesn’t want to be left behind. And hell if I can disagree. My thumbs draw circles around her nipples and she makes the sexiest goddamn sound in the back of her throat. I could just eat her up. I almost lose focus, almost forget that I’m supposed to be the one teasing her and not the other

way around. I forget about the sparring I’m supposed to be running and the people probably waiting on us in the other room, wondering where we are. My world has narrowed to a pinpoint and at the center of it is this girl. I can’t even muster up enough give a shit to care that she has me wrapped around her finger, no matter how much crap I catch from the other guys. They’re the ones wrestling with other dudes on the mat when I have my hands full of her instead. Her hand comes back up and guides my right hand down to the waistband of her shorts, effectively sucking any and all air out of the immediate vicinity. I press my forehead into the cool concrete

above her shoulder in an attempt to regain rational thought. It doesn’t work. She urges my fingers underneath the elastic of her short pink exercise shorts I’ve been admiring all afternoon, and holy shit, she’s not wearing any panties. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” I whisper against her shoulder. “Jack, please.” Her voice is short. Thin. Desperate. The exact voice I heard in every single naughty fantasy I’ve had since we’ve been apart. The one that makes me lose all common sense. My chest heaves as my fingers slide over her smooth skin, finding her wet. I narrow in on a spot that makes her hips jerk. Her arms go around my shoulders

like twin vices. My middle finger glides between her lips and I have to put a bracing arm against the wall to keep us both upright. She spreads her legs, damn near hooking one over my hip. I let out the breath I’ve been holding and bite down on her shoulder. My fingers flick over her and she moans. Her scent surrounds me in the small, dark space. “Gotta be quiet,” I whisper against her skin. “I don’t know if I can.” “You better.” I could spend the rest of my life like this, tangled up in her. The thought of the months we’re going to spend apart, possibly even years, feels like a distant

worry. I tuck it in the back of my mind. Instead, I focus on her. Her scent. Her taste. And I know if we were anywhere else, she’d be naked. God, I want to see her naked. The one time I was able to get her in bed before I shipped out wasn’t enough. In fact, it was a tease. An awkward, sweaty, quick tease, considering it was her first time, and I was more worried about hurting her than anything else. I promised her the next time would be better, longer, but she’d just smiled up at me and said she didn’t care. Fuck that. I did. Which is why I’ve made her come as many times and in as many darkened corners as possible since I got off the plane. For the last few days,

my one and only goal has been to learn her each and every response. Now, I can tell she’s close like it’s second nature. The same way my body innately responds in the ring. Her breath speeds up and if it wasn’t so dark, I know I could see her olive skin turning red. She’s making these little sounds in the back of her throat, and I don’t know why the hell I started this shit out here in the open, where I can’t take my time. Where I can’t see her. Next time. Next time I’ll get her away somewhere. Away from our families. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere with a bed. We should definitely have a bed next time. Her arms constrict around my neck.

My fingers start to cramp in the sliver of space between us, but I don’t stop. “Don’t stop,” she echoes, confirming my suspicion that I can read her body like nothing else. I slow, an ache spreading through my hand, and she pulls at my shirt in protest. The door opens again and laughter spills out. We’re around the corner from the main gym, down the hallway that leads to the bathrooms in an alcove that houses the water fountains. There’s barely enough room for the both of us. The light’s been broken here for a week or two and my dad hadn’t repaired it yet. Lucky for me. When the door closes and footsteps follow, Sofie looks up at me, her eyes

wide. I should pull back, let her fix her clothes, but I don’t. I strum faster and her eyes go even wider. My fingers are slipping and sliding over her now, so much that I can’t keep any type of rhythm. The footsteps grow closer. We’ve got a couple minutes—maybe less—if they’re heading this way. Based on her frantic movements, she’s almost there. I use my chest to keep her pressed against the wall and hitch her leg all the way around my hip. With that hand, I dip inside the back of her shorts and find her. I add teasing fingers to her entrance, and that’s all it takes. She bucks against me, and I take her mouth to swallow the sounds of her orgasm. She whimpers as

it fades, panting, chest heaving. The person down the hall coughs, their shoes squeak. As their steps get closer, I reluctantly remove my hands from her pants and straighten her bra and shirt. The latter, I do so slowly, memorizing the look her of her like this. Vulnerable. Sexy as fuck. All mine. The door opens and closes again and more footsteps echo down the hall, startling us from the seclusion of the shadowed corner. “You okay?” I take a step back, adjusting my dick so it doesn’t tent the front of my pants. At least not more than it already is. Sofie kisses my jaw, her hands

pressed to my chest. I suck in deep breaths to try and clear my head, but the scent of her lingers, driving me wild, making my mouth water. She shifts by me, her body brushing against my overly sensitive skin as she picks up her discarded purse and I nearly growl out loud in frustration. The first person rounds the corner just as Sofie bends at the waist, surreptitiously getting a drink of water from the fountain. I try not to look at her twisted shorts, the seams visibly askew, or her shirt, still crumpled in my hurried attempt to make her look like she hadn’t just come apart in my arms. “Shit, Jack,” comes a voice. Damian ambles up with a grin, a towel slung

around his neck. “The fuck are you doin’?” “Hey, man.” I nod at him, stepping a little closer toward Sofie on instinct. He may be a friend, but I sure as shit don’t want him—or anyone—close to her after what we just shared. “You here for practice?” “Yeah, gotta get ready for that tournament coming up.” His eyes flit over to Sofie, but he doesn’t mention her flushed face or disheveled clothes, though we both know what we’re doing back here. “I didn’t know you were gonna get in that. Congrats, man. I’m sure you’re gonna do great.” He nods his gratitude. “Your old man

mentioned you were back in town. We should get together sometime before you ship out again.” I start to guide Sofie around him. “Sure, definitely.” “Was this the girl you’ve been telling me about?” He holds out a hand in Sofie’s direction. “This guy couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m Damian.” Sofie glances at me, then back at him before offering her hand. “Nice to meet you.” When Dad first signed Damian on a couple weeks ago, I had reservations. The tour in Iraq was a tough one for him and I wasn’t sure he’d be up to the training, the fights, the travel. He’s a wildcard, always has been, and an

absolute demon in the ring, but Dad had been adamant. “We need that kinda blood in the business,” he’d said. I agreed, not that I had shit to say about the business. “This place will be yours someday. Remember that. The decisions I make now will affect you in the years to come.” It was pointless to argue with him, besides, it turns out Damian did revitalize interest in MMA at the gym, which was good for our bottom line. Didn’t really matter to me either way. I didn’t plan on sticking around. I’d known I wanted to join the Marines for years, follow in his footsteps to join the

infantry, then the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program, also known as MCMAP. Eventually, I wanted to become an instructor. I just wasn’t sure if I would be able to continue those steps and retire to be a small business owner. How could I go from being a hero to working in this backwoods town? He may have been okay with it, but I sure as hell wasn’t. Of course, I didn’t tell him that at the time, so I just shrugged and brushed it off. “We’d better get back,” I grunt. “Maybe we can make plans sometime this week?” “Sounds good, man.” I turn and bump into Sofie, the

change in momentum causes her purse to fall off her shoulder and spill out of her grasping hands to the ground. Papers, pens, and a lone Chapstick scatter over the floor. I kneel down to help her gather up her things when my eye catches on a familiar logo, one I’d been dreading. Damian fades to the back of my mind once I catch a glimpse of Sofie’s face.

Present

ANOTHER SUMMER STORM beats at my windshield, but this time, I don’t begrudge the rain. It keeps me camouflaged as I watch the funeral proceedings from a distance. After getting caught by Jack, the last thing I

want to do is run into him again. Even though I can’t hear the reverend’s speeches or the consoling words from friends and family, I can feel them. Pressure builds in my chest until it feels like I’m being pressed into my car seat by a huge boulder. Tears burn my eyes and blur my vision, turning the world around me into one giant teardrop. Shame makes my ears and throat grow hot. Shame for waiting all this time. For not explaining to her the reasons why I had to leave and why I couldn’t face coming back. For not being a better daughter. She deserved so much better than what she got. At least my younger brothers were good kids. Rebellious, like most Varano’s, but

good, for the most part. I’m happy she had that while she could, and that they had her. Twin drops crest over my cheeks and drop onto the simple black jersey dress. I wipe the wetness away with a hasty finger and inhale deeply to soothe the tingle that signals more are to come. My phone vibrates next to me and I smile when I see Livvie’s name. I let it go to voicemail, though, because I know she’s only going to try and convince me to come out, but I can’t. Wouldn’t dare risk it. The ceremony over, guests begin to depart, but I can’t quite make myself leave just yet. It’s been a long time since I’ve caught a glimpse of my brothers and

I can’t leave until I’ve seen them at least once. Like a total fucking stalker. Once the crowd disperses, I spot Jack’s tall, powerful body immediately and God, does he look good in a suit. But even more appealing than that is the protective way he slings an arm around each of my brother’s shoulders. My fingers tighten on the material of the seat in a white-knuckled grip. Rafe is so tall now. He nearly reaches Jack’s chest, and Donnie is in the awkward teenage stage where everything seems a little too long. The last time I really spent any time with them Rafe was three and Donnie was one. Even when I did come to town, and those times were few and far between, I

kept our visits short and sweet. I’d essentially lost out on their whole lives. Last year when Jack’s sister Olivia —my best friend—called me in the middle of the night to tell me her son had been kidnapped was the last time I’d been to Nassau. I checked in on my brothers and Mom and left soon after Livvie and her son Cole settled with her now-husband and Jack’s best friend, Ben. In front of me, Jack ruffles Donnie’s hair and Donnie looks up at him with such blinding admiration that I reach for the passenger’s seat and snag a wrinkled tissue to dab at my running nose. It would be so much easier to stay away if Jack weren’t such a good guy. He really

is, down to his core. He can snarl at me as much as he wants, but he only does that because he cares so much. Only a man with a heart of gold would step up to play role model to his ex-girlfriend’s younger brothers. Especially if that exgirlfriend is me. I wipe my eyes and manage to pull my gaze from the trio and sit up in alarm when I realize they’re the last ones in the cemetery. The tissue goes flying somewhere in the backseat and I hastily belt myself in, cranking the engine and peeling out of my hiding spot behind a grove of cypress trees. The line of cars snakes over a quarter mile and I thump my hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. I glance in the rearview and even across the distance I can feel Jack’s eyes on mine. A shiver courses through me and I fidget in my seat whispering, c’mon, c’mon, at the cars creeping along in front of me. A shadow that has nothing to do with the rumbling storm clouds darkens my window, and I have to take a few deep, unsteady breaths before I look up. Jack’s face fills my line of sight, one arm braced above the car door, the other already reaching for the door handle. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he says. I look away, my hands still gripping the steering wheel, even though the precession of cars has come to a

complete halt. The words I want to say bubble up and lodge in my throat. I never should have come back. He sighs. “Fine. We can play it your way.” I see him straighten out of the corner of my eye. “Whatever you were looking for the other day? You didn’t get all of it.” He doesn’t even have the decency to gloat when I jerk back toward him. “I’m not going to get into your business, but if it’s important enough that you’ll break into your mom’s house to get it, I figure you must need it pretty bad.” My voice is thick with emotion and unshed tears. “Can I come get them now? Then I’ll be out of your hair.” “Yes,” he says, “with one condition.”

“What?” Apprehension knots my stomach. “Come by the house in about an hour. See your brothers. Talk to them. Then, if you still want to leave, I’ll give you the papers and you can go.” Even the thought of him touching them causes bile to rise to my throat. I choke it back down. “Okay, I’ll be there.” He studies me for a moment, his face unreadable, then he raps the top of my car with his knuckles. “If I’d known it was this easy to bribe you I would have tried it a long time ago.” “Are you done?” I bite out. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I’m done. I’ll see you in an hour. Don’t be late.”

An hour later, I return to my mother’s house and it looks completely different in the daylight. Under the cover of night, I couldn’t see the warping front steps or the peeling paint. As I unfold from the coupe and reluctantly walk to the front door, my eyes catch on a gaping hole on the far side of the porch. My chest tightens and my eyes burn. Pull it together, Varano. Around me people buzz with conversation and I can feel their eyes on me. Whispers follow me through the front door and into the living room. It’s

been cleaned since I was here last and I wonder briefly who did it. I can’t image a big, bad former Marine like Jack wielding a mop and duster. Then again, I couldn’t have pictured him as a business owner either. I guess a lot of things have changed. A lady I don’t recognize clears her throat behind me, and I move out of her way, like a stranger in the place I used to call home. Familiar faces mill about the living areas, bringing trays of food to the kitchen counter. More dishes cover the dining room table. Someone had the forethought to bring dozens of plastic lawn chairs and most people sit outside balancing paper plates of baked chicken and a variety of casseroles.

Hovering in the office doorway, I clutch my purse in front of me like a shield to hide my shaking knees. Coming here at night was different. The shadows hid memories I’d much rather forget. Being here in the daylight only draws my mother’s absence to the forefront. She would have loved having all these people over. She adored house parties and entertaining. Holidays were a big deal in our house. Any excuse to break out her wedding china and make an elaborate meal, really. Food was the way she expressed her love. And my mom had a lot of love to give. Fingers brush against my arm and I look down to find a masculine hand cupping my elbow. I follow the arm to a

bare throat, where a dress shirt has been unbuttoned, a tie hanging limply on either side of the lapel. Without my heels, he’d dwarf me, and even though I’m wearing my tallest ones, my eyes are only level with his bare throat. Jack tugs at my elbow and I go without complaint, feeling pleasantly numb. He leads me past the throngs of mourners and up the stairs to one of the spare rooms we used for relatives when they stayed over for the holidays. I follow him inside and he closes the door behind us. The sheets and comforter on the bed are mussed and there’s an open suitcase with men’s clothes in it. “You’re staying here?” I ask dumbly.

He tugs his suit jacket all the way off and tosses it on the foot of the bed. His tie follows soon after. “Yeah. What did you think I was doing the other day?” “Anything to piss me off,” I say, but it lacks heat. My libido is too distracted by him undressing in front of me. He ignores that and says, “I promised your mother I’d look after the boys and get this place cleaned up to sell.” And of course, I just happened to break in one of the nights he was staying here. “She always liked you,” I say softly. He leans against the dresser and crosses his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest. “I’m glad you came

today.” I turn away, walking to the window to look down at the people milling about in the yard. “Can we not do this?” He sighs. “Right. The boys are in Rafe’s room. They weren’t up to seeing all the people and I figured you guys would probably like the privacy.” “I don’t know what you want me to do here.” I want to give in to the need to curl up to his heat, his comfort, but I hug my arms around my waist instead. “You don’t have to do anything, just talk to them. It really is the least you can do.” “They’re not going to want to talk to me,” I hedge. His sigh wreaking of disappointment

fills the room. “Stop stalling.” Might as well get it over with, then, because Jack’s implacable responses are no help whatsoever. The short walk down the hall feels like it takes an eternity. I reach Rafe’s door and knock. “Come in,” one of them shouts from the other side. Not wanting to betray my reluctance, I boldly step through. Two identical looking boys swivel their necks in our direction and I freeze in their familiar gaze. Both of their faces look like little miniatures of our father. Even more so now that they’ve grown and matured. My heart beats double time in my chest. I swallow my fear and worry back

and offer Rafe and Donnie a small smile. “Hey, guys,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Long time no see.” Rafe sneers and continues playing his handheld video game, but Donnie returns the smile with one of his own, though he looks back and forth between me and Rafe. “You guys chat for a bit,” Jack says. “I’m gonna go check on the food. Behave.” He directs a hard look at the boys before slipping out the door and leaving me alone with them. The moment he leaves Rafe turns to his brother. “You dipshit, that’s my 3DS.” Rafe stalks across the room and snatches the handheld from Donnie’s stunned hands.

“Dude, that’s mine!” Donnie sputters. Rafe ignores Donnie’s protests and stuffs the 3DS in his backpack, then turns back defiantly. Donnie’s mouth opens and closes and his cheeks turn red. When his eyes gloss over with tears, I look away, feeling a shame burn on my own face. Like a peeping tom who has no business interfering. My eyes fall to the floor and I spot another 3DS tucked halfway under an unmade bed. My eyes shift to the two boys having a stare-down and then back at the 3DS. I get to my knees and fish it out from under the bed and wave it around. “Is this one of yours?” I ask them. Petulant faces turn to me, both affecting a look of

shock at my presence, as if they’d already forgotten I was there. I smother the responding hurt underneath a shaky smile. Donnie wipes his nose and glances away, but Rafe snatches the 3DS from my hands and gives it to Donnie, both having suddenly forgotten their tiff to focus their irritation on me. Great. “Who asked you?” Rafe says, then brushes by me. If he had shoulder checked me I wouldn’t be surprised, but he doesn’t, he just strolls down the hallway and out of sight. I curse my mother, Jack, and every other trick of fate that landed me back in this godforsaken town. When I turn back to Donnie, he flicks his eyes up at me

and then follows his brother without a word. Some family reunion.

She lasts longer than I expected she would. The boys rush by the kitchen door and out the back, their shouts loud and angry. Sofie follows close behind, her face a crumbling mask that does little to hide her volatile emotions. “What was the point of putting us through that?” she whispers vehemently,

her brown eyes flashing. “They barely even know me and what little they do know, they can’t stand.” “They’re teenagers. They can’t stand much of anything.” Sofie lifts her hair off of her shoulders and shakes it out. “Now that we’ve concluded this entirely pointless excursion, will you please let me have my stuff so I can get out of here?” “I have some things to say first and then I will.” I hold up a hand to stave off her tirade. “Just shut up and listen.” Her eyes widen and I continue, “Those boys may not be able to stand you, but what you seem to forget is you’re the only family they have. What do you think is going to happen to them when you leave

here, huh?” She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off with a hard look. “Hate me, hate this place, your life, I don’t give a fuck, but they should not pay for your bullheadedness.” “May I talk now?” she cuts in. I gesture with a hand. “They will be fine,” she says. “They can go live with Aunt Marci. Mom always said if anything ever happened to us, Marci would take care of us.” “Baby, your Aunt Marci has advancing Alzheimer’s. She can’t even take care of herself right now.” Sofie stumbles backward, catches herself with a hand on the edge of the breakfast table. “So what…what are you

saying here exactly?” I let her work through to the obvious answer. She starts shaking her head. “You can’t mean that I’m supposed to take care of them.” A hollow laugh explodes from her chest. “You can’t be serious.” “Look, Sof, the truth is, there is no one else. They’re not going to give two kids to someone who isn’t family. I’m a single guy who lives above a gym. I do okay, but no court will give me custody. Your parents don’t have any other ablebodied, living relatives. If you don’t take them, they’ll go into foster care.” I let that sink in for a second. “Do I need to have Livvie explain to you why that’s not a good idea?”

“Jack, I don’t know a single thing about taking care of teenagers. I live in a loft in the city. I don’t keep regular hours. I’m a hacker, I never go out. I have my laundry done for me. You remember how bad my cooking was! If they give those boys to me, they’d have food poisoning within a week!” “It’s not about you. It’s not about me,” I say gently, recognizing the panic in her eyes. Even though I curse myself for it, I cross the kitchen and do something I haven’t done in a long time. I pull her into my arms and rest my chin on her head. “Think about it, okay?” “They’d probably be better off with a nice foster family,” she mutters into my shirt.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” “You might.” With effort, I step back and put a good three feet of space in between us. “Whatever made you leave Nassau before doesn’t matter. There are two kids who have no place to go. If you decide not to take them, then you’re going to be the one who tells them, because I’m sure as hell not going to be associated with such a shitty memory.” Her shoulders slump and she glances out the kitchen window where the boys are chasing each other. “When do I have to decide?” she asks. “Their social worker is coming to finalize everything next week, so you

have this weekend to make up your mind before they place them in foster care.” “How do you know all of this?” “Your mother placed me as executor of her estate.” “Jesus.” Sofie peers around the room. “What about the house? What’s going to happen to it?” I wait until she turns back to face me. God, she looks just like she did when we were younger. Her game face is gone and even though she’s costumed up in a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, I can see her vulnerability shining through the façade. “She left the house to you,” I say. Her hands ball up and press to her stomach and she doubles over like she’s

in pain. I take a few tentative steps in her direction, but she holds up a hand, sniffling. “I’m all right,” she says, but her voice is shaky at best. I go to the fridge and get a jug of tea someone made up and left. I can’t find any cups so I grab a mason jar from the dish drainer and fill it to the brim with ice and tea, then hand it to her. She accepts the cup with two hands and brings it to her lips for a long gulp. “She told me to tell you that if you wanted to sell it, that she wouldn’t mind.” Sofie takes that like a blow, staggering back against the kitchen table. “But she said if you wanted to keep it for you and your brothers, there will be enough money from her life insurance to

fix it up again.” Sofie holds up a hand. “Stop.” Her voice is faint and it cracks midway through the word. She staggers out of the kitchen and down the back hall to the back door. I follow silently behind as she throws open the door and damn near falls out of the house onto the porch. She manages to make it to the steps where she buckles on the top step and leans against the railing. Not wanting to push her, knowing the pressure will only make her draw away even more, I keep silent. We sit there for a while in a companionable silence, the sounds of the people in the front yard filtering back on the warm afternoon air.

The rain stopped as soon as the funeral ended, which I thought fitting. Sofie’s mom was all about the sunshine and I know she would have wanted it to shine here for her kids and loved ones. After a while, Sofie gets to her feet. “I’d like my things, please.” I nod and retrieve them from her room on the lower floor. I didn’t look. I didn’t want to know her secrets unless she was ready to tell me, wanting to be worthy of them in some twisted way. “I’m going home now. To think. I’ll call you when I know where we go from here,” she says. The color is finally back in her cheeks along with the steel in her spine. “Fair enough,” I say. “We’ll be

here.” She nods and without saying anything else, turns and goes back into the house. I watch her go until she disappears around the corner. I could fight, could force her to stay and face her responsibilities, but I won’t. I’ve been waiting ten years for her to come back and I know what it is to be patient. I can be patient a few days longer.

Past

My heart tumbles into a hundred pieces at my feet. I reach out and snatch the letter from Jack’s slack hands. “It’s nothing.” Jack takes my arm and pulls me down the hall away from Damian and

around a corner. “When were you going to tell me?” he demands, shoving the paper in my hands. I pull away, rubbing my arm. “I didn’t know how to. You just got here.” His face tightens and he turns away, shoving a hand through his hair. “I just applied as a joke. I never thought I’d actually get in.” “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks, his voice low. “No, of course not. I—” “I mean did you think I didn’t know about Tulane? There’s all kinds of shit in your room: flyers, applications, catalogs. Last year, when we were talking about what we wanted in the future, it was all you could talk about.”

“You don’t even know if I got in.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re kidding right? Of course you got in. I bet you even got some kind of scholarship, didn’t you?” His voice is teasing, light, but I’m too afraid to trust the shift in his mood. Choosing between going to the school of my dreams and being with the man who owns my heart has been making me crazy. “Yeah,” I say, looking at my feet. A finger lifts my chin. “I’m not mad.” “You’re not?” “How could I be mad about something like this? It’s a good thing.” “I don’t know how you can see being away from each other for four years as a good thing.”

“We both knew when I joined up we’d be apart for a while. Neither of us are ready to pull the marriage card and school is important.” “I could still go to a school near you.” He shakes his head. “Not a chance. We both know how much you love Tulane and as much as I know you love me, I won’t let you give up an opportunity like this. Not when you’ve been so supportive of me.” He tugs me closer. “Have you toured the campus?” “Mom and I are supposed to sometime, but…” “But, what?” “The only opening they have is this weekend.”

“Well, that sucks, but I don’t want you putting off your future for me.” I open my mouth to protest, but his arms hold tight around me. “Let me finish,” he says firmly. His fingers flirt with mine and I keep silent. “I can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it. When I thought about what my life would be like after training, it was always a life that included you at the finish line. That doesn’t mean we need to get married right away, though I should let you know now, straight up, that that’s in the cards for me when it comes to you. But, I also want you to go to college, have that experience. I would never want to take that away from you.” My eyes flick down to my hands. I

want to believe him, I do. Four years apart is a long time, though, and one of us has to be realistic. The words tumble from my lips out of pure selfpreservation. “But what about us?” His hand comes up to frame my face, holding me in place, his touch stilling my racing thoughts. I feel my body curving toward him, a question seeking its answer. “We’ll make it work. What I feel for you…I know it’ll be worth waiting for.” Jack: Are you back yet? Sofie: About an hour away. What are you doing? Jack: Staring at a bunch of half-naked dudes. Send help.

Sofie: Am now jumping out of the car and running like the Flash. Jack: Help is on the way Sofie: :O) How’d the tournament go? Jack: It was all right. Dad wasn’t kidding about being worn out. Worried about him. Sofie: He’ll be ok. How’d your guys do? Jack: Dunno, but that Alvarez guy is getting on my last nerve. Sofie: You’re just pissed about the other day. Jack: Maybe. He just rubs me the wrong way.

Sofie: I’ll be back soon to rescue you. Jack: FYI, I prefer my knight-inshining armor to be naked. Sofie: Ok, damsel. It’s a date. ;)

My smile fades as I put my phone back into the cup holder. I was so prepared to hate Tulane, but it was love at first sight. New Orleans had been teeming with life and culture, worlds different from Nassau. And a world away from Jack. Was it possible to cheat on your boyfriend with a college education? Probably not, but it sure felt like it. A combination of shame and deep-seated pleasure. Or at least, what I imagine cheating would feel like.

“What’s the matter with you?” Mom asks, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. “Fancy school. Scholarship.” She smiles. “You should be happy.” Schooling my features, I say, “I am, it’s great.” “Even though I wish you could stay closer, go to the community college, I know this is something you’ve been looking forward to.” “I know, Mom. But you and the boys can come visit.” She doesn’t understand the need to get out of Nassau. After my dad died, she began an active campaign to keep me by her side. If left up to her, I’d stay in town, marry some guy and spit out a couple of kids who’d do the same. This

weekend was like a glimpse into someone else’s life—a future I’d only dreamed of, but wanted for so long. As our car eats up the remaining miles, I blow out a breath and lean heavily against the window, watching the scenery fly by. He’s the only thing I’d regret leaving. Attending Tulane would guarantee we’d be apart for the next four years, and that’s if I don’t decide to go to graduate school. That’s not even including the added stress of a longdistance relationship. He could deploy. He could be stationed overseas. Olivia had joked about Jack proposing, but it’s something his noble heart would do. He’d want to provide for me, be there for me. He may try to

exude the hardass persona, but underneath all that swagger is a gooey center. He’s made no secret of the fact that he wants the whole shebang: kids, picket fence, house in the suburbs. The mere thought of marriage makes me shudder and wrap my arms around my waist. The last thing I want is to end up like my mom, alone and unable to move on because the one person who completes her is gone. We pass the sign announcing we’re entering Nassau city limits and I wipe my palms on my jeans. I drop Mom off at home and head straight to the gym. I find him with another fighter training in the ring. For a while, I just watch him. Really, it’s no chore. Sometimes, when it’s been a

couple weeks since I’ve seen him, I start to forget what he looks like. The picture of him I hold in my head fades, growing more and more blurry with each passing day. Video chatting isn’t the same. Most of the time it’s just a quick call to say hello when we both manage to sync a few spare minutes in our schedules. He’s talking to a guy in the ring, leaning across the ropes. He gestures wildly with his arms, his thick brows pulled down and his full, sensual mouth a firm line. If there was ever a man who could convince me to throw away my dreams, it’s him. “Hey, Jack’s girl. How’s it going?” comes a gruff voice from beside me. I turn and find Damian Alverez

standing beside me as he mops his face with a rag. Looking back at Jack, I say, “Great, just waiting for Jack. You?” “Same old, same old.” “How was the tournament?” He moves closer, enough that I can smell the soap from his shower. I immediately want to take a couple steps back to keep the space between us, but I shake the instinct off. I’m being silly. This is Jack’s friend. “I got rolled the first round, but we got a couple more to go.” He smiles and the cut on his cheek winks. “Just warming up.” “I’m sure you’ll do better next round. Jack says you’re killer in the ring.” A shrill voice cracks through the

lobby. “Damian!” Tension thickens the air and I take a step back, looking between the woman and Damian. His lips pull into a scowl and he pushes off the wall, grabbing the woman by the arm and pulling her around a corner. Trouble in paradise, I muse. Pushing Damian from my mind, I turn my attention back to Jack. I don’t know how long I wait on the far side of the cavernous room just watching him, but eventually he grows alert. His shoulders stiffen and he swivels his head around, peering around the gym equipment and sweating bodies. When he finds me, he smiles and it wipes away any lingering discomfort from my trip to New Orleans.

Jack jumps down from the ring and winds his way through the competitors and spectators. “You’re back,” he says, scooping me up into his strong arms. I hold on to his shoulders and tuck my face into his neck. “How was Tulane? Did you love New Orleans?” “Amazing,” I lie against his warm skin. “Just like the fifteen times you asked on the way home.” Laughter rumbles in his chest. “I wish I could have gone with you.” I squeeze him tighter, wishing he could just go with me permanently. “I told you I understood.” He pulls back, grinning so wide he shows his perfectly straight teeth. “That’s not why I wanted to go.”

Heat curls low in my belly. “It’s not?” He pulls me closer with an arm around my waist. “I think I promised you a bed,” he murmurs. My breath shortens. “So you did.” His nose traces a path of lightning down the skin of my neck. “I’ve only got about an hour left here. Why don’t you get changed and I’ll take you out somewhere?” He finishes his tour at my face, rubbing my nose with his, and then kisses me on the forehead. My eyes slip closed and I nod. “That sounds perfect.” “I’d say let’s blow this place off because it’s just that one match, but Alvarez kind of bombed tonight and

Dad’s on a rampage.” He pulls back a little, dispelling the illusion of our own little cocoon. I shake my head to clear my brain of fluff. “Yeah, I’ve gotta shower anyway. Meet you here in about an hour?” He gives me a long, drugging kiss. “Can’t wait.” When I regain rational thought, I give him a goofy smile and walk away feeling lighter than air. I can feel Jack’s eyes follow me out the doors and into the parking lot. I cross the empty spaces to my parked car and hiss out a breath at the sight of a flat tire. “Great,” I say, my mood dampening. Maybe the drive to New Orleans and back was a little too much on the poor

old car. “Need a little help?” I peer into the darkness and find Damian strolling up. My hackles rise for a second, then I relax and manage a small smile, in spite of my hesitance, because yes, I do. “Looks like it,” I say. “You know how to change these things?” “Sure. Piece of cake. Why don’t you hop in and pop the trunk so I can grab a spare for you?” “Thanks, I appreciate it.” The car is about fifteen years old, so it doesn’t have fancy button on the keychain to unlock it. As I fold myself into the front seat and reach for the release lever for the truck, I hear the resulting pop,

followed by a peculiar slam. I peer toward the back to see if it opened. I manage to get a glimpse of Damian rushing at me with what seems like preternatural speed when his hand slaps over my face and nose, stifling my scream. Panic and vomit explode into the back of my throat. “Don’t make a sound,” he says, jabbing something into my ribs.

Pain explodes in my midsection as the

blow connects with my ribs. “Jesus, you tryin’ to kill me?” Logan grins. “Sorry, Jack.” “This is a warm-up not the championship match,” I tell him, rubbing my ribs. If he wasn’t one of my best friends, I’d enjoy breaking the rules and punching him right the fuck in the face. When my side twinges, I give the thought some serious consideration. “Couldn’t resist. Your dad has talked so much shit about you, I had to see what’s up.” My dad grins across the ring where he’s advising one of the competitors. I throw up a middle finger in his general direction, but my ribs twinge. Fucker has a hell of a right hook.

“Go find another punching bag,” I tell him and hobble off to find some ice. I press the bag against my ribs and glance at the clock above the ring. A half hour until we shut this circus down and I can go out with my girl. It’s been too fucking long. And the thought of being away from her while she goes to school for the next four years kills me almost as much as the pain in my side. At least this will go away in a couple hours. When I wake up tomorrow, she’ll still be going to school hundreds of miles away. “You look like shit,” Dad says. “Thanks to you, asshole.” He chuckles. “You looked so sad, I thought you could use a little pick-me-

up.” “Well fuck you very much. Don’t do me any more favors.” “Sure about that?” I look up at him and gesture with my free hand. “Damn right.” “Then I guess you don’t want me to cut you loose.” “You are such an asshole,” I say. He knocks a fist against my shoulder and I wince. “Get out of here. I’ll handle the rest.” “I’m not even going to ask if you’re sure.” “Give that girl a hug for me,” he says over his shoulder. “I’m not giving her shit.” His laughter follows me out of the

gym and into the locker room hallway. I grab my bag from my locker, shower, and dress all in the span of a half hour. The spectators are dwindling and the stands are nearly empty when I stroll through the lobby. I get caught in a bottleneck of people trying to get out of the door so I pull out my phone. Jack: Done. You on your way?

The congestion clears and I plunge into the parking lot with relief. I suck in a few deep breaths of the cool night air as I cross to my truck in the employee section on the side of the building. I toss my bag into the back of the truck and scan the parking lot while I wait for her response. Thoughts of having her alone, finally,

drift through my mind as I watch everyone spill out of the gym and get into their cars. It’s not until the parking lot is nearly empty that I notice her car. Frowning, I push off from my truck and check my phone as I walk over to see if she texted me back. When a cursory glance shows no response, the hairs on the back of my neck raise and the laser-fine intuition the Corps has honed over the past year is telling me something is wrong. I go around the side of her car, noticing her rear tire is flat. Relief floods my chest and I release the breath I was holding. I pull out my phone again. Jack: Saw your flat. Hope you made it home okay. Did you call your mom to

come and get you?

Her front door is unlocked, which makes me frown, but I pop the trunk and get the spare and jack. I’m just finishing up the last lug nut when my phone beeps. Sofie: Yeah got a ride home. Not feeling good. See u tmrw.

I cock my head at the phone and frown. Tapping a message out will take too long, so I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. Three subsequent tries yield the same results.

Present

MY TIME IS up. On a number of levels. I have less than an hour to give a response to Jack about my brothers’ fate, the lease on my townhouse is due for renewal at the end of the week, and I’ve used up every last one of my vacation

days from work trying to figure out what the hell to do. I know the right thing to do, what Jack would do in this situation. But I’m not Jack and my heart is certainly not made of gold. Going back to Nassau would mean more than just taking care of a couple of teenage boys—though that in itself is a problem I don’t have the answer to. Going back would rip open wounds I’ve been running from since the day I left. Wounds I rubbed raw when I spent time with Jack a year ago, leaving me bloody and exposed. I close my eyes and lean my head against the couch as I sip a glass of wine. Jack and I have always managed

to put up a pretty good—if completely see-through—front when it comes to interacting in front of his sister. When a group of people is as close as we are it’s either get along or go our separate ways. Since Livvie is my one and only true friend, I couldn’t conceive of losing her, too, even though I only see her every so often. My phone buzzes against my thigh and I know without opening my eyes that the person on the other line is Jack. I bring the phone to my ear with my free hand. “Hello?” “Need an answer, Sof,” Jack says, his voice coming through the line clear and throaty. I fortify myself with a generous

swallow of wine. “I know you do.” The line crackles with his sigh. “This isn’t a game. This is their life.” I chuckle darkly. “Trust me, I know it’s not a game.” “Then stop acting like a kid and quit playing around.” Tears burn and I finish off my glass, hating and loving the pleasant warmth and resulting numbness. “Yes,” I answer finally. “You’ll do it?” he asks. “Yes, I’ll do it.” He sighs again, but this time I can hear the relief, even over the connection. “Good. That’s good.” “You’ll have to give me a couple days to get everything tied up over here.

Give notice at work and to my landlord, but I should be able to come back this weekend.” Having made the decision, the rest comes more easily. In for a penny. “Yeah, that’s fine. The boys are out of school for the next few weeks so they aren’t going to miss anything and I’ve spoken to their teachers so they understand they’ll be going through some transitions at home.” My chest burns and I choke out, “God, you would have made such a good dad.” He pauses and clears his throat as he changes the subject, which is probably for the best. “You’re going to do fine,” he says.

I get up and cross the room to refill my glass of wine. Next to the half-empty bottle are the charred remains of the papers I’d retrieved from Mom’s house. “I guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we?” “You’ll do fine,” he repeats. I change the subject. His comfort is a little too sweet. A little too much to handle. “What about the house? It looked like some of it was starting to fall apart.” “Parts of it are in pretty bad shape, but I can help you with that.” Before I can speak around the lump in my throat, he says, “Most of your mom’s life insurance will go to paying off her doctor’s bills, the funeral expenses, but

the amount leftover should be enough for repairs.” “I appreciate the offer, but you’ve already done more than enough.” Besides, him hulking around the house with his shirt off is entirely out of the question. “Look,” he says plainly, “I’m glad you’re stepping up, but I’m not going to go away just because you’re coming back. They deserve some stability. I’m going to stick around, at least for a little while, to make sure you don’t run out on them the first chance you get.” Well, that hurt. I gulp more wine. “Fine, knock yourself out.” “I can manage them this week, but then they’re all yours. I’ll come out to

the house to finish cleaning up and assess what needs to be done from there.” “Fine,” I say, peering into my cabinets for more wine. If I’m going to need to be an adult, I might as well finish off the booze I have now before I become responsibility’s bitch. “I’ll get in touch with the social worker and I’ll let you know if I need anything else.” “Wonderful.” I pop open another bottle, eyeing it appreciatively. The sound of a door opening and a feminine voice filter over the line. “I’ve gotta go, but call me when you’re on your way back, okay?” “Sure,” I choke out.

The line clicks and I stare at the wine, then I go back to the cabinet and grab the remaining two bottles. It’s going to be a long night.

A reasonable person would assume that getting three people dressed and out the door on time for dinner would be an easy task. One would also be dead-ass wrong. As I stand on the front porch steps shouting, for the third time, that I’m leaving in five seconds, I come to the conclusion that reasonable people also don’t have children.

Clearly you have to be crazy to reproduce. I’m surprised the rest of the world hasn’t caught on. I’ve only had these guys a couple of days and I’m ready to call mercy. From school and basketball practice to sibling rivalry and past resentments. I’ve had a crashcourse in being a parent and I’m not sure if I’m cut out for it. “All right,” I scream through the front door. “That’s it. If you’re not in the car, you’re getting left behind and I don’t want to hear any bitching when I don’t bring any leftovers—including dessert— back here to you ungrateful brats.” What I can only assume is a stampede of obese elephants comes from the stairs and my brothers appear out of

breath and red-faced in the doorway. “Did you say dessert?” Donnie asks, his face upturned and open for the first time since I picked them up this morning. My rage softens marginally. “Well, Ben may have eaten it all now, but if you hurry, sometimes Livvie sneaks some before he can get it.” Donnie beelines for my car and I sigh. Apparently, bribery is the only way to get a kid to do what you want. I make a mental note to write a book about it. I could make millions selling them to sleep-deprived parents. Rafe isn’t as easily sold, but not wanting to be left alone, he reluctantly follows Donnie. I have a feeling he’s going to be a lot harder to win over than

his brother. He reminds me of…well, me. Which doesn’t bode well considering my track record and awards in stubbornness. They settle in the backseat with the barest amount of grumbling. I count that as a win on my part. I’ve had a scant few of those since Jack and I broke the news about me becoming their guardian a couple days ago. It’s been an uphill battle ever since…one I’m clearly losing. “How long until we get there?” Rafe asks. I look in the rearview and see him staring moodily out the window. His lips are pulled down and his arms are crossed over his chest. A pang shoots through me.

My voice softens. “We’re almost there.” Livvie’s place comes into view and my hands unclench a little on the steering wheel. Livvie was a natural mother. When she had her son Cole, she took to it like second nature. She would know what to do with my brothers. If nothing else, her calming presence would help alleviate my anxiety for the time being. I park next to Livvie’s car and I feel a smile spreading across my face. My mother’s house held too many memories, ones I’d rather leave dead and buried. Livvie’s place, however, feels like home. “This is it?” Rafe asks incredulously. I roll my eyes and head up to the

front door. If they want to come, fine. If not, they can wait out in the cold. Livvie answers my knock with a bright smile. She wraps me in a hug and squeals. “I know it’s a bad situation,” she says, “but I can’t hide that I’m happy you’re here.” “Thanks for making dinner,” I tell her. I’m probably squeezing her too hard, but I have to admit, it’s good to see her, too. Good to see anyone who can look at me without a tinge of disappointment. “Of course. I can’t wait to see your brothers. I haven’t seen them in ages. How are they doing with everything?” “They’re outside,” I roll my eyes. Livvie nods slowly. “I see. That

good, huh?” “They’re probably just waiting to see if you still have dessert.” “I have plenty of dessert,” she says, raising her voice. “I made double fudge brownies.” “Subtle.” She winks at me and smiles when the herd of elephants bounds up the porch steps. The boys pause, seemingly remembering their manners. “Livvie, these are my brothers Donnie and Rafe. Guys, this is my best friend, Livvie.” They start to speak, but a godawful sound grows louder and closer. We all turn to find Ben chasing a cackling Cole

down the front hall. He’s naked except for a pair of training underwear. Cole, that is, not Ben. “Excuse us,” Livvie says. “We’re protesting pants this week.” I smirk. “Don’t worry, I protest proper pants every week.” “That’s called laziness, babe.” I stick out my tongue at her. I don’t know how she manages it, but I feel immediately at ease as Livvie ushers us inside while Ben reigns in his son. The cabin used to belong to her father. After his death, Ben bought the house for her. I avert my eyes as he kisses her softly on the lips, Cole still racing around them like a maniac. If anyone deserved warmth and love, it’s

Livvie. “Why don’t you guys come with us and let the ladies do their thing?” Ben throws a squealing Cole over his shoulder. “If you’re lucky, maybe we can sneak out and I’ll let you take a ride on my Harley.” “Don’t you dare,” Livvie shouts at Ben’s retreating back. “Ben!” She turns back to me smiling. “Well, that would be one way to take care of your problem.” For the first time since moving back to Nassau, I laugh. “Thank you for having us. How did you know I didn’t want to spend tonight alone?” She tugs my arm toward the kitchen. “It’s a gift. Now c’mon, we can lick the batter mix while the boys play with their

toys and you can fill me in on what’s going on.” A couple minutes—and more than a couple spoonful’s of chocolate—later, Livvie hands me a beer and orders, “Spill.” I take a huge sip, okay gulp, from the bottle and enjoy its coolness as I consider my response. “I don’t really know what else there is to say. It all happened so fast. A few weeks ago, I was living my life and it wasn’t anything special, but it was mine. And now I have these two humans depending on me. I know it sounds all woe is me, but, shit, what if I screw them up? I’m no paragon of virtue here. Who would actually want me to take care of their kids?”

Livvie offers me another spoon caked in fudge. “You are way too hard on yourself. You’re going to be fine.” “They’ve survived so far and that’s with my cooking so I guess I can consider it a good sign.” “Still,” Livvie says, “you did the right thing, taking them. They need you.” I chug half of my beer to chase down the chocolate and lift one shoulder. “How are they taking it?” “I don’t know if I’m qualified in teenager-speak to answer you, but I think they’re doing as well as can be expected, considering. Donnie more so than Rafe. Rafe hates my guts, that’s clear, but Donnie is willing to forgive and forget.”

Livvie sets her beer down carefully and chews on her lip before squaring her shoulders. “I’m going to say one thing, and then we won’t talk about it again. You did the right thing. I know kids weren’t in your plans, and you’ve never explained to me why you had to leave, but I assume coming back to Nassau wasn’t in your plan either.” She looks out the window for a few seconds, then back at me. “I would have given anything to have someone like you so that I didn’t have to go into foster care. I was lucky, the James’ adopted me, even though I was a teenager. I was lucky they were a great family. Your brothers may not have been so lucky.” “I don’t know anything about having

a family, Liv.” “You can learn,” she says, eyes shining. “You can learn together. I promise you, taking on those boys is going to be the best decision you’ve ever made.” That statement is punctuated by screams from outside. I throw Livvie a sardonic look. “You were saying?” She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to go check on them. Wait here and I’ll refill our appetizers.” “I don’t think brownie mix and beer can be considered an appetizer.” “Well we’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re no cook so what would you know?” I switch from beer to water and chug

a cool glass of it while Livvie checks on the boys. From my vantage point at the window, I see Ben helping the boys take turns sitting on the motorcycle. I find myself smiling when Donnie nearly falls off the thing. Both of them are laughing and smiling openly for the first time since I’ve been home. After dinner, the boys are fully absorbed in the newest first-person shooter with Ben. I would even go so far as to say they’ve had a good time. Both got second helpings of dessert and neither have shown much attitude. In the interest of being transparent with myself, I know that’s mostly Livvie’s doing. Her easy-going nature makes everyone feel at home. Plus, her brownies are to die for.

The real worry is what happens when we get back to my mother’s and no longer have a buffer. I notice Cole passed out between his parents. Smiling in spite of my reluctance, I say, “Looks like we’d better get going. Little guy can’t hack it.” Livvie covers a yawn and laughs. “Apparently I can’t either.” The boys groan and inwardly, I agree. I’d much rather stay at Livvie’s than go back to my mother’s house and face reality. “Thanks again for having us over,” I tell them, instead of begging them to let me stay. “Anytime,” Ben says with a smile. Donnie and Rafe lumber to the front

door with Livvie and I following close behind. I can hear the comforting sound of Ben humming to Cole as he makes his way toward the back of the house, presumably to lay Cole down for the night. “And you’ll think about what I said?” “I probably won’t stop thinking about it for the foreseeable future.” “That’s my girl.” “Your friends are nice,” Donnie says as we walk back to my car. “Yeah, they’re pretty great.” I catch his eye over his brother’s head and smile. “I can see why you visit them instead of us,” Rafe spits out.

I sigh. So much for the laughing and smiling, I guess. There’s no use in making excuses. The only thing I can do is use this time to make it up to them. The ride home is silent and charged with Rafe’s accusation and my own shame. It’s not entirely unfounded, but whatever. He’s just a kid. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. By the time we reach Mom’s house, I’ve resolved to ignore Livvie’s advice. Clearly, I’m not cut out for this caretaker gig. Donnie’s easy smile is gone and the sugar high has reached the crash stage on Rafe’s part. As they skulk back to the house, a fluttering sound draws my attention to the porch, and then to the

front door where a piece of white paper is stuck between the screen door and the frame. It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. My fingers adhere to the door handle and my insides turn to ice. The boys wait on the porch, turned to me, identical eyebrows raised. They look so small, dwarfed by the extravagant lines of the porch. I have the most ridiculous urge to get them, shove them, just, take them away. Anything to keep them from being tainted by this place and my own mistakes. Swallowing down the bitter mix of fear and bile, I step out of the car on shaky knees. I clear my throat, my eyes burning, and slowly walk toward the

steps. “You okay?” Donnie asks, peering at me with furrowed brows. I ruffle his hair, his sweet face distracting me from my panic. “I’m fine. Thanks. Let’s get you guys inside.” The paper is innocuous, really. To anyone else, it would seem to be an advertisement. Maybe one of those church group info cards, but I know better. Boy, do I know better. I get them inside and to their rooms without much protest. No doubt the past few days have worn them out. While the house grows quiet around me, I retreat to the office, where I’ve made a camp of sorts. Nothing could have made me take

my old room, and I couldn’t very well take my mom’s. The mere thought gives me goosebumps. I turn the lamp on and boot up my computer, thinking maybe I’ll get some work done to take my mind off things. In reality all I do is stare at the screen, contemplating the piece of paper waiting on the corner of the desk. When I do, I know it will open every single thing I’ve been running from. The solid life I’ve built for myself, the careful distance I’ve cultivated between me and everyone else, it’ll all evaporate. Then again, I’m rarely able to resist temptation. But isn’t this what I was hoping for

when I came back? Didn’t I want to face the demons that drove me away. I rip open the piece of clear tape.

Nassau is a small town. Small enough that minor events make waves. Sofie Varano’s return has the potential to wipe out small civilizations. “Have you made a move yet?” Ben asks. He hisses out a breath as he tries to max out his bench weight at 315 lbs. I frown at the line of questioning,

already tempted to let the bar slip just a little to crush his windpipe so we don’t have to have this conversation. Not a lot, just enough so that he can’t talk about it anymore. Ever. I swear he’s more of a gossip than my sister. “She’s got her hands full with the boys,” I say instead, steadily guiding the bar with three Cadillac forty-fives on either side up in a smooth motion. “It’s not like this is a social call.” “I bet you’d like for it to be a social call.” Ben eases the bar back down. The bastard. I pray for muscle failure. “Livvie says she thinks it’s good for her, being back with the boys and all.”

I grunt in response. Just hearing about her, talking about her, like this feels a little too normal, a little too much like old times. Times I’ve tried to put behind me. Hard to do when every neighbor, cashier, and former friend insists on bringing it up. “She thinks you two are destined to get back together now that she’s back for good.” He lifts the bar again and I concentrate on steadying the weight. Or at least, I try to. Damned if I want to admit that I’m all too interested in the possibility myself. “The only reason she came back is for her brothers. She and I have nothing to do with it.” “Then why are you going over there

to help out with the house? Why not just let her fall on her ass like you and I both know you want to?” Ben asks. My mind goes to those boys and the promises I’ve made. To their hopeful, expectant faces when I promised I wouldn’t abandon them right away. “Because her house is a health hazard,” I reply. “And I promised Donnie and Rafe.” I guide the weights to the stand and Ben sits up, wincing and rolling his shoulders. “Now are we gonna go a couple rounds in the ring or do you want to keep fucking talking like a couple of chicks?” “No need to get your panties in a wad,” Ben says grinning. “Asshole,” I spit out.

He throws an arm around my shoulders. “You know you love me.” “You and your wife think that means I won’t kick your ass.” Ben just smirks. “I’ve got an hour or so before Liv will be back from the doctor’s. First one to tap owes the other a beer.” I grin back at him, blood heating and muscles turning loose. Maybe a couple hits to the head will knock some sense into me. “You’re on.” Later, we thump to the mat. My muscles ache, I’m covered in sweat and I think he may have broken my nose. “We should do this more often,” I tell him when I’m able to catch my breath. Ben laughs through his own heavy

exhalations. “I think we’ll call it a tie,” he says. “Oh my,” comes a familiar voice. “Looks like Daddy and Uncle Jack are wrestling again.” The springy mat bounces as my nephew Cole lunges under the ropes and sprints toward me. “I’ll save you, Dad!” he shouts. Then he pounces, landing squarely on my stomach and knocking the wind from my lungs. Livvie and Ben, the traitors, burst out laughing while Cole scrambles to trap me in a hold. After a few minutes of pretending to put up a fight, I tap the mat. “I give, I give,” I wheeze. Cole rolls off, shaking with laughter, a huge grin splitting his face. Ben ruffles

his hair and scoops him up. “That’s my boy.” I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.” “Jack,” Livvie exclaims and leans over the ropes to cover Cole’s ears. “I have a hard enough time with this one’s dirty mouth. Y’all gotta stop.” Ben leans over to kiss her on the cheek. “I thought you liked my dirty mouth?” “And on that note, it’s time for me to get back to work.” I get to my feet and slap Ben on the back. “Thanks man, I needed that. Next time, keep your filth at home, though.” He slaps Livvie on the butt and I look skyward. “Kiss ass. I’m here to give you a good beat down whenever

you need it, man.” “Keep telling yourself that. You owe me a beer,” I add as I weave through the ropes and jump from the ring. “Bullshit,” he replies. “It was a tie, we’ll split.” “This isn’t a date, we’re not going dutch.” “You just can’t find a good man anymore,” Ben tells Livvie, who snorts. “You’re the one who never returns my calls,” I reply. “Okay you two,” Livvie says between laughs. I give her a hug and tug on Cole’s nose. “You take care of your Momma, ‘kay, little dude? Tell her to bring you by next week. We’ll work on that right

hook.” “So,” Livvie says, in a tone that I know from experience won’t lead to anything good. “Sofie and the boys came by for dinner. You should have stopped by to say hi.” “Livvie,” Ben warns. She holds her hands up. “Well, I’m just saying.” Ben rolls his eyes. I point a finger at her. “None of that, now. I just got finished kicking your husbands ass for talking shit. Mind your own business, little sister.” Livvie play-frowns. “If you say so.” “I do.” I back away in the direction of my office. Call it a tactical retreat. “Now scram. I’ve got work to do.”

“See you later, man,” Ben says with a wave of his hand. I hold two fingers up in acknowledgment. “Later.” “Come over sometime this week for dinner,” Livvie adds. But she and I both know it’s a ploy, so I ignore it. “Goodbye, you nut.” Ben throws an arm around Livvie’s shoulders and pulls her into his side. I can hear peels of Cole’s laughter as they head through the double doors that lead into the parking lot. A lot of happy memories were made in this place. A lot of memories like these. My smile falls as their shadows disappear around the corner of the building. Alone now, the rest of the gym

empty of members except for a couple in the locker rooms, all those thoughts I’d pushed away while in the ring with Ben come flooding back. The thought of her being so close shouldn’t affect me the way it does. My fingers shouldn’t itch to grab my keys and speed over to her place. I shouldn’t ache to pull her in my arms or want to crack a joke just to see her face brighten with a smile. Nassau never seemed like the small town that it is, at least not to me. It’s always been home base, the place that I go to chill out—or used to between deployments. Now it feels like a weight around my neck. The business that I can’t seem to get on track no matter how many

promotions or reduced memberships I offer. The girl who I planned to marry, but haven’t really spoken to in years. But most of all, the itch beneath my skin telling me it’s time to leave, time to move, do something where I’m needed, something meaningful. The gym grows quiet as a couple of my regulars shout goodbyes from the locker rooms and then follow Ben and Livvie out the door. This gym had been in my family for decades—it was my father’s dream when he retired from the Marines. After my mother died, it became his baby. If he wasn’t at the cabin or fishing on the lake, he was here, shaping up-and-coming mixed martial arts talent or teaching a kid’s class. This

place breathed life back into him after my mother’s death nearly killed him. When he had a stroke a few years back and my contract came back up for reenlistment, I couldn’t find it in me to leave him here alone. Livvie was still away at college and there would be no one to take care of the gym with him so sick. Leaving my guys, my brothers, hadn’t been an easy decision, but they understood. Even though it killed me to leave them behind, I moved back home to help Dad out while he recuperated. Then, after he died, the responsibility to keep it running fell to me and I didn’t want to let him down. I worried about it, though. Even now, as I flick the lights for the main room and

lock the front doors, I worry about it. The walls of my office are plastered with pictures of my team, of my graduating class from boot. There’s even a photo of Sofie mixed in, though I do my best to avert my eyes as I settle in my dad’s old scarred up desk. As I pull out the medical kit from the bottom drawer to doctor my nose, I think about my unit. They’ve deployed recently and I need to email one of those bastards to see how they’re doing. It’s always with a mix of anxiety, though, because there are times when those emails hold the things my nightmares are made of. Someone’s been hurt. Someone’s been killed. Someone who could have lived if I

had stayed. I open my laptop as a reminder to get on that shit before I forget, then open the handheld mirror from the kit and prop it up on my laptop screen to examine the damage. It’s swollen and blood has already pooled and hardened on my upper lip. My nose has been broken multiple times so I’ve given up going to the emergency room to treat it. There’s nothing I can do until the swelling goes down anyway. I open an antibiotic wipe and clean up the blood, grimacing through the sharp bite of pain. That done, I clean up a couple other cuts I’d gotten from one round or another. I throw the used wipes in the bin and pack the kit away for the next

time Ben gets up the sack to break my nose. I close the drawer and my phone rings. “This is Jack,” I answer. “Yo, bromigo. How’s it hangin’?” comes the response. “Grady Williams, you sonofabitch. How the hell are you?” Grady and I had deployed a couple times, until he jumped on a fucking grenade to save my life and the lives of our team members. The resulting injuries meant a brutal recovery, but he was making it day to day. Like so many other Marines that had fought and bled for their country. Or died for it. “PT is a bitch, man, but I have the

hottest therapist. An ass like you wouldn’t believe.” He chuckles over the line and I have no doubt what’s on his mind. “Anyway, what about you?” “Oh you know,” I reply, rifling through the mail on my desk. “Same old.” “So listen,” he says, “I just got an email from one of the guys and before you give me shit, I think you should seriously consider it.” Bright red ink catches my eye and I pull out a letter from our mortgage company. The word overdue burns itself into my retinas. “They haven’t announced it yet, but one of my old higher ups forwarded the info to me.”

I rip open the envelope and say, “Oh yeah? What’d it say?” “They’re recruiting for service members with prior experience. Sweet bonuses, too. I saw it and thought of you. I know how much you miss the Corps. And I know you hate being a fucking business owner.” “Fuck you. What does the Corps need with a washed up grunt?” I try to mask my interest, but I’m sure I fail miserably. “I’m forwarding the info to you now.” His voice turns serious. “I know that place means a lot to you man, trust me. But I’m telling you. You shouldn’t pass this up. You miss the Corps like I do, man. And I’d go back in a second if I

could.” “I know you would.” “You’ll think about it?” “Yeah, man, of course I will.” I toss the foreclosure notice onto the desk with the others and lean back into the chair. I run a hand over my face. “You sending it over now?” “Already done.” “I appreciate you having my back.” “Always. Anyway, hit me up if you do re-up, you lucky bastard.” “Go suck a dick,” I say in response. Grady clicks off and I toss my phone on the desk. My eyes flick over the wall in front of me and land on the photo of Sofie, smiling huge for the camera. For me. The

picture was taken the day before she left my life for good. I get to my feet and turn off all the lights. Now that the boys are taken care of, getting out of Nassau doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

Past

TEARS WELL IN my eyes and blur the darkened parking lot. I squeak out a protest against his sweaty palm as he starts to drag me behind the gym. My feet scrabble against the cement as I try to keep up with his long strides. There’s no

breaking his hold—it’s like trying to fight against solid rock. He shoulders his way through a door propped open with a brick and plunges us into darkness. My heart trips over itself and white spots dance in front of my eyes. I can’t seem to catch my breath and I choke on the stale air from the deserted room he pulls me into. This can’t be happening. One shove sends me flying through the shadows and I trip over my own feet, landing on a pile of old mats that smell like plastic, sweat, and feet. I turn to my back and try to get to my feet, but a hand appears and shoves me back down on my back. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he

says, his hands running over my shirt, cupping and squeezing my breasts through the material. “Now,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, “now you’re all mine.” My thoughts grind to a halt and I panic, freezing as they slip underneath my shirt and grasp at my bra. For an eternity he fondles, pinching and tugging his way underneath the cups until he touches bare skin. At that, everything speeds back up and I surge up, slapping away his hands, biting, and clawing. He sits up on his knees and draws his right arm away, then backhands me so hard my teeth clank together and I taste blood. “Fucking bitch.” His left hand comes to my throat and presses me

into the mat, my head vibrating from the blow and the rapidly decreasing availability of oxygen. My phone dings, causing my heart to thump heavily against my ribs. Damian chuckles as he reads the message on the screen. “What’s your passcode?” he asks. When I don’t respond immediately his right hand disappears for a second and then returns, flashing something thin and metallic, even with the lack of light. My body goes still as he brings the blade closer. He traces the curve of my cheek, presses the flat of it against my lips, parting them to knock against my teeth. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he says lowly, exposing my throat

and pressing the knife against the thump of my heartbeat. “2008,” I whisper. He taps the code in and sends a message to whoever texted. “There. Now he won’t be bothering us,” he says. “Wh-what did you do?” But I’m not sure if I want to know. He grins and his teeth flash in the darkness. “Just making sure we won’t be interrupted.” His body slithers over mine, his weight pressing me into the mats. “I saw the way you were looking at me. We don’t have to tell Jack. It can be our little secret.” His eyes gleam in the darkness, his mouth is a menacing slash above me. “Please, don’t,” I whisper. Tears

seep from my eyes and I pull Jack’s face to the forefront of my mind as Damian grinds himself between my legs, unhearing to my cries. He’s just a few rooms away, just a few steps, and yet I’ve never felt so completely removed from him. Damian tugs at the button on my jeans, jerking them down and off my legs along with my shoes. A breath whistles through his teeth. A hand, gentler this time, slides up my leg from calf to knee eliciting a shiver. Teeth flash above me. “Oh, you like that, huh?” I shake my head against the mat, bile rising in my throat. “No, please, stop. Just let me go,” I plead. “Oh, no,” he says softly, his fingers

tracing my panties. “I think you do like this.” “No, please,” I say as my whole body shakes uncontrollably. “Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, placing the blade at my neck and pressing down. Warm liquid trickles down my throat. I swallow my protests, causing the knife to slice deeper into my neck and I grip the mat in my sweat-slick hands, knotting the worn, loose material in my fingers. Oh God, he’s going to kill me. I’ll never see my Mom again. My brothers. Tears seep from the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks to join the pooling blood matting my hair. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and I can see his gaze follow

the line of blood down my throat. He lifts the edge of the blade and draws it down my neck, not enough to break the skin, but just enough to cause the blood to rush to the surface. And enough that I cry out. He removes my shirt next and does the same thing down my chest and between my breasts, drawing patters with the very tip of the knife along my skin. It hurts almost as bad as if he were to flay me open. I don’t dare breathe a word for fear he will do exactly that, so I swallow my screams, my body going dead still under him. When he gets bored with that, he uses his teeth and I almost beg to have the knife back, because at least with the

knife there was something in between me and his touch. His mouth presses over me hot and wet, tracing the lines he’s drawn on my skin. He pauses intermittently to bite viciously, unrelentingly, down. My shoulder, my neck, the soft curve of my arm, my nipples. Silent tears drip down my face and neck, stinging the raw wounds he’s carved into me. Later, it could be minutes, but it feels like hours, he lifts up and stares down at his handiwork. I shake with unreleased tears underneath him, my body bare and cold, right down to my bones. “Why are you doing this?” “I’m done talking,” he says. “Do I

need to go get Jack? Bring him in here to play? I didn’t know you were into that kinky shit, but I can if you want.” The thought of Jack seeing me, seeing this, is more than I can bear, but it doesn’t stop me from bringing one knee up between his legs as hard as I can. I don’t get much leverage, but his pained inhalation brings me intense satisfaction. He hunches into a ball on top of me, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. I try to heave him off of me while he’s distracted and manage to get him sprawled on his back. Ignoring the burning pain from the shallow cuts all over my torso, I scrabble to my feet, feeling blindly for the door. My hand catches the knob and I yank it open.

His weight slams into it beside me, then he grabs me by the hair and throws me to the ground. He prowls to me, then a booted foot connects with my ribs. “Fucking bitch,” he says. All the air has been sucked from my lungs, but I manage to say, “Fuck you,” before he kicks again. Then he’s kneeling down beside me, brushing the hair away from my face and wiping away the tears. He cups my cheek and I try to infuse my glare with defiance, but the ache in my side is excruciating and all I can mange to do is squint my eyes. “I didn’t want to do that,” he says. “Then don’t.” I suck in deep breaths, but pain and panic and fear overwhelm

my body’s need for oxygen. Spots dance in my vision and black threatens around the corners. It would almost be a relief if I could give in to unconsciousness. “You don’t have to. Let me go and I won’t say anything.” He pauses and despite myself, hope grows. Then he says, “No, I don’t think I will.” I sob in earnest then, even though it brings fresh waves of pain from my ribs and cuts. He soothes me, one hand roaming over his handiwork. “What do you want from me?” I manage when it feels like I’ve cried myself dry. “Everything,” he says. “Now let’s see if we can really have some fun.” My head lolls from side to side, even

as I bite my lip to stifle my protests. I feel relieved. Relieved that the threat of pain has passed—for now. He sets the knife next to us, far enough out of my reach so I don’t dare try to make a reach for it. His hand explores in earnest now, mapping my legs and quivering stomach. Except they’re gentle, like a lover’s hands and my body recognizes them as such. Even though I hate myself for it, I soften at the loving touch, responding with a soft exhale. Relief shifts, molds, and turns into arousal and I’m so grateful there’s no pain that my weary body leans into the pleasure of his caress. “There you go,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down the seam of my panties. My hips catch and a sob breaks free.

“Shh, it’s okay.” I turn my face away, but he pulls my chin back with a firm hand and makes me watch as he slides one hand underneath my waistband. His eyes are glued to the sight, so he doesn’t notice when I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only seems to make it worse, intensifying the light, easy, arousing brush of his fingers against me. My chest heaves as my body betrays me, moving toward his touch instead of away. The grip on my face turns bruising as his breathing grows heavy. “You like that?” he whispers, his fingers growing more insistent. “I know you like it. Show me how much and I’ll let you go.” I shake my head, but he’s so intent

upon his actions he doesn’t seem to notice. I go somewhere else in my mind, anywhere else, as his attentions ignite a fire low in my stomach. I stop fighting, and lie there, a mindless, base creature, enjoying the touch of a monster. When it’s over, there’s nothing left in me. No more tears. No more pleas. I’m hollow, scraped raw. Above me, he groans and bile leaps to my throat. He rolls off, breathing heavily and throws an arm over his head. “I knew you liked it,” he says after an eternity. “No one would believe that you didn’t want that just as much as I did.”

His words float away as the darkness finally, thankfully consumes me.

For days I try to call Sofie, but they all go to voicemail. The day before I’m due to fly back to South Carolina, I manage to corner her mom in their front yard. “Mrs. Varano, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. I’m worried about her.” Begging leaves a nasty taste in the back of my throat, but I don’t know what

else to do. Mrs. Varano pushes the screen door open. “You can try talking to her, but she’s been so very sick these past few days. She probably didn’t want you to catch whatever bug she’s got.” “Yes, ma’am. I won’t stay long. I just have to make sure she’s okay. You and I both know she’s not the easiest sick person to be around.” I try to make my voice light, but the joke falls flat. Sofie’s mom nudges me forward. “She’s in her room. You go on back.” The yellow hallway light flickers as I make my way to her room. I knock, but there’s no answer, so I push the door open, my heart racing. Sofie looks up from the suitcase she’s packing, her tear-

streaked face red and puffy. Her baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants nearly swallow her. Her hand goes to her throat and her already pale face drains of color. “JJack, what are you doing here?” I frown, my brows pulling together. I look back in the hallway like I’m going to find the answers there, then look back at her. “What do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing?” She glances down at the clothes in her hands and the suitcase in front of her knees. She places the handful of shirts inside and zips it shut. “I’m—a… nothing. I’m just packing.” “Sure doesn’t look like nothing.” I step inside her room and close the door.

“What’s going on? You said you were sick and then you didn’t answer any of my texts. I’ve been fucking worried about you, Sof.” She jerks back as I get closer and I frown. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have texted you back,” she says. I wave that away. I want to go to her, but there’s a knot growing in my stomach that keeps me from taking another step farther into her room. Forcing my voice to remain calm, I say, “I don’t care about that, I just want to know that you’re okay.” She lifts a shoulder and the sweater falls off baring angry red marks. “Of course I am,” she says, tugging the sweater back up her arm, her thin smile

wobbling. “Then what the hell are you doing? And what the hell happened to your shoulder.” She sets back on her heels, gets to her feet, and tucks her trembling hands behind her back “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from moving things around. I’m fine, I promise.” “Then why do you look like you’re about to blow chunks or run away screaming? I’m not mad. I mean I was, but I’m not really mad, baby. I was just worried.” Pressing her lips together, she sighs, then says, “I just didn’t know how to tell you.” My stomach clenches. “Tell me what,

Sof?” My voice is rougher than I intend it to be and she shrinks back a little. I force my tone to gentle. “Tell me what?” “I’m leaving,” she says to her feet. The gas chamber at boot would have been easier to take. “The hell do you mean you’re leaving?” She squares her shoulders and finally manages to meet my eyes. The emptiness in hers causes the knot in my stomach to triple. “I mean I’m going and I’m not coming back.” My hands ball into fists by my sides. “Where are you going?” Now that she’s confessed her secret, the words start coming more quickly. Except now I wish I hadn’t convinced her to talk. “I’m going to test out of the

rest of my classes here for this semester. I’ve got enough credits to graduate early. I’ve already spoken to the counselor at Tulane and accepted their offer. I start in the fall.” Those hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “That’s good, though, isn’t it? That’s what you wanted.” I scrub a hand through my hair. “You’re acting like this is a bad thing, Sof, and you’re really fucking starting to freak me out.” “No, I mean, yeah, it’s good.” “Then, I don’t understand. What’s the problem?” I cross the room and gesture for her to sit next to me on the bed. Before I left, before we were faced with the sudden shift in our relationship dynamic, coming here was easy. We’d

sit on her bed and talk for hours. This time, she doesn’t lean back against my chest and play with my fingers as she chatters about our future. Instead, her back is ramrod straight and her eyes dart to the door every few seconds like she’s searching for an escape. When she doesn’t say anything, I change tactics. “Why wouldn’t you text me back?” Apprehension claws at my throat, makes it hard to choke the words out. I can feel the whole situation going bad, but there aren’t any moves I can make from here to salvage it. “I think we should break up,” she says, her face carefully blank now. Her whole body is wound up like a top. I’ve had a lot of training over the

past year. Live grenades, sophisticated weapons, war-hardened Marines with a grudge. I’ve gone to thousands of briefings and trainings and classes designed to teach me how to respond in any and every situation that may come up during war and none of them have prepared me for this. “You’re going to be in South Carolina, I’m going to be in Louisiana. You’ll probably deploy soon and I know I’ll be going to graduate school at some point. I won’t be able to follow you around the globe wherever they decide to send you next. What’s the point in dragging this out?” she asks, unable to meet my eyes. “What’s the point? I don’t want to keep you in a relationship that’s

going nowhere. It’s not fair to you.” I try for a calm response. “You know none of that bothers me. You know I said I would wait for you to finish school before we made any decisions. I don’t have a problem with a long distance relationship.” “Well, I do,” she snaps. I jerk backwards. “Since when?” The whole world has to be off-axis. Tilted a couple degrees in the wrong direction because I’ve never felt so off in my life. Scrabbling for control, I ask, “What are you saying?” She sucks in a deep breath. “I’m saying, I’m not sure if I want to spend the next few years of my life holding out on a future that may or may not happen.

I’m seventeen, Jack. I’ll be in college. These are supposed to be the best years of my life. I shouldn’t be spending my Friday nights on video chats with someone a world away when I could be having fun. Enjoying myself.” When I’m not able to find the words to respond, she gets to her feet and drags out another suitcase, flinging me a defiant glance over her shoulder. “You should just go, Jack. I want you to go.” Confident she’ll change her mind in a couple days, I take the few steps to cross her room and stand in front of her. I cup her cheek with one hand, but she flinches away so I grit my teeth and drop it by my side. “You wait until the day before I’m leaving to tell me this? I guess that’s

better than writing me a letter or doing it over the phone right?” “I’m so sorry, Jack,” she says, her voice barely over a whisper. Shaking my head, I open the door. I have to get out of here. Get away from here. “Goodbye, Sof,” I say.

Present

“SOFIE,” COMES A voice from the end of my bed. After hours staring at the note I found on the porch, I finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep around 2 a.m. I squint my eyes at the clock and see barely two hours have passed, even

though it feels like seconds. Alarm shoots me straight up in the bed when I hear the tell-tale sounds of Donnie about to ralph, then he adds, “I don’t feel so good.” I have mere seconds from the statement until he’s doubled over the toilet in my bathroom. I rub his back with a hesitant palm, because isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with a sick kid? Even if he’s nearly as tall as you are and big enough to toss you around a little. When he’s done he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You okay?” I ask. What is wrong? Did he eat something bad? Is it the flu? I resist the urge to abandon him in the bathroom to

do a quick internet search for communicable diseases in North Florida. While he flushes and shuts the lid on the toilet, I wet a washcloth with cool water and press it against his forehead. “I don’t know. I just feel crappy. Do you think I could stay in here with you for a while?” I pause before I answer, unsure of taking this step. Can I do this? This is what mothers should do. I’ve never even taken care of a goldfish, let alone a sick kid. All those mothering genes must have skipped my generation. Studying Donnie in the pale fluorescent light, I bite my cheek. He keeps his eyes on the floor studying his

Superman socks and seeing them makes my insides warm and soft. I tuck an arm around his waist because reaching his shoulders is a no-go, and lead him to my bed. After I wrap him up in my covers and smooth the hair away from his face, I say, “Let me go get a big bowl, okay?” I’ve been very okay with being alone. I learned that the hard way. There have been a few times, though, when I’ve actually craved having the comfort of my overbearing Italian mother and when I’m sick is one of them, so God only knows how this kid feels because instead of her knowing, comforting presence, I’m all he’s got. I’m all he’s got. The thought stops me in the middle of

the dark, silent kitchen, clutching the big white bowl my mom kept from my days with an upset stomach. “Sofie,” comes his plaintive call down the hallway, spurring me back into action. I round the doorway into my bedroom and find Donnie curled in a fetal position on my bed. “Hey, here we go.” I place the bowl on the floor by the bed. “Do you need anything else?” I murmur, feeling his forehead because it feels like the thing mothers would do. “Water,” he croaks, hugging a pillow to his stomach and groaning. “Right, one sec.” On my way to grab a glass, I snag my phone off the nightstand and frantically

dial Livvie’s number. Coding, piece of cake. Hacking, no sweat. Taking care of a sick kid? Color me clueless. Thankfully, she answers after the first ring. “Hello?” “Livvie, thank God. Donnie is throwing up and I don’t know what the hell to do.” She moans. “I think we passed it around ‘cause all of us have it too.” “Well, shit,” I say. “Just give him some sips of water until he’s able to keep them down. Then little bites of bland food and Gatorade. Should go away in twenty-four hours. If Rafe isn’t already sick, too, I’d keep him away from Donnie for a while until it passes.”

“Great.” I barely know how to handle Donnie, I don’t know what the hell I would do if both of them get sick. “You’ll be fine. Call me in the morning if you need anything.” She makes a strangled sound in her throat and the line goes dead. “Sofie!” Donnie calls from the bedroom. Stumbling through the darkness, a glass of water clutched in my hand, I feel the first stirrings of nausea and pray it’s just the coiling of nerves. I press a hand to my mouth as I stumble from my bedroom to my bathroom. My foot catches on the little step up to the bathroom and I nearly knock myself out when my head collides

with the towel rack. With one hand nursing the bruise forming on my head and the other holding back my hair, I lose what little contents I have left into the toilet. A glint of sunlight catches my eye and on any other day, I’d love its redgold hues shimmering through the window, but not today. Not after the night of hell. Now, the sight of it makes me nauseous, but then again, so does pretty much anything at this point. I flush, then rinse out my mouth. I can already see a good sized goose-egg forming on my brow in the mirror. I groan. Hopefully, that disappears before I start my new job in town next week. I manage to shuffle back to my bedroom

and slip carefully between the covers so I don’t disturb the two sleeping teens. I tap out Livvie’s number on my cell and hope she hasn’t died from the plague. If she feels anything like me, she’s damn near close to death as it is. The phone rings and I will my eyes to stay open and my stomach to stay settled. The line clicks and a groan answers. “Livvie,” I manage to croak out, my head now pounding from the serious beating and exhaustion. Another groan and some garbled words, then static as someone fumbles with the phone. “Hey, Sof, it’s Ben. Guessing you’re not feeling too good.” “Stomach bug, I think. Livvie said

you guys had it to.” I curl into a ball, the warmth of my brothers at my back and their deep, inhalations the only sound in the darkened room. “I’m pretty sure we’re all dying.” “Yeah, she and Cole are laid up as we speak. Is there anything you guys need? How can I help? I know one kid is a handful, can’t imagine how it’s been with two sick ones.” “You’re a saint. I was going to ask if you could pick up an emergency pack of Popsicles, but you’re taking care of Livvie and Cole, so I don’t want to bother you.” “Don’t be stupid. I’d come over myself, but you’re right, I don’t want to leave these two alone. Livvie’s already

threatening to kill me.” I’m making plans to live out the last of my days in this room when he says, “I’ll have Jack pick up some stuff for you and stop by on his way to the gym.” My heart jumps to my throat and if I had the energy, I would have bolted straight up in the bed. As it is, I can only manage a feeble, “No!” that sounds like the croak of a frog. “I don’t want to bother Jack.” Donnie grabs my arm, his palm feverish against my skin. “Jack,” he mumbles, his voice broken and scratchy. “Please.” As much as I want to protest, I can’t stand seeing either of them so miserable. The whole night I’d been up and down

with Donnie and checking on Rafe to make sure he didn’t get it as well. I’d literally worried myself sick. I can’t begrudge them anything that will make them feel better. Even if it involves bringing in the last person I could possibly want to see me like this. “Fine,” I tell Ben. “Tell him thanks. I appreciate it.” He shushes a whining Cole in the background. “Okay,” he says to me. “I’ll call him right now and tell him to hurry. Is there anything else you guys need?” “No, that’s all. Thanks, Ben. I hope you guys feel better.” “Hell, me, too. I’ll come by and check on you guys later.” “Sounds good,” I tell him.

He hangs up and I drop my phone somewhere on the floor. I slip into a drugged half-sleep. When my doorbell rings not even twenty minutes later, I sit up and immediately regret it when my stomach revolts. I forget about the door and run to the bathroom, tip-toeing as quietly as possible so I don’t wake the finally sleeping boys. My head throbs by the time I’m done and I worry about getting back to my feet without passing out. Heat wraps around my arm and I look down and find a lightly tanned hand wrapped around my elbow. I frown, following the hand to a thickly corded arm encased in a thermal tee. It’s a forest green that I know will match his eyes

perfectly. I reach his eye-level and have trouble keeping on my feet. The kind, soulful look I find doesn’t help. It reminds me too much of the easy way things used to be between us. “I’ve got you,” he says, looping an arm around my waist. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed.” I can’t help it. It just slips out. “Now that’s a line I’ve heard before.” I slap a hand over my mouth. Jack grins. “You must be feeling pretty bad, huh, baby?” I don’t reply for fear that something else equally embarrassing will slip out without my permission. I lean heavily into his side as he guides me back to my room. When he steps in and pauses for a

second to look around, I have a little mental panic about having him in my bedroom again. The boys snore lightly, sprawled across my bed so Jack diverts his aim to my mom’s old room across the hall. Thankfully, I am so exhausted that I can only give freaking out about having him here a passing thought. He helps me onto the bed and glances around the room. I do the same, spotting the little teddy bear he gave me when he got back from boot camp on my mom’s dresser and my nose burns with tears. I can’t believe she kept it. It’s little Marine utility uniform has seen better days, but it looks exactly like it did the day he gave it to me. When he pulls back the pastel

colored-chevron patterned comforter, I can tell he notices the bear because his hands pause for a second. I bite my lip as he leads me down under the covers. He doesn’t say anything, but I do notice that he looks at me with questions in his eyes. He flicks the covers over me and I recline back on my pile of pillows. He pauses for a second, his big body entirely too at home being so close to me. Then, he leans down and reaches over me. For a second, my breath catches in my throat. He pulls back with the bear in his hand and a little smile playing on his lips. He tucks the bear in next to me. I grasp for a different subject before

I combust. “How did you get in here?” Jack sits on the edge of the bed and puts a big hand on my forehead. I manage to catch myself before I lean in to the warmth of his touch. “I still had your spare key. I got your Popsicles. I can’t believe you still have to have those when you’re sick. I think I got the right kind, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had to do your lady shopping at the grocery store.” “I can’t believe you remember that.” He assesses me with a small smile. “I remember a lot of things about you,” he says. His intense scrutiny makes me squirm under the covers. “I also got you some sports drinks, crackers, bananas and shit. Livvie had a whole list of

things that are supposed to be good for kids when they can’t keep anything down.” “You didn’t have to do that. The boys just needed something to settle their stomachs. They were able to finally get to sleep and I figured they’d be hungry when they woke up.” “It’s no big deal.” He shrugs and glances away. “I’ve been here a lot for the boys over the past few years. And the gym has desensitized me to any and all types of bodily fluids.” Wincing, I clutch a hand to my stomach and try to purge the thought from my mind. “Still.” “Looks like you aren’t doing too bad on that front either,” he murmurs,

nodding towards my old bedroom where the boys’ snores echo. Frowning, I look back at the doorway to my room and then at him. “What do you mean?” “For someone who was so convinced they couldn’t raise them, you seem to be holding your own.” I gulp down the compliment and if I had any blood left in my body, it would have rushed to my face. “I—uh, well, thanks.” Blinking furiously, I glance away from his relentless stare. “Thanks for coming by like this. I hope it’s not a problem with the—uh gym and all. I wouldn’t have had Ben make you come, but Donnie asked for you.” Jack waves that away with one big

hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough manpower to watch over the gym for the rest of the day. Consider me your slave.” He shrugs playfully. My eyes bulge and my fingers spasm around the little bear. “Rest of the day?” I damn near whisper. “No, that’s too much. I’m all set now, Jack. Promise.” “Shut up.” He kisses me on the forehead and shocks a gasp from my chest. Goddammit, he can’t do things like that. “I’m going to go get your Popsicles and something to drink. Then, I’ll get you set up in here. I don’t know why the hell your mom never put a T.V. in here. Fuckin’ shame.” He doesn’t give me a chance to protest. Instead he gets to his feet,

tucking the sheets even more tightly around me. His fingers brush the sensitive sides of my breasts and I curse the fact that they can perk up even though I feel like death. What fresh hell is this? If I had any energy whatsoever I would definitely put on something cuter than an old pair of boxers and T-shirt. Not that I want to give Jack any ideas, but I always had every interaction with Jack carefully planned. I had to. Now he’s here when I’m most vulnerable and I have no shields left to put up. Knowing Jack, if I give him any slack, he’ll worm his way back into all the cracks and reclaim the heart that had always been his.

Jack returns brandishing a red Popsicle and a bottle of my favorite flavor sports drink. I immediately forget my worries about having a man in the room while I’m in bed for the first time in forever. Especially this man. “Thank you,” I say, accepting the drink. “Not too much,” he cautions, reclining on the spot next to me. “You don’t want it to upset your stomach.” I take a couple sips and nearly moan at how good it tastes. Green apple is the nectar of the gods. I hand him back the bottle to put on my nightstand and he exchanges it for the Popsicle. “What about the T.V.?” I ask around a bite. “In a sec, I just wanted to make sure

you could keep that down first.” He’s going to kill me with kindness. That has to be his plan. “I’m fine, really. Besides, I’m probably just going to sleep once you head out. I really appreciate you bringing this by. You’re a lifesaver.” “I’m not staying here without a little T.V. If we’re going to play hooky, then we’re going to do it right.” I nearly choke on a piece of flavored ice. “What?” I say to his back. Clearly, I’m missing a key part of our conversation. He returns, wheeling in the T.V. that I keep in my living room. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask. “Gonna hook it up in here…”

“I appreciate that, but I hope you don’t think you’re staying in here with me. If anything, the boys wanna see you.” “I’ll be here when they wake up. Probably better to let them sleep while they can, anyway. So much better than the paperwork waiting for me back at the gym.” “You don’t mean to say that you’re staying,” I reiterate. “Here.” He plops on the bed next to me, surrounding me in his familiar woodsy scent. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I clear my throat. “Um, why?” “That goose egg on your head for one thing. That and you could barely get yourself back to bed. You’ll be no good

to the boys laid up.” Warmth that has nothing to do with my illness washes over me. “Why are you really doing this, Jack?” The moment the words slip past my lips, I want to take them back. He pauses, considering his words. “You know why,” he says, running a hand over his dark hair. It’s grown since the last time I saw him. His bangs hang lazily across his forehead and my fingers twitch by my side. When we were teenagers, I wouldn’t have hesitated to run them through his hair or tug him close to me. Ben and Olivia used to give us shit all day long for our PDA. It all seems too familiar. I clear my throat and shake the memories out of my

head. “I really don’t,” I say breathlessly, and I wish I could say it’s from the illness. “I don’t know why you’re doing any of this.” I gesture around the room. “I brought you back here for the boys because they deserve you, and because your mother asked me to,” he says, his voice calm and level, his eyes on mine. I hold his gaze, even though every fiber inside of me wants to tuck under the blankets and hide. “But why are you being nice to me now? You and I both know we can rarely be in the same room together without butting heads. I’m shocked we aren’t arguing right now.” “I wouldn’t piss you off when you’re sick. Besides, the boys need us on the

same team right now, and I figure we’re both adult enough to be friends.” A sharp pain spears through my chest. “Oh, um, right. Of course.” He cocks his head. “Don’t you think that’s the right thing to do?” There were so many times when I thought I was doing the right thing. For so long, I carried the hope that a miracle might bring the two of us back together. How stupid and surprisingly naïve of me. He’s right, of course. The boys deserve a stable environment. He deserves a break, at least from me, and, more than anything, to be happy. I had caused him enough undue grief over the years. It’s only fair that I set him free, as

the old adage goes. “No, you’re right.” I swallow thickly. “We should put it behind us. Start over with a fresh slate.” Jack smiles easily, the corners of his lips tipping up to reveal the killer dimple I love so much. “Good,” he says. “That’s real good.” “Right, good.” I try to return the smile, but I’m afraid it’s more of a weird facial tic than anything resembling an expression of grace and poise. Low voices from across the hall catch my attention. “I better go check on them to make sure they’re okay.” “No, you stay right here. I’ll go look in on them.” Then he does something that completely devastates my resolve to

agree to his fresh slate proposal. He leans forward, puts a hand under my jaw, and brushes a kiss as soft as butterfly wings across the crest of my cheek. My hands come up to clasp at his biceps because if I didn’t, I’d simply melt into a puddle at his feet. He pauses there for what seems like an eternity and there is magic in it. Magic that transports me back to a thousand other kisses like this. Magic that undoes every door I’ve closed in my heart, blocking the feelings I had for him once upon a time. We stay like that for a few beats past the line of propriety. I feel his fingers twitch on my jaw, like he wants to move, but can’t seem to make himself do it. In spite of everything, I find myself arching

my neck to him automatically. His swift inhalation breaks the moment and I catch myself. Shit. “I think I’m going to take a shower,” I say, flinging the covers from me and hopping from the bed. I cross the hall and close the door to the bathroom to put myself back to rights. After I start the water for a shower, I splash some on my face and pull back my mop of thick brown curls. I let the water run over a cloth and wring it out to place over my heated neck. I’d gotten through the first at-home encounter relatively unscathed. Maybe putting our past behind us was what I had to do to finally get him to move on. Apparently, pushing him away with

sharp words and distance wasn’t enough, especially now with us taking care of the boys and living in the same town again. Maybe he needed the closure to put this—us—behind him. A knock comes at the bathroom door. “You okay in there?” “I’m fine,” I shout back, pleased my voice doesn’t betray the emotions in my churning stomach. I pull the washcloth from my neck and wipe away the evidence of my anguish. If I can convince everyone else what we had in the past is over—finally over—then maybe, I’ll start to believe it myself. If I can do that, maybe I can forget what happened all those years ago. To start, I wipe away the reality that

he still smells the same, the sizzle that a mere ghosting of his lips can still evoke against my skin, and the startling moment of intuition that he was disappointed when I didn’t fight back.

Present

I SLEEP ON the couch, but I don’t do much real sleeping at all. Once the house settles and the boys go back to sleep after a long day of recuperating, I strain for sounds from Sofie’s bedroom. Each rustle from her sheets and every sleepy

grumble tightens muscles I’d long since forgotten. Muscles that seem to remember her, no matter how much I try distract myself with thoughts of work. By the time the first dregs of predawn light filter through the living room curtains, I’ve given up trying to sleep. I get to my feet and pull on my jeans, ignoring the aching muscles caused by the cramped makeshift bed. “Timizit?” Rafe asks from the doorway, ruffling his spiky hair. “Time for breakfast, kid. Go get your brother, but keep it quiet. We don’t want to wake your sister up if she’s still feeling bad.” Rafe ambles away, and I slip into my shirt and try to rub feeling back into my

face. Normally, my wake-up routine includes about a gallon of coffee and a couple of shots right to the face from whoever I’m training at the time, but just the coffee will have to do for now. I’m sure when Sof gets up she may be inclined to lend a hand on the punching aspect, depending on her level of moodiness. I catch myself smiling in the kitchen window as I stare outside with a mug of coffee in my hand. It’s a bad move to settle in like this. A bad move for all of us. I wipe the smile off my face, chug the rest of the coffee, and remind myself about the conversation we had yesterday. I’m here for the boys’ sake and that’s it. “What’s for breakfast?” Donnie says,

launching himself into a chair at the table. Rafe follows close behind, stifling a yawn. Brushing thoughts of Sofie laying warm and soft a couple feet away from my mind, I turn my attention to the boys. “You guys up for some eggs and toast?” “How about donuts?” Rafe suggests, grinning, his smile so like his sister’s I catch myself smiling back. “How about no?” I counter. They grumble, but offer no other resistance as I serve them up some orange juice and make a plate of eggs, only partially burnt, and lightly buttered toast. I grab another cup of coffee and join them at the table. “Seem to be feeling

better,” I comment after I down half the cup. “Yeah,” Rafe says around a bite of toast. “A little bit.” “Think you’ll be up for school tomorrow?” That earns me a groan from both of them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Donnie eyes me with interest. “Are you and Sofie back together?” Coffee nearly shoots out of my nose and I choke back a cough with another swallow. “No, she—I… we’re not together, Don. I’m just helping her because you guys got sick. That’s all.” “Who would want to be with her anyway?” Rafe mutters into his forkful of eggs.

“Hey,” I say sharply. “I don’t want you talking about her like that. She’s your sister.” “She left you, too,” he says, his face hard. “People do a lot of things, but most of them deserve second chances.” “Is that why you’re helping her?” Donnie asks. I pause before answering, then I say, “Yeah, Don, that’s why. Sometimes people hurt you, and sometimes it really sucks, but they deserve a second chance. Especially your sister because she’s your family. I know losing your mom was hard, I lost my dad, too. You guys remember. She’s the only person you have left. Don’t give up on her just yet.”

“We’ve got you, don’t we?” Rafe asks. Smiling, I scrub his hair affectionately. “Of course you do.” The sound of the door closing has me crossing the kitchen to put my empty cup in the sink. “I’m gonna go check on her. You two finish your breakfast and get your rooms cleaned up today since you’re feeling better.” Their grumbles follow my retreating back, but my mind is already on the sounds coming from the other side of the bathroom door. “Morning, sunshine,” I say with a rap of my knuckles. “Go away,” she shouts from the other side of the door. At least that much hasn’t changed. Sofie’s not what I’d call

an early riser. I hear a toilet flush and then the sound of water. Impatient to see if her color’s come back, I knock again. She flings the door open and glowers. “There has to be something illegal about you staying here against my will. I think I have Logan’s number in my phone. You better get going before I find the strength to call him.” I laugh, relief spreading through my chest. If she has enough energy to throw attitude, she’s definitely gotta be feeling better “Logan is on administrative leave again, so you’re out of luck there,” I say, following close behind as she limps to her room. She plops on the bed and wraps

herself in the nest of comforters. “Wait, what? I thought you were about to call him the other day when I showed up?” “You mean broke in?” She rolls her eyes and I grin. “I lied. Figured the threat of jail would probably convince you to stay just to spite me.” “You are such an ass,” she snaps as she sucks water from a straw. Even with her hair thrown up in a messy bun and wearing PJ’s consisting of an old T-shirt and shorts, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Especially, when the fight comes into her eyes. There are a few beats of silence before I remember to respond. “And you’re stubborn. Speaking of, I don’t want you to leave this bed until you’ve

had something to eat, so don’t get it in your mind to go running around trying to do everything. I’ve got the boys handled for today. You just rest.” She glares at me. “There are other cops in Nassau.” “Sure, sure,” I say, forcing her to recline back into the covers while I head to the kitchen to fix her a plate. When I return, she’s engrossed in the latest episode of the sitcom I convinced her to watch. I hold up her plate. “Here you g —” Snatching it from me with a waved hand, she hisses, “Shut up, this is the good part.” Yes, it is. I refrain from voicing the sentiment as I join her on the bed. This

feels so familiar, so normal, I almost never want to leave. Who thought being friends was a good idea? I fumble for a topic of conversation to distract me from that line of thought. “When do you start work at your new job?” “Next week,” she says through a yawn, half eaten plate of food forgotten on the bed. She fidgets, nearly sending it crashing to the floor. I chuckle, moving it off to the side and position her around me. The full sized bed is barely enough room for the two of us, and I’m not quite ready to pop the bubble of contentment I’m feeling, so I scoot close enough so she can rest her head on my shoulder. I don’t know what’s worse. Having

her this close after all these years, or not being able to do anything about it. “You excited about it?” I ask, my voice low as her lids start to droop. She mumbles something, nodding against my chest until her eyes flutter closed. “That’s my girl,” I whisper, running a hand over her hair. We doze on and off, and I can’t remember a time when I slept as peacefully as I do with her in my arms. When I wake a couple hours later, the static from the T.V. in the background and the scent of her shampoo surrounding me, my first reaction is to kiss her awake. The thought of tasting her again after all these years jerks me the rest of the

way awake, and I shift her out of my arms and sit up, rubbing a hand across my face. I get to my feet and glance back, finding her awake. Covering my own confusion with a grin, I say, “I’m gonna grab you another cup of water and check on the boys. Why don’t you grab a shower?” She frowns. “Are you trying to hint that I stink?” I hold my hands up and start backing away. “I would never say such a thing.” When she scoffs and jumps to her feet, I shout at her back, “I promise I won’t dig around in your underwear drawer!” With her safely tucked in the bathroom and out of my reach, I check on the boys and clean up the mess in the

kitchen. As I put away the dishes and wipe down the tables and countertops, I force myself away from thoughts of Sofie naked and wet just a few feet away. The boys are amusing themselves with a movie in the living room, for fuck’s sake. The bathroom door opens with a click and I straighten, my gut tightening. Steam billows out and her head peeks through the crack in the door. Water drips down her tanned skin and splatters on the floor at her bare feet. “Jack,” she says with her brows raised. Shit, had I missed something? I toss the dirty washcloth I was using to wipe down the sticky counters and the sink. Turning, I say to a spot about two

feet above her head, “Yeah?” “I said could you grab me some clothes. I forgot to get some.” “Yeah, sure.” Fuck my life. The last thing I want to be doing is touching her bras and panties and thinking of her wearing them. “Thanks. They’re just in the office in my suitcase. I haven’t got around to unpacking yet.” “Right,” I mutter and book it as far away from her as I can get. It’s only been a couple of days, and already the house is starting to feel like hers, smell like hers. I groan, instantly regretting my decision to help her fix up the place. Her suitcase is splayed open on the desk and I rifle through it,

randomly grabbing the first things my fingers come in contact with. The door to the bathroom is still propped open so I slip through, setting the clothes on the sink. Her body is a striking silhouette on the other side of the shower curtain, but even with the barrier between us, I can see she’s grown into her generous curves. “Will these work?” I ask when I manage to get my voice back. She glances out the curtain offering me a tantalizing view of her shoulder. Her laugh breaks me from my fantasies about exactly what I would do to her there. “You forgot a shirt, genius,” she says. I groan. “Fine. Your plate is ready

when you get out. Do you need anything else?” “No, thanks. You really didn’t have to do all this,” she says from the other side of the curtain. “I know. Consider this a favor owed if it makes you feel any better.” With any luck, I can get the repairs on this place knocked out, the gym squared away, and then get the hell out of dodge, where the most tempting thing will be which MRE to eat for dinner. “Not that I asked you to help, but fine,” she says. “I can owe you one.” “We’re on a fast track to becoming besties. I can feel it,” I tell her to dispel the growing tension. She chuckles and I have to turn away

from the sight of her breasts outlined in the light coming through the window. I can barely hear her response over the blood rushing from my brain straight to my dick. “Well, you’ve held my hair while I puked and played with my underwear. I’d say you’re closer than Livvie and me at this point.” “I don’t know how to process Livvie and your underwear in the same sentence, so I’m going to ignore all of that and go grab your shirt. Then Doctor Jack says it’s time for breakfast.” “Yes, doctor.” I stop myself short of the office and press a forearm into the wooden doorframe. Resting my head on my arm, I exhale one long, slow breath. I thought

she was dangerous when she was younger, but Sofie all grown up is lethal. The water stops behind me, so I straighten and hunt for a shirt from her suitcase. It’s one of those deals where the top part of the suitcase has a clip that unhooks and hinges down for another layer of storage. I undo the clip and shirts tumble out onto the table. I flip through them, guiltily enjoying the scent of her perfume when my finger slices along the fine edge of a piece of paper. Cursing, I pull it out from between two T-shirts to set it aside and find a letter addressed to Sofie. From Damian. What the fuck? I read it before I even make the conscious decision to do so. I should

feel bad about it, but when I process its contents, I move passed guilt and straight into pissed off. In it he writes about their amazing night together. How he can’t wait to see her again now that she’s back in town. I have to read it two more times before I can fully process the words. Wet feet slap against the wooden floor followed shortly by a soft inhalation. I turn, the world shifting on its axis, to find Sofie wide-eyed and dressed only in a towel. Thrown back ten years, unable to make my thoughts align, unable to catch my breath, unable to think, I growl, “Sofie, what the fuck is this?” She blinks a few times, otherwise unresponsive to the letter I thrust in her

direction. Glancing down at the piece of paper, she knots one hand in the towel at her chest and takes it in her hand. Her eyes flick across the words and then back at me. “It’s a letter,” she says calmly, striding passed me. My throat constricts with ten years of angry arguments. “Care to explain it?” I say after I collect myself. She jerks a thin robe from her suitcase with quick, efficient movements and wraps it around her, ditching the towel and cinching the robe up at her waist. “I don’t think it’s any of your business anymore, Jack.” My vision flashes red. “Don’t fucking play games with me.” Coolly, she wraps a towel around

her damp hair and curls it on the top of her head. “None of this is a game to me.” God, who is this woman? This cool, disengaged creature who is nothing like the girl I used to know. The evidence of her betrayal shakes in my outstretched hand, a demand, a plea. “Then, please, explain to me why one of my friends is writing you love letters?” She lifts one slim shoulder, the collar of her robe slipping down to expose one creamy white shoulder. “How the hell am I supposed to know? People do crazier things all the time. That doesn’t mean it means anything.” Rage bubbles thick and hot inside my chest. “You brought it with you. Obviously it means something.”

“What do you want me to tell you, Jack? What answer could I possibly say here that you would believe?” She presses a hip into the side of the desk, her gaze even. “For the first time in ten years, I just want you to tell me the truth. No bullshit.” I study her for any show of emotion whatsoever, but her face stays empty of response. “The truth is, it’s none of your business.” I jerk back, her words a slap in the face. The friendship we had, the love I thought transcended everything, apparently meant nothing to her. I take three steps forward and toss the letter on the graveyard of her clothes scattered

over the surface of her desk. “So you fucked him? Is that why you left town? Why you left me?” She sighs, as though having this conversation is beneath her, not worth her time. “Do you want me to say it? Fine, I fucked him. I fucked him the night mom and I came back from New Orleans. I wasn’t sick that night. I was with him.” She pauses, weighing the tense silence. “Is that what you want to hear, Jack? Do you want to hear how many times he made me come?” For the first time she shows a slice of emotion across her face, just a tightening of the muscles around her eyes and mouth, the slightest sneer around her lips. “How much I screamed for him?”

My fists clench by my hips, my feet are rooted to the ground. She slept with one of my friends. “Jesus Christ,” I breathe, at a loss for words. Did I even know her at all? “I think it’s time for you to go,” she says firmly. Time passed. I turn without another word, my steps heavy, and walk out of the room. When I get home a few hours later after driving aimlessly around town, I email the contact information on the press release Grady gave me and make arrangements for my reenlistment.

Present

“WHERE’S JACK?” DONNIE asks, looking around the interior of the car like he’ll find Jack hiding behind the seats. “I thought he was going to go to school with us today?” “He couldn’t make it,” I murmur

absentmindedly. I adjust my sunglasses and peer through the windshield, urging the cars in front of me to creep down the school driveway. Five more minutes and they’re going to be late for the first day back at school. “But he promised!” “Something came up.” Donnie sniffles and my heart trips over itself. Goddamn Jack. “Will he be here to pick us up?” I catch his eye in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think so, buddy, I’m sorry.” “Probably because you guys were arguing the other day.” When I look in his direction, Rafe is staring out the window, his shoulders slumped and his

mouth pulled down in a frown. Pulling up to the drop-off zone, I turn in my seat to look at them. “Or he’s just busy,” I say. “He was always around before you came here,” Rafe retorts. Before I can snap off a response, Rafe jumps from the car and onto the sidewalk. Donnie just gives me this pitiful look and then both boys trot off down the sidewalk. Neither of them look back at me. A horn beeps behind me and I glance back at an impatient soccer mom frowning through my rearview. “All right, all right,” I mutter, pulling away with one last look at my brothers’ retreating backs. Day one as responsible

sister is a complete failure. My new job as a tech analyst for a local private investigations firm pays nowhere near what I used to make at my old job, but the people seem nice, and it has a great insurance plan for the boys. After I drop them off at school, I head over to the office to finish some last minute paperwork and to meet the interdepartmental secretary, Anita. “I sure am glad to get another female in this department,” she says as she gives me a tour of the facilities. She’s around fifty with salt-and-pepper hair and a mile-wide smile. “These boys are great, but they aren’t much for socialization and a lady gets damn crazy without a little chitchat.”

I’m not exactly what you’d call the gal-pal type, but I can’t help the responding smile when she beams up at me. “I don’t know how much good I’ll do with the chit chat, but I can try,” I tell her. She pats my arm as we walk through the break room. “Don’t you worry, child. I’ll do all the talking. All you have to do is listen. Which is more than I can say for any of these fellows.” She gestures around the room at the four or five guys on break. They’re all submersed in their phones or laptops. The only sounds in the room are the humming coming from the appliances or the click-clicking from the laptops. She gives me a raised eyebrow. “See what I mean?”

Laughing, I follow her out of the break room. “Must drive you crazy.” “Well, me, not so much. I could talk to a wall if I had to, but my husband…he likes to say I store up all the chatter just for when I come home. I’m sure he’ll be so happy to hear that I’ve got someone else to talk to during the day.” God, it’s been a long time since I’ve just been able to have polite, easy conversation with someone. Conversation that doesn’t involve the past or even more recently, the present. “Well, I’m happy to help,” I say. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around Nassau before. How long have you lived here?” “Me and my husband, John, we moved here about five years ago to

retire.” She plops down in the big swivel chair behind her desk in the center of the large room that houses all the tech analysts. “We just couldn’t stand the cold weather up north anymore. Too hard on our old joints, the doctor said. John’s family used to live here a while ago, and we used to vacation here when our kids were little.” “It’s pretty here in the summer,” I say. “Damn sure is,” she says with a smile. Leaning close, she adds, “It’s been like a second honeymoon!” We share a laugh. “I think I’m gonna like you,” I tell her. “You’re too sweet. So tell me a little about yourself. What brought you to

Nassau?” Since I haven’t officially started work yet, I don’t for a couple more days, I sit back in the guest seat next to Anita. I don’t have any plans until the boys get out of school, and honestly, the sympathetic ear is welcome. “I used to live here when I was younger. My mom passed away a couple weeks ago and left my two younger brothers. Since my dad died of a heart attack when they were still little, there just wasn’t anyone else to raise them.” “Oh, you poor thing. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She clucks around and offers me a cool can of soda and a homemade lemon square. “You eat this, okay? I bet your brothers sure are a lucky pair to

have a sister like you.” I nibble on the sweet and sip the drink. “I wouldn’t say that. Right now they’re pretty upset with me. I’d like to say it’s just teenage angst, but I wasn’t there for them as much as I should have been.” She waves that away. “I wouldn’t be too worried. Boys are always getting upset about one thing or another. It’ll blow over.” I contemplate the thought over another bite of lemon square. “I guess. I just have no idea what I’m doing. I never planned on having kids and now I have two.” “And teenagers at that, bless your heart. Well if you ever need any advice,

I’m here to help you, sugar. Mine gave me all this white hair so I have plenty of experience.” She gestures to her head of all-white and giggles delicately. “I may take you up on that,” I say. “Feel free. Once you finish that snack there, I’ll show you where your office will be, and we’ll get that paperwork taken care of. While we do that, you can tell me all about your brothers.” A couple hours later, I leave the office feeling, for the first time in longer than I can remember, excited about the future. The job here may not be as lucrative as the one I gave up, but if every day is going to be spent like the one I just had, I could get used to it. I’m

damn near bouncing on my toes as I head down to the employee parking garage. I’m even humming to myself, and I can’t remember the last time I felt relaxed enough to do that. My sweet little car is parked in the spot already affixed with my name. A piece of paper fluttering on the windshield catches my attention and my steps slow, my heart lurching into my throat. With trembling fingers, I reach for the note, nearly dropping it twice before I bring it up to read. The advertisement for car wash services pulls a laugh from my chest. God, I’m getting paranoid. Tossing the advert in my purse, I unlock my car door and slide in. My keys tumble to the

floorboard as I set my purse down in the passenger seat. Cursing, I fold down to get them, scrabbling at the scratchy floorboard until my fingers snag them. I straighten up and jab the keys into the ignition when I look up to see a shadow looming over the driver’s side window. For a second, I think it’s Jack, but this shadow is far too wide to be his lean frame. Fear lodges in my throat as I come face to face with the man whose face haunts my nightmares. He leans down, his scarred lip twisting into a smile that sends shivers down my spine. “Hello, Sofia,” he says. My insides freeze, tensing, and my elbows dig into my ribs as though I can disappear inside myself. I gasp for

breath and when I speak, the words come out in tiny explosions. “Damian. What-what are you doing here? I thought you were in jail.” My ears start to ring and my first thought is of the boys. Oh, God. Their faces flash through my mind. I don’t want to stain them with this. Don’t want them to be faced with such horrors. He chuckles and wedges his body in the open door, crowding my space. I jerk back, though there’s nowhere for me to go. The center console jabs into my back, but I don’t feel anything except the sharp, icy edge of fear. “You know why I’m here, mi cielo. A cage can’t keep us apart and we have unfinished business, you and me.”

The click-clack of heels against the concrete echoes through the parking garage and my panicked eyes dart for the source of the sound automatically. When I recognize Anita, I swallow the automatic scream for help. Damian looks back, his body tensing for a moment while Anita crosses the garage to her late model sedan. “Unfinished business?” I ask, though the words sound weak, even to my ears. Anything to get his attention off of her and back onto me. I couldn’t bear if someone I care about got hurt, and though I just met her, I already consider her a friend. One of the few I have left. For a few tense seconds, I can feel him weighing his options. When he lets her

get into her car and drive off, I let out a heavy breath. He lifts one arm—still as powerful and filled with threatening potential as I remember—and trails a finger over my cheek. My eyes close, my brain filling with thoughts of those hands on other parts of me, his touch just as soft as I remember it can be. A tear breaks through my wavering composure and meets his finger. His body stills and he rubs his finger into the moisture then brings it to his lips. I tremble under his weighted observation. “What are you going to do?” My voice is barely a whisper and I gasp for breath in between each word. I don’t know if I can survive it again.

Just seeing him now, here, is enough to send my heart into overdrive, enough to drown me in adrenaline. My brothers’ faces flash in my mind, and I clench my stomach and press my lips together to stave off the wave of nausea. He leans down, his head now inside the car, close enough for me to smell the mint and coffee on his breath. “Whatever I want,” he growls, threading a hand underneath my prim little bun and forcing my head backward. “You tell that to Jack when you see him. Tell him to stay away from what’s mine or you’ll both regret it.” I choke down a sob, my body now trembling uncontrollably. I manage to nod, feeling my hair tearing at the roots

from his inescapable hold. “I w-will.” He stays there, his eyes roaming over my body like he owns it. And doesn’t he? Didn’t he prove it irrevocably that night? A few minutes pass and they seem to last both an eternity and a millisecond, when he says, “I’ll be seeing you around, Sofie. Real soon. Remember to tell Jack what I said.” Tears blur his retreating back before he disappears altogether around a corner. The trembling intensifies until I collapse into a pile of unrelenting convulsions and dry heaves. Apart from the single tear he stole, I don’t cry, though it’s not for my body’s lack of trying. I’m almost certain he stole all my

tears the night he took everything else away from me. An hour later, I pull up to the school having finally regained some measure of self-control. I jam my sunglasses back on my face in spite of the weather turning overcast. Rafe and Donnie don’t need to see my bloodshot eyes and red, puffy cheeks. My fingers grip the steering wheel a little too tight and I can’t quite get my stomach to settle, but I put on a happy face for my brothers, even if it pulls around the edges. They dive into the car, bringing with them the scent of sweat and feet—must be a teenage boy thing—still dressed in their basketball uniforms and sweating profusely from practice.

“Don’t get on my side,” Rafe growls, buckling in. “I’m sick of you getting in my space dude. You do it on the court, you do it at home.” He heaves a frustrated breath. “God, I can’t wait to get out of here.” Donnie wilts a little, and I notice he takes extra care not to cross the center of the backseat. He stares out the window to cover his hurt, his eyes bright. “Hey, guys,” I say with false cheerfulness. They both grunt, neither looking up. Sighing, I give up, waiting for my turn to pull out of the car pool and onto the main street that will feed out onto the highway. My phone vibrates, and I check it absently, a text from Livvie managing

to pull a genuine smile to my lips. Livvie: Did I tell you Hank got the neighbors’ Jack Russell Terrier pregnant? They just called to let us know the last puppy is available for adoption if we want it. I’m having the hardest time convincing Ben and Cole we don’t need the last one. Save me!!!!!!

I peer at my sullen brothers in the backseat and make an impulsive decision. Ten minutes later, I pull up to Livvie’s house. “What are we doing here?” Rafe asks. “I’m hungry and I want to go home.” “You’ll see,” I respond, unbuckling and swinging out of the front seat. I think

I need this as much as they do. Hank, the proud father, a smushfaced Boston Terrier whose whiter in the face now than black, struts up to us and winds around my legs. I squat down to scratch behind his ears. “Hey, handsome.” Livvie appears on the porch. “Thank God, you’re here,” she says, holding a squirming mass of fur in her arms. “They were about to riot.” “What’s that?” Donnie asks, coming to stand beside me. I turn to him, glancing at Rafe, who is now at full attention, and say, “We’re picking up our puppy.” The boys’ attention snaps to me and for a moment they’re absolutely stunned

silent. By this time Livvie’s reached the bottom step and placed the exuberant puppy on the ground. It bounds toward us at full speed and by the time it reaches us, Rafe and Donny are bending down and loving on it with excited sounds that remind me more of kids than two surly teenagers. Cole squeals and bounds down the stairs to join them, the three of them sporting matching smiles. As I watch them, I soak in the scene and try to forget about everything else.

Present

I KEEP MOST of my tools and a hell of a lot of materials from Dad’s various remodels throughout the years in Ben and Livvie’s shed. Mostly because there’s no-fucking-where to store them at the gym and no point in keeping them

now that I’ve set the ball in motion for reenlistment. There’ll be a bit of a waiting period while I finalize things with the gym and get paperwork and class dates settled with the Corps, then I’ll be outta here. But until then, I have promises to keep. And I’ll damn well keep them if it’s the last thing I do, even if it’s just to make a point. Or shove my indifference in her face. Part of me wants to see her face when I drive up. See if it shocks her that my balls are big enough to confront her after her confession. Part of me wants to see if there’ll be a chink in her armor now, something, anything that will let me see through this act she’s got going on.

But most of me just wants to punish her for it. And that’s the part of me that scares me the most. “What are you doing out here so early?” Livvie calls from the porch, clutching an oversized coffee cup between two palms. It’s barely dawn. The sky hasn’t even lightened with the rising sun yet. She flicks on the porch light, flooding the lawn with its yellow glow. I shoulder the planks of wood and wipe the beads of sweat clouding my vision with my free hand. “Got some work to do on Sofie’s house.” A smile curls behind the lip of the coffee cup. “Is that so?” Tossing the wood in the back of the

truck, I say, “Stop. I’m not in the mood for that shit Livvie. This isn’t a goddamn dating game.” “Sure, sure,” she says, still smiling. “Because the ass crack of dawn is when most people like to get up and do some handiwork for random people.” I lift another set of planks and glare at her. “Or maybe some people work for a living and only have so much spare time.” Her smile dies and I feel a hollow pang of guilt. “The hell’s wrong with you?” she asks, coming down the porch steps. When I don’t answer, she grips my shoulder, forcing me to face her even though the weight of four planks makes the movement cumbersome. “Hey,” she

says, all joking aside. “What’s going on?” I shift the weight of the planks. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.” “Well, I’m pretty sure it comes naturally to you, but that’s not it. Something’s up.” “Not my business to talk about, Liv. I’m not really in the mood for share and tell.” I skirt her inquiring gaze and drop the last load into the truck bed. I flip up the door and get to the driver’s side, but Livvie meets me there, her brow furrowed. “Is there something I should know?” she asks carefully. There’s a skitter of tension underneath her voice and the big brother in me

automatically ruffles her hair to knock it away. “No, I’m just in a mood is all.” “Are you sure? Is there something I can do to help?” “No.” Nothing she can do anyway. “Day of blood and sweat should make it all go away.” Livvie grimaces. “Guys are so weird. I bet a million bucks you’d feel so much better if you opted for a manipedi and a massage.” “Maybe next time.” I steal a sip of her coffee and make a face as the overlysweet taste hits my tongue. “That’s what you get for stealing,” Livvie says. Nudging her shoulder, I step up into

the truck. “I’ll see you later.” I’m nearly to Sofie’s house when I realize I forgot my copy of her house key on my kitchen counter. I’d taken it off of my key ring in a fit of rage after the last time I was there and tossed it. Cursing myself, my temper flaring, I flip a bitch and head back to the gym. Friday mornings aren’t usually all that busy, but there are a couple cars in the lot. I stride into the gym, glancing around at the workout area and see a couple guys on the machines and one in the ring. Not paying much attention to them, I climb the stairs to the attic I converted into a little apartment. It’s not much, just a studio with a futon that doubles as my bed, a

kitchenette I’ve never actually used aside from nuking the occasional plate of take-out, and a stall shower with a sink. The only other thing in the place besides the bare essentials is a dresser and a big-screen T.V. All of my worldly possessions could fit in the duffle bag I’ve got stored in the only closet. I grab the key from the counter and fly back down the stairs. I skim over the gym again by rote and do a double take when I recognize the guy sparring in the ring. When I was stationed in Iraq and shit was going down, time would speed up. Life-threatening decisions were made on the fly, with only seconds to consider the options at hand. But now, when I look at

the man who stole my future, time slows down. I rub a hand across the itch on my neck and roll my shoulders to dispel the tension coiling there. He doesn’t notice me, doesn’t look up from his opponent, and I’m glad for it because I’m not sure what I’d do if he did. He’s a friend, well, he was a friend. A guy I used to spar with, hang out with. The thought of him with his hands on Sofie sends a flash of red over my vision. I stand there for a few more minutes, frozen, until a group of trainees nudges me aside. Tearing my gaze away from him, I force one foot in front of the other until I’m inside my truck and pulling out of the parking lot.

“Jack!” Donnie shrieks, jumping from the car and racing across the front yard. “Wait until you see what Sofie got us!” I drop the board I’d just yanked from the porch on top of the pile of rotten wood and wipe the sweat dripping from my forehead. “Hey, Donnie-boy. Careful there, these still have nails in them.” I hold up a hand and ward him away from the woodpile. “What’d your sister get you?” Rafe ambles up with a rare smile, his arms full of squirming puppy. “We got a dog!”

Scratching it’s ears, I say, “I see that. Awesome, guys.” “Isn’t he cute?” Donnie asks. “He’s a she,” Sofie corrects, coming up to lay a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. She turns her attention to the boys. “Why don’t you guys take her to the back yard and see if she needs to use the bathroom?” “She means she wants to talk to Jack in private,” Rafe says. “Backyard,” Sofie replies firmly. The boys laugh and disappear into the house. I turn to Sofie, passing the hammer from hand to hand. “What is it, Sof? I’ve got stuff to do here.” She tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought we’d come to

the agreement that you didn’t need to do this.” I turn and grab a handful of nails and line up the new board. “I didn’t say that.” “It was implied,” she says. “There’s no need for you to fix everything around here.” “I promised your mom,” I respond. “And I’m sure she’d appreciate it, but I’m also sure there are other things you could be doing with your time. You don’t owe me any favors and I can take care of myself.” “And the boys.” “And the boys,” she adds. I hammer the nails into place while I chew on my response. “No matter what’s

between us, I’m gonna handle my promises.” She switches her purse from one shoulder to the other. “I know. I’m just trying to give you an out here, you know?” “I’m a grown man. I don’t need an out.” “Fine,” she says and walks away. I have the briefest desire to grab her by the arm, to demand an explanation, but I shake it off, focusing on the board in my hands. For the next three hours, I rip out rotten boards from the porch and replace them with new ones. By the time the sun starts to set over the trees, I’ve nearly finished the entire south side of the

wraparound, and I’m covered in sweat and sawdust. I stripped my shirt off a while back and I have the twinge from sunburn for my efforts. She’d opened the front windows to let in the fresh air. I don’t blame her. It’s a beautiful day. There’s a gentle breeze stirring the scents of pine and freshly cut grass. But I’m more interested in the things inside the house than the pleasant weather. The boys bring the dog inside, a stampede of sneakers squeaking against the floor and cheerful barks. They stomp through the house to the living room and settle beneath one of the open windows. “What should we name her?” I hear Donnie ask.

I uncap a bottle of lukewarm water and chug, taking a seat on one of the new steps to rest, but mostly just to listen to them. To torture myself with all the things that could have been mine, but aren’t. “Terminator?” Rafe suggests. I muffle my choked laughter in my forearm. God, that kid. If Sofie were a boy, she’d have turned out exactly like him. Stubborn, quick-to-anger, and loyal to the bone. I guess that’s the rub, then. She was supposed to be one of the people I could count on. The one person I’d have bet would be there for me through everything. As if she knows I’m there, thinking about her and, damn it, missing her, she

says, “You’re such a dork.” My stomach clenches. How many times had she said exactly those words to me over the years? “How about Rosie?” Donnie says quietly. I hang my head recognizing the naked longing in his voice. Their mother’s middle name was Rose. A tense silence descends, broken by the cheerful yaps from the puppy. Then the floorboards creak as someone crosses the room. Sofie says, just as softly, “That’s a good name, Donnie. I like that.” “Yeah?” Rafe clears his throat, barks out a laugh. “Still think Terminator would be

better, but Rosie will work. Huh, girl? You like that?” “Dinner’s almost ready. I’m going to go check on Jack while you guys wash up.” “You should invite him to dinner!” Donnie chimes in. “Aren’t you just full of suggestions,” Sofie says. “I’ll go ask him.” I lurch to my feet and grab the hammer to make myself look busy. Rafe rounds the corner, Sofie following close behind. “Hey, Jack. Sofie’s making dinner. You should stay. It’s only fair since he fixed the porch and all,” he throws over his shoulder at Sofie, who tugs her thin

jacket around her shoulders against the nonexistent chill. I hitch my hip against the railing. “Not sure that’s such a good idea, bud.” Rafe frowns. “We’ve got plenty of food. You used to come over all the time. Did we do something wrong? We aren’t sick anymore.” Ah, man. I rub at the ache in my chest and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just think it’s important you spend time with your sister is all.” He stares up at me, his brown eyes wide. “We can spend time with both of you. Besides, it’s mom’s famous spaghetti. You love her spaghetti.” I peer up at Sofie. “Did she make

it?” “Hey,” Sofie says. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “We helped. Made sure she didn’t burn anything,” Donnie offers. I glance at Sofie. She catches my eye, but only for a second. She’s pale beneath the color of her olive skin, and she must have wiped away all of her makeup because I can see dark circles beneath her eyes. Concern wars with the lingering anger and ten years of loving her wins out. Looking down at Donnie, I ruffle his hair. “Sure, kid. Let’s go make the table.” Sofie stops me with a hand on my arm. “Jack—” “Don’t,” I say sharply. “Dinner and

then I’ll be gone.” Her fingers fall limply to her side. “Fine,” she says, but the words lack her usual fight. My eyes follow her as she brushes past, a furrow wedging between my brows. What the hell? I finish tossing the rest of the old boards onto a pile and load them in the back of my truck. After I store my tools in the toolbox, I tug on a relatively clean shirt from the backseat and head inside. The scent of garlic and tomato sauce on the air isn’t tinged with anything charred, so that’s a good sign. I follow the wriggly puppy down the hall and into the kitchen. The boys are setting the table and Sofie is stirring a steaming pot

on the stove. I stop in the doorway, clutching the frame as my dreams of our future and this picture-perfect present collide. “Can I have some more dressing for my salad?” One of the kids asks. I’m too busy staring at Sofie’s ass as she bends to take out the garlic bread to notice which or what she says in response. Staying is a bad idea. I start to offer an excuse, but Rafe shouts, “Jack, come sit by me!” and I find myself serving up pasta to both boys and filling my own plate with salad and spaghetti with Sofie right in front of me. The rest of dinner passes in a flurry of conversation where Sofie scolds the boys for feeding the dog from the table,

they rattle on about their day at school, and Sofie tells them about her new job at work. I try to join in when they ask me questions, but for the most part I just sit back and watch them. Soon dinner is over and the boys clean the table then race off to fight over the T.V., leaving Sofie and I alone in the kitchen with tension as thick as the history between us. She gets to her feet with a stack of dishes in her hands, the silverware rattles as her fingers tremble. I get to my feet and take the plates from her, noting her sharp inhalation when I move closer. In spite of the mistakes she’d made ten years ago, she’d still been my best friend. Placing the plates in the sink full

of soapy water, I turn to find her leaning against the kitchen table, her fingers gripping the edge. “What’s going on with you?” She wraps her arms around her waist. “Nothing. Just wondering why you’re here is all.” “Yeah, so am I.” After all this time. What the hell am I still doing here? “I don’t think you should come back,” she says. “And why’s that?” “I just don’t think it’s good for the boys.” She tries to meet my eyes, but she can’t, her gaze darting up and over my shoulder and then back down to the floor. I scoff. “How would you know

what’s good for the boys?” “It’s my job now to know those things, Jack.” She gulps down a breath. “I’m the one with custody. You aren’t their father. This pretend family thing isn’t good for them. It gives them the wrong idea.” “You mean it gives me the wrong idea,” I correct. She pushes off from the table. “That’s not what I meant.” “Of course it’s what you meant. It’s what you said.” Pressing a hand against her forehead she says, “Jack, you’re twisting this around.” “No,” I reply. “No, I don’t think I am. If anything, I’m finally seeing things

clearly for the first time in a long time.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You slept with one of my friends, Sofie.” She flinches, her face flashing white, but I brush that to the side. “I was gonna marry you. Give you everything. I can’t even—fuck, I can’t even wrap my mind around it. So yeah, dinner was a mistake.” I toss the dishrag onto the counter with a wet plop and stride to the hall. With one last glance back, I say, “This was a mistake.” She sucks in a deep breath, but over that, over the sound of our past crumbling, I hear a gasp from the hallway and my heart sinks. I turn and find Donnie standing there, his arms full of a squirming Rosie. His mouth is

gaping open, his lips trembling. He squeezes the dog closer to his chest and breathes heavily. Rafe comes up behind him, his brows furrowed just like his sister’s. “What’s the deal, dude? I thought we were gonna race.” Donnie spins and shoves past his brother, dumping the puppy on the floor. His footsteps thunder up the stairs, punctuated by the slamming of his bedroom door. I start to go after him, but Sofie rushes by and grabs me by the arm. “Don’t,” she says. She moves around me to stand by Rafe, who looks up at me with a frown. “I’ll handle it.” I don’t give myself the luxury of

second guessing my decision, I just walk out the door. And it’s both the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Present

THE BOYS KNOW I’ve been crying, but they don’t say anything. For the first time since I moved back in with them, they’re silent, almost concerned. They wake up before me and have a pot of coffee ready by the time I come downstairs the

morning after Jack left—this time for good, it seems. I should feel relieved, knowing that he’s safe from whatever sinister fantasies Damian has planned, but all that’s left inside me is hollow. My chest cavity is scraped raw. It hurts to do simple tasks like breathing. Even sipping the cup of oversweet coffee is almost too much for my system. I have to clamp down on the rise of bile in my throat and paste on a wobbly smile for the boys expectant faces. “Thanks, guys,” I manage, despite my raw throat. “Why don’t we do something today? There’s a new skating ramp at the park?” “You gonna skate?” Rafe asks, his

face hopeful. It manages to pull a weak laugh from the cavern of my chest. “Sure, you would love that, wouldn’t you?” “I’ll teach you,” Donnie says, already jamming his feet into his sneakers. “I think I’ll need more than one cup of coffee,” I reply wryly. Even though it’s a cool seventy degrees outside—which is mild weather for a sunny Florida morning, I wrap myself in a thin cardigan. Try as I might, I can’t seem to stop shivering, even with the sun as bright as it is. The boys erupt from the car the second we get to the park, their cheerful shouts buoying my rapidly sinking mood.

Jack’s gym is only a couple blocks away and I sense its presence like a malignant tumor and a beacon. Both a reminder of the darkness there and a siren call to the man I’ve finally successfully kicked and shoved away. Blowing out a heavy, steady breath I remind myself it’s for the best. Then and now, to protect him. This aching, empty chasm is worth it. Or so I hope. I find a perch on the bleachers to watch over Rafe and Donnie as they scale the newly built skate park. Wincing, I try not to come to their aid as they crash into the unforgiving concrete repeatedly. Then I catch myself and I have to laugh, because I’m starting to

sound like my mother, even if it’s just in my head. Wrapping the cardigan more securely around my middle, I turn into the sun, hoping it will warm me from the outside in. I knew coming back to Nassau would stir everything up and I was right. All the feelings, all the memories, all the regrets I’d smothered deep inside of me were coming back, determined to bubble up to the surface like a geyser. Maybe it’s fate. Maybe that’s the purpose of secrets. To be discovered. Like a bomb’s only end is to detonate, leaving everything in its wake torn to pieces, just like secrets. Or lies. I wonder as I watch the boys

navigate the maze of ramps and rails, if the bigger the secret, the bigger the resulting fallout. I’m almost to the point where I want to pull the pin and see what happens when I do. The pressure building up inside of me is almost too much for even my walls to bear. “Hey, Sofie, a couple of our friends want to hang out today, if that’s okay.” Rafe jogs up and hops onto the bleacher seat by my side. “Sure, that’ll be fine. Do you need me to drop you off?” He swipes a hand over his forehead, his hair resettling around his eyes. “Nah, that’s okay. They’ve got a car. You can just pick us up at their house later.” He

pauses, weighing his words. “I figured you could use some time alone, anyway.” My hand lifts and lands on his shoulder of its own accord, surprising us both. Warm affection flares in my chest at his compassion. The first tender growth of connection we should have cultivated years ago—I should have cultivated—takes root. Emotion clogs my throat. “Sure, yeah, okay.” “We can stay if you want to, I dunno, hang out or something.” He makes a face, ever the teenager, and I find myself laughing. “No that’s okay. I don’t need a babysitter. You guys go have fun. Just not too much.”

He grins, throwing an arm around my waist and squeezing tight for a few packed seconds, bridging the gap between my years of absence, then he releases and jogs off to join a group of boys in the parking lot. I wave them off and head back to my car. Maybe I’ll do some freelance work when I get home to take my mind off of everything else. I’ve got a couple security clients on the side, some design work. I’ve lived frugally over the years, save for my penchant for good wine and expensive shoes, so I don’t really need the money. The simple, mind numbing tasks would keep my thoughts and hands busy—something I desperately need. I’m pulling up the plans for the

website I plan to work on as I cross the parking lot to the shaded area where I parked my car, so it takes me a moment to recognize the piece of flapping paper on my windshield. My knees lock and my heart makes the tremulous leap into my throat, lodging there and stealing my breath. I have to force myself to take the remaining steps to my car. I’m being stupid. On edge. It’s just another one of those advertisements. But no matter how much I repeat those sentiments, the weighted feeling in my stomach grows heavier with each step. The paper is face down, pinned by the wiper blade. My fingers don’t tremble when I reach to free it, but they do fumble with releasing the blade,

having grown thick and clumsy. The first thing I notice is the paper is thick, definitely not the flimsy sort they use for ad circulars, but it’s also not the printer type from a home computer. Damian’s preference. The paper is more substantial and glossy. A picture. I flip it over, nearly dropping it to the muddy ground in my haste. As it comes into focus, I hear soft, plaintive whimpers, like an injured animal. It takes me a few seconds to realize the mournful sound is coming from me, reverberating through my empty-feeling chest. I recognize Jack’s body first—I’d recognize it anywhere. He’s naked from

the waist up, a sheen of sweat coating his muscular chest and another of dust coating his jeans. He’s leaning against the rails with two-by-fours at his feet and tools scattered on the ground. The picture must have been taken yesterday. It takes a few stunned minutes for my brain to wrap around the meaning of the picture. Jack’s face has been circled, angrily, sloppily, by thick pungent permanent marker and then scratched out like one would scratch off a lottery ticket. My stomach plummets and I dive into my car without thinking. My tires squeal and gravel crunches, spinning out, bulleting the tin building behind me until they gain traction and I swerve onto the

deserted street. I barely remember making it to the gym. Leaving the park, the drive over, and finding a parking spot is all a blur. The walk up to the door is arduous, my legs nearly unmoving. The chills return with full force and by the time I get to the front door, I’m coated in a cold sweat. I swipe furiously at my forehead with shaking fingers and it takes two tries before I can grab hold of the doorknob to yank it open. Oh God. I nearly lose the two cups of coffee on the lobby floor the second I step through the doors. The smell. God. It smells just like my nightmares. I breathe deeply through my mouth,

but it barely helps. My fingers clench around the picture I still hold in my hands, the sides cutting into the flesh of my palm. I focus on the sharp bite of pain and it centers me, brings me from the edge of panic. Knees still watery, I walk to the double doors and see through the picture windows to the guys practicing on the other side. I almost expect to see Damian in the ring or leaning against the wall on the far side. I can almost feel him behind me waiting to pounce. A furtive glance over my shoulder shows only the empty lobby. With my free hand, I grab the handle and pull it open, the grunts of a punch hitting home and the squeak of sneakers

against the mat wash over me. White settles over my vision and I press my back against the door to keep myself upright. When the ringing in my ears subsides, and the white spots recede, Jack’s face swims into view. At first, I think I’m seeing things, recalling memories of the times we spent here. I reach out to touch him and my hand jerks back when it meets the warm skin of his cheek. Hands on my shoulders shake me gently. “Sofie,” he says. Then again, firmly. “Sofie.” “Jack,” I whisper as the visions of past and present collide. “The boys. Tell me now. Are the

boys okay?” He looks over my shoulder for them, then back in my eyes. His hold on my shoulders grows vise-like and he pulls me closer. “Goddammit, Sofie. Are they okay?” I shake my head, my frantic thoughts rattling around. “They’re fine, I’m sorry, they’re fine.” He lets out a breath. “You look like you’re about to pass out. What the hell is going on?” I remember the photo, Damian’s threats. My eyes bulge and my hands grip his wrists, then map his face, his shoulders. They travel down his chest to grip the T-shirt hanging around his waist. Safe. He’s safe. I bow my head, resting it on his shoulder.

He’s safe. My feet are moving. I hear voices, then a door opening and closing. Beneath my arms, Jack’s muscles bunch and release. He tries to move away, but I cling to the material of his shirt and he murmurs. I don’t quite make out the words, but they’re comforting enough for me to release my grip. He moves away, and I hear sounds, then footsteps as he returns. “Here,” he says. “Drink this.” He pushes one of those cone-shaped cups from the water dispenser into my hands and brings it to my lips. I swallow obediently, my vision focusing and my mind clearing thanks to the cool, crisp water and his direct observation.

As I come back to myself, my cheeks flush and I look down at my feet under his stare. Oh God. What do I do now? How do I explain this? I glance at the door, but Jack gets to his knees in front of me, bracketing my legs and hips with his arms and hands, wedging his chest between my legs and bringing us face to face while invading my space and making sure I won’t be going anywhere. “You’re gonna tell me what the hell is going on,” he demands.

Present

MY HEART THUNDERS in my chest and my ears and neck are hot. She glances at the door again, and I snap, “Look at me,” and her wide eyes lock with mine. “I’m done playing these games. Done with your excuses. Tell me why you ran in

here looking like someone died. You said the boys are okay. What the fuck is going on?” Her shoulders shudder with a broken inhale as her gaze falls. It’s a fucking wonder, but I watch her shore up her walls. She straightens her spine, squares her shoulders. If I could see her face, I imagine she’d wipe it clean of expression, maybe twist on a scowl or a glare. Her eyes would be blank, nearly dead of emotion. But recognizing it for what it is, I bring one hand to her jaw before she’s finished the routine and catch her panicked expression. I’ve seen enough men cornered to recognize the desperation I see in her eyes. What

would make her so afraid? My first instinct is to protect her, even after the betrayal and abandonment, and I curse her and myself for it. I lock my arms beside her thighs to keep from cradling her into my lap. “Get your hands off me,” she snarls. My simple “no” makes her nose flare in indignation. Her hips wriggle, but I’m bigger and stronger. She’s not getting out of this unless I want her to. She switches tactics. “I’m sorry, I don’t have an explanation. I just thought you were in trouble. Freaked myself out about it.” “So you come running here after you just kicked me out? That doesn’t make sense, babe. Try again.”

“Fuck you. Let me go.” “I told you, not until you tell me what the fuck is going on.” “You mean, why did I come here, or why did I leave you?” If she could put her hands on her hips she would. “Because we both know the reason you’re so interested is because I left you.” I shrug. “That’s not news. What I want to know now is why you’re as white as a fucking ghost and lying about it.” “Everything is—” “Keep lying to me, Sofie, and you’re going to piss me off.” “You’re already pissed off.” “I’m irritated, and I can get pissed

off real quick if you want, but that’s not going to make me less interested in what you’re doing here.” She trembles underneath my palms. “Just let it go,” she pleads. “Please.” Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “I don’t think I will this time. I let it go when you left me. When you kept leaving me. When you pushed me away. I don’t think I will now.” She growls. “Is this because you found out I fucked someone else? Some twisted need to reclaim your territory. If it is, I’m not interested.” “Stop trying to dodge the question. What are you so afraid of?” The last part I direct more towards myself. What would cause her to come flying into the

gym like a bat outta hell? I know it isn’t the boys, she said so herself. If it were Livvie or Cole she would have gone straight there. The only reason why she’d come here is if she were worried about me. I look back at her and she looks away. Bingo. But why would she think something had happened to me? My fingers bite into her hips, my frustration growing. What the fuck had her so afraid she thought I was in danger? She’s one of the strongest people I know, so it would have to be something life or death. Something that would send her back to me, even though we’d been arguing.

“Is someone…” I clear my throat, unable to say the words. “Is something, someone bothering you?” “No,” she says, a beat too quickly. Her gaze falters and her shoulders jerk. “Don’t,” I force myself to take a breath, then I say through my teeth, “Don’t lie to me.” “I’m not lying to you.” “Well you’re sure as hell not telling the truth.” I pause, considering. “Makes me wonder what else you’ve been lying about.” Her face drains of color and she vibrates beneath my hands. Her lips are white and pulled thin when she says, “I asked you to let me go.” “I’m not gonna do it so forget it.” I

get to my feet and settle on the couch next to her, making sure to put myself pointedly between her and the door. “We can stay here all day.” “Maybe you can, but I’ve got to get back to the boys.” “I’ll take care of them. Ben can pick them up.” “Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell you we aren’t your problem anymore?” I move in close, until she inches backward on the couch and hits the arm and can go no farther. Pinning her beneath me, I catch her gaze and say, “Until you mean it.” She sucks in a breath. “Please.” “Tell me,” I order.

She shakes her head, turning away from me. “C’mon, baby. Just get it out. Tell me.” “I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” “You’re going to hate me.” An ache starts in my gut, pulsing and white-hot. “No, I won’t.” “You already hate me.” “No, I don’t.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “Yes, you do. You didn’t see the look on your face when you saw that letter. You hated me right then.” My brows furrow. “I didn’t hate you. I was mad at you. Madder than I’ve ever been, but I could never hate you.”

“If you didn’t then, you’re sure going to now.” I pull her into my lap, draping her stiff limbs over my legs and tucking her face into my neck. The words pour out of me, drawn by her tears and her fear and the constant need to keep her here, close to me. Where she belongs. No matter what. “There’s nothing you could ever do to make me hate you, Sofie. I’ve loved you my whole life and I don’t expect I’ll ever stop.” “You wouldn’t say that if you knew,” she whispers brokenly. “Try me.” “I slept with Damian,” she says, followed by a pregnant pause. “But I didn’t want to.” She can barely get the

words out and when she does, they’re so quiet I have to strain to hear them. My breaths start coming more quickly and my arms vise around her. “You didn’t want to?” I repeat. “He attacked me that day when I came back from New Orleans.” Her head drops forward, her dark hair curtaining her face. Behind, I hear her sniffle and it makes me pull her closer. “It wasn’t consensual?” She shudders. “I tried to fight him, but he had a knife.” Nausea is a greasy roll in my stomach, but I force myself to stay calm, even though my control is paper thin at best. “Start from the beginning.” “I don’t really want to talk about it. I

don’t even want to think about it.” “You’ve pushed it down for so long, you need to talk. I’m just going to listen. I’m right here. Let it out.” “I left the gym to go home and change. He must have let the air out of one of my tires because I had a flat when I came out and he offered to help me change it. I thought, you know, he’s your friend. I thought I was safe with him.” “What did he do?” She swallows audibly. “I went to pop the trunk for the spare and he came up behind me, dragged me to the back of the gym and through the back door.” She pauses and I rub her shoulders, down her arm. “There was a storage room down that hall, one that was full of old mats

and equipment. He pushed me down on them and…” “He raped you,” I say. She nods into my throat. I sense there’s more to the story, but I don’t push her about it anymore, also sensing she’s had enough, more than enough. Her muscles twitch beneath my hands and she’s gone limp against my chest. “What made you come here today?” “Jack, please, I don’t—” “Last thing, baby, you can do it. Then we’ll take you home, get you cleaned up.” Her fingers clutch at the thin jacket she’s wearing, tugging it more securely around her waist. “He’s here. In town.” Fucking bastard. No wonder he

looked so goddamned smug. My arms tighten around her slim body for a second, then I force them to relax. “Has he done something since you’ve been back? He’s been harassing you this whole time?” “No,” she hurries to clarify, “no. He hasn’t bothered me since…since that night. I think he was in jail. He just wrote me…letters.” I fill in the blanks. “That’s what you were so fired up to get from your mom’s. Letters he’d written?” “He sent the first one the day after. I found it on my car when I…when I went back for it. The next time he gave it to Rafe, though he doesn’t remember that now, thank God. That’s when I knew I

had to leave. I didn’t want him near my family, Jack. I didn’t want his ugliness to touch them, too. He found out where I lived in college, it freaked my roommates out so I had to move. He always knew where I was. I didn’t know what to do. When I came back every now and then to check in, see the boys or Livvie, I’d leave the letters at Mom’s because I wasn’t sure what else to do with them.” “God, Sofie.” All this time. All this time and she’d been terrified of a man who I thought was my friend. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice almost nonexistent. Forcing myself to keep my touch gentle and my voice level, I say, “You

don’t have anything to be sorry about.” “I should have told you sooner. Should have gotten help.” I tip up her chin and look into her watery eyes. “You did what you had to do. I don’t doubt that at all.” There’s a moment there where she looks up at me and it’s like she wants me to kiss her and I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life. But it’s not the right time, couldn’t make a worse time if I try, so I lift her to her feet. “Let’s get you home,” I say. “Jack, there’s more—” she starts, but I cut her off. “Later. You’ve had enough for now.” And I don’t know if I’m capable of handling more without hunting down the

man himself and taking vengeance into my own hands.

Present

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Rafe asks as he climbs into Jack’s truck. Jack had called their friend’s mom on the way from the gym to let them know we’d be by early to pick them up. “We need to have a chat, is all.

Donnie, why don’t you hop in? We’ll pick up a pizza before we go to your house.” The boys eye him warily, frowning when they find me nearly in the fetal position in the front seat. Such a good impression to make on them. Good job, Sof. You’re a hell of a role model. Wait until the social workers hear about this. Donnie surprises us all when he stands resolutely on the sidewalk, a frown pulling at his lips. “No. What’s going on with Sofie?” His eyes brush over my face and I glance away, not wanting him to see the bits of emotion remaining in my eyes. I must not do a good enough job because he nearly

growls. “Did you make her cry again?” We all look at him in shock. “Did you?” he repeats. “He didn’t make me cry.” “Then why are your eyes all red again?” he asks. “Well, okay, I was crying, but it doesn’t have to do with him.” Not really. Donnie shoots Jack a furious glance. “All you do when he’s around is get upset.” He tugs his jacket more securely around his shoulders. “Look—” Jack begins. “No. Sofie’s been real nice to us and we want her to stay. If you keep yelling at her, you’re going to make her go away again.” His little chest is heaving at the

end of his tirade. Jack and I share a glance. “He didn’t make me upset. It’s a long story, one I’ll explain. Later.” I cut off my explanation when Jack puts a hand on my arm. “Look,” he says again to Donnie, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. It was out of line and I didn’t mean it.” Donnie’s lip quivers. “You always told us that real men were nice to women. What you said to her wasn’t very nice.” “I know. I was angry and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I can’t apologize enough for that, but I’d like to have the opportunity to make it up to you.” He directs the next part to me. “To all of

you.” I nod at him, then say to Donnie and Rafe, “I know I haven’t been the best sister and having me back in your lives hasn’t been the easiest thing to adjust to, but I want to keep trying. I want to be here for you. To be a family. Jack and I have our own issues we have to work through, but from now on they won’t touch either of you. That’s a promise.” Rafe glances between the two of us. “Did something happen?” “We just want the best for you guys, that’s all. So what do you say?” Donnie pauses, then gets in the truck and buckles up. “Can we have sausage on the pizza?” A weight lifts from my chest and I

reach into the back seat to pull their necks to me for a brief hug. “I don’t know what I ever did without you guys.” “I’m sure you were miserable,” Rafe says. “We’re awesome.” A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “Yes you are,” I say. It won’t repair all the damage, but it’s a start. For both me and the boys and me and Jack. I glance at him as he pulls away from the curb. Without turning, he places a hand on my knee. My eyes flicker down to it resting against my thigh. It’s been a long time since I had a man’s hands on me and felt…anything. Warmth furrows through my jeans and heats me from the inside out, just from one small point of

contact. He squeezes and I meet his eyes. “We’ll talk more later,” he says. “For now, just relax for God’s sake and let me take care of you for a while.” “I don’t know about that, I think we both had enough when the boys and I were sick, but we can maybe have that truce you wanted. Be friends, or try to.” His eyes deepen, turning dark green. “We’ll talk about that, too.” My response clogs in my throat and all I can manage in response is a nod. I watch the scenery blur in the window and cover his hand with my own. It’s big, bigger than I remember, and worn rough from years of hard work in the Marines and at the gym. After a few seconds, he releases his hold on my

thigh and surprises us both by turning his hand over to hold mine. When he stops at a stop light, he leans across the center console and kisses me on the forehead. There’s no heat behind it—at least not right now— and my eyes flutter closed. I didn’t realize how much I missed his touch, missed him, until I let him close. Let him in. Now that he’s wormed his way past my defenses, I have the feeling he’s not going to let me go as easily this time. At least, not without a fight. And I don’t know if the turmoil in my stomach is from excitement or fear. The three of them must be in cahoots because they spend the next three hours

using a variety of tactics to blot out the dark cloud over my head. I chuck a piece of sausage from my pizza at Rafe’s head. He turns and lifts an eyebrow. “What the hell was that for?” Jack smacks him across the head. “Don’t say hell.” Rafe rubs his head still looking at me. “Are you tryin’ to start a food fight, sis?” My belly warms. “Not a chance. I clean up after you brats all day. There’s no way I want to make my job harder.” “Then what’s the deal?” I shrug, smiling. “Just felt like it.” Rafe laughs and tosses the piece of sausage back up at me. I catch it mid-air and grin at him before tossing it in the

empty pizza box. “You look just like Mom when you do that,” he says. I freeze on the couch, my back leaning up against Jack’s chest, his arm swung over the back. Rafe sits at my feet on the other end and Donnie is laying on the floor. He also freezes mid-laughter, looking up at us. “What do you mean?” I manage when I’ve caught my breath. “You’ve got her smile,” he says with a lift of his shoulders. “She always used to say you did, I remember Dad saying it, but I didn’t see it until now.” My smile dies and I gulp around the knot in my throat. “I should have been here,” I tell him, ignoring the comedy we

ordered to go with the junk food. “I’m sorry I wasn’t.” “She missed you a lot,” he says, taking a bite of pizza. “I think she understood why you left, even if we didn’t.” The room narrows and I force myself to breathe through the weight pressing in on my chest. “The reason I left—” “Sofie,” Jack starts, but I wave him off. “The reason I left,” I say, more steadily this time, “was because someone hurt me and I was afraid to stay here. In Nassau. I was afraid he’d come back. Hurt one of you guys.” Sitting up, I fold my legs under me and bring a hand to Rafe’s cheek. “It was never anything

either of you did.” I look at Donnie to make sure he understands I include him, too. “It was me. I was scared. A coward.” “You’re not a coward,” Jack says. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Even though it hurt your mom when you left, she knew you loved her.” “She told us about you all the time,” Donnie says, scooting up to lay his hand on top of mine. I turn mine over and squeeze his, tears blurring my vision. I wipe a hand over my eyes. “Okay, I didn’t mean for this to turn into another waterworks session so let’s just finish the movie.” Donnie presses play on the controller, but he doesn’t let go of my

hand for the rest of the movie. Rafe pulls my feet onto his lap and Jack wraps an arm around my waist. I give in to the comfort of his touch and tuck my head into his shirt, inhaling his spicy male scent and sniffling. They’re all there, supporting me. I didn’t realize how much I needed those hands there to catch me. I never thought they’d forgive so easily. Or that I deserved their forgiveness. “I thought I told you to relax,” Jack says, his arm tightening around me. “Well, that’s easier said than done. I feel like I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop.” “Why don’t you let me worry about

that for now?” Glancing up at him, I say, “Were you always this pushy?” He smiles. “Were you always this stubborn?” “I’m going to take that as a yes,” I say, turning back to focus on the movie, though I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t know how the hell he expects me to relax. Doesn’t it bother him? How close we are? How easily his hands move over my body? Like the time separating us is inconsequential. Being with him, touching him, used to be easy. As the minutes pass and my muscles loosen, I sink into his arms, my head pressed right up against his chest, his heartbeat a reassuring thud in my ear. My

fingers rest on the flat of his abdomen, just a thin layer of cloth between his stomach and my fingers. My breathing turns erratic as my awareness of him increases. When his fingers start to trail along the length of my arm that’s draped over my hip, I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly through my teeth. The tips of his fingers make light paths over my arm and down to my wrist at a leisurely pace. His touch may be causal, hell, it could even be an afterthought, but the reaction inside of me is anything but. I barely recognize the stirrings in my stomach, the tightening. I haven’t felt this way since…well, since him.

By the time the movie ends, I’ve forgotten everything but the touch of his hands. As he lifts me to my feet to help clean up the empty paper plates and dirty cups, I realize he got what he wanted. I’ve never felt so relaxed in my life. Shaking off the floaty feeling, I get to my feet and herd the boys toward the stairs. “Brush your teeth,” I remind them as they clomp upstairs. It’s not until their footsteps recede and I turn to face Jack behind me that I realize we’re alone down here. The secrets that were like a person standing between us are out in the open now. There’s no hiding, no running from him. Though based on the look in his eye, he’d welcome the chase.

Nerves skitter through me and a nervous hand moves up to my neck to play with a necklace that isn’t there. “I —uh, I think I’ll go wash up.” “Don’t think you’re gonna run from me now, Sofie,” he says, bringing me to a halt a few inches away from him. He’s leaning casually against the wall at the base of the stairs. His eyes are unreadable, his face carefully blank, but I feel the tension coming off him in waves. He wants answers, I know. He more than deserves them. But that’s not the only thing he wants. “I’m not running from anything,” I say, even as I glance for an exit. He pushes off the wall and gets in my space. I ball my fists by my sides because if I

don’t they’d already be inching up the firm expanse of chest that fills my vision. “You got that wild look in your eyes, baby. You’re either gonna run or you’re gonna find something to get pissed about and start yelling at me.” Frowning, I glance up at his upturned lips. “I don’t yell at you.” His teeth flash. “The hell you don’t. The only time I got a word out of you lately is when I push your buttons.” “Then maybe you shouldn’t push my buttons,” I suggest, my tone overly sweet. He inches closer, his T-shirt radiating his heat, his chest touching my own. I notice the weirdest things about

being so close to him like this. Like how our feet touch and knees brush against each other. Not body parts that I’d normally classify as high up on my list of erogenous zones, but hell if my heart doesn’t start to gallop inside my chest. I take an automatic step back and I bump into the banister. My hands fly out to grip the wood. Trapped. “What are you doing?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry, all previous bravado gone. “You came to me,” he says and I blink up at him. “I…what?” “When you thought I was hurt, when you needed someone to be there for you.

You came to me.” “Don’t read into it,” I say, shrinking back against the wood posts. Oh God, I don’t know what I’m going to do if he touches me. I both fear and crave his touch and the warring needs cause my breathing to go uneven. He notices the hitch in my chest, damn him, and those unfathomable eyes darken. He moves even closer now and my eyes flutter closed, the sight and feel of him is simply too much for me to process. “I thought it was something I did. Something I said that ran you off. That I’d gotten too serious with you. Pushed you too far.” I shake my head, aching for

everything I ever did to hurt him. “It was never you.” A hand cups my cheek and he waits until I open my eyes. “It was always you,” he says, before he touches his lips to mine. It lasts the barest of seconds, but it’s enough for his groan to weaken my knees and his tongue to slip into my mouth with unerring accuracy. His taste floods my system, intoxicating me, throwing me back to every other kiss we shared just like this. His careful touches and plundering licks undue me, steal my senses. He ends the kiss first, pulling away with both hands on my shoulders. When I manage to force my eyelids to cooperate,

I blink rapidly to clear the haze from my vision. Two smirking teenage boys fill my vision. I panic, throwing my hands up to push Jack away, but he doesn’t budge. “Jack,” I hiss, shoving at him. “Sofie,” he says back. Then he looks at the two of them. “Need something?” I look at him, eyes wide. Is he crazy? How can he be so calm? They share a smile, then Rafe says, “We ran out of toothpaste.” Narrowing my eyes, I point to my bathroom. They both back away with a couple elbows to each other’s ribs and smiles stretched a mile wide. I manage to keep my reaction under control until they make their way back upstairs. “You can’t do stuff like that!”

“Do what?” he says, eyes smiling. My gaze drops down to his lips and I suck in a breath when I notice they’re still red from our kiss. I tear my eyes away. “You know what.” “Watch me,” he says, then leaves me staring after him. He double checks the locks on the doors and grabs a few things the boys missed on their way through, then throws them in the trash. When he comes back to the stairs, I’m still standing there with what I’m sure is a dumb look on my face. “You okay?” He wraps one strong hand around my wrist and pulls me free from my stupor. Shaking myself, I nod and ease my

wrist from his grip. “Perfectly fine.” “You looked stunned for a minute there,” he says, looking way too pleased with himself. I open my mouth to respond but find I’m at a loss for words. With a frustrated growl, I stalk by him to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Prowling around the room, my heart still racing, I can’t quite seem to wrap my head around what happened. Then I realize he’s probably not going to let a door stop this conversation we’re supposed to be having, so I gather up some clothes, I don’t even see them as my shaking hands pick them out of the drawers, and lock myself in the bathroom.

I strip, tossing my clothes in the general direction of the hamper and getting under the hot spray, hoping it will help clear my mind. The best thing to do right now is to go out there and explain to him we can’t go down this road again. He has to know that. How can he even want me after I left him? Especially not after what I told him. It was just the circumstance, I decide. The emotional rollercoaster of the past few days caught up with him and he got carried away in the moment. Even I have to admit it’s hard not to fall in old patterns, being back here in my childhood room when things were so much easier and happier. I rinse out the shampoo, slather on

conditioner and feel like a new person. I’ll get out of the shower, thank him for being here for me when I needed him, and we’ll both get on with our lives. Sure, we’ll see each other around town, in one the size of Nassau that’s inevitable, but we can be grown up about it. As I step out and wrap my head in a towel, I push the thoughts of what it would be like to watch him get married and have a family out of my mind. I’ll deal with that when it happens, even if I’d rather walk through glass barefoot. I dry off and get dressed in a pair of shorts and a matching tank-top. They were cute on the rack, but I stare at them in horror in the fogged reflection in the

mirror. In my haste to get away from Jack, I couldn’t have picked a more revealing outfit. The shorts barely cover my ass and I forgot a bra, or even a camisole, to put under the tank-top. If I walk out there it’s going to be like putting on an advertisement. I bang my head softly against the mirror. “Sofie?” he calls from the other side of the door. “You okay?” My head shoots up and knocks against the overhead shelf. “Shit,” I whimper, cradling my head in my hands. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say to Jack. “You can let yourself out,” I add for good measure.

“Not gonna do that,” he replies. More concerned about his words and my head than my clothes, I open the door. Steam billows out behind me as I step through. “What do you mean you’re not gonna do that?” I take a cautious step forward, still holding the towel on my head and nursing the sore spot. My vision clears and I take in the sight of him sprawled over my bed. If the knot on my head wasn’t already making the world spin on it’s axis, having him in my bed would have. He traded his jeans and a T-shirt for basketball shorts and no shirt, looking like every teenage fantasy I’ve ever had of him. Of course, back then he hadn’t been quite so big and ripped. The

combination of military training and constant working out at the gym had been very, very kind. I grip the door jam for support and forget what I’m supposed to be upset about. His abs shift as he crunches to tuck his legs under the blankets and I count a twelve pack. The sheets come to rest around his hips and he looks very nearly naked. In my bed. Sweet baby Jesus. “I mean,” he says and I drag my eyes from his stomach to his well-defined chest, to his unsmiling mouth, “I want to stay here, with you.” Swallowing thickly, I towel off my hair to give my hands something to do because otherwise they’d be trembling.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” “I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in years.” “What about Donnie and Rafe?” “Pretty sure they got the idea when I had my mouth on you, babe,” he says. “You don’t think that’s going to be confusing for them? They’ve been through enough as it is.” I grab lotion from my toiletry bag and start slathering it on. I keep my eyes on my hands as I sit on the side of the bed instead of looking at him. “Think they got used to me being here when I stayed after your mom died. And when I helped you guys when you were sick.” Lotion finished, I have no other

excuses not to look at him, so I start to lift the blankets up to slide in and then slide back out again. “I’m going to go get some water,” I say. “Sofie,” he says and I stop in my tracks. “C’mere.” “I don’t know if I can do this.” I keep my eyes on the door as the words spill out of my mouth in a rush. “I’m not the same person I was when I left. I know you aren’t either. I can’t stand the thought of losing you again when things are just starting to go back to normal.” I take a shuddering breath. “You’re were my best friend, Jack.” “You were mine,” he says. “Get back in bed.” I obey, finally looking at him as I get

under the covers and curl up on my side next to him. He’s got one arm under his head now, the other resting lightly on his abdomen. I inhale deeply, which only serves to fill my senses with his scent, citrus and bay and a little bit of male. “I used to have a shirt of yours that I’d sleep in when I was away at college that first year,” I say. “I wore that damn thing nearly every night. I think my roommate thought I was a nut job or poor because I refused to wear anything else.” His free hand comes up to push my hair back. He doesn’t say anything, but the touch is more than enough. My breath catches, but I continue. “It smelled like you. After a while it went

away, but for a few weeks it was like you were there with me.” His fingers flex on my cheek and he withdraws his hand. The bed shifts beneath me as he moves, but I don’t look up from my study of the sheets. When his hands come to my waist, my eyes shoot to his face. “Sit up,” he says. “You let me know if you’re okay.” My brows furrow, then realization hits as his fingers slowly draw the tanktop I’m wearing up by the hem. He does it slowly, probably more so to gauge my reaction than to tantalize, but it has the same effect. By the time he has the shirt up over my shoulders and tosses it on the ground, I forget how to breathe.

He keeps his eyes on mine, only flashing down to my bare chest for the slightest of moments, then he tugs a Tshirt over my head. It’s still warm from his body and I automatically ball the hem in my hands and bring it to my nose. Olfactory memories are incredibly intense. For years after Damian, I couldn’t walk into a gym or a sportsplex without becoming violently nauseous. Even now, I’m not sure how I’d handle Jack’s gym from the scent alone. His shirt, on the other hand, brings to mind much more pleasant memories. Like the night of our first kiss. I’d been sixteen and were watching a movie at his and Livvie’s house. She’d passed out on the floor with us on the couch. As the

movie played the space between us diminished until our shoulders and knees brushed. Our hands lay next to each other on the cushion, pinkies touching, until our fingers knotted. Loving him felt inevitable. As sure as gravity and as unrelenting. I’d looked up from our hands, my heart racing, and found him watching me with those green eyes. Then we were kissing, Livvie and movie forgotten. I don’t even remember how it started, just that I never wanted it to end. Whenever I wore his shirt to sleep that first year, the smell reminded me of that kiss—how beautiful and innocent, okay, well maybe not that innocent, but how real intimacy is shared, not taken.

“What were you just thinking about?” he asks, his eyes on my face. My cheeks heat and I drop the hem of his shirt. “Our first kiss,” I say. His gaze heats just like it did in my memories. “You’re killing me here,” he says. “What’d I do?” I ask. “I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he says, nudging my shoulder until I’m laying next to him. “What do you mean?” “Seeing you in my shirt, being here in this room, having a taste of you. It’s like no time has passed. I like all those things too fucking much.” He turns over and flicks off the light. In the darkness, surrounded by him,

it’s easier for me to let the truth out. “I like it too,” I say. “What do you want from me?” he asks finally. “Whatever you want, you’ve got it. I can be your friend. If that’s all you need, I can do it. I just want to have you in my life again. And not like it’s been these past few years where we act like strangers. I want my best friend back. Even if that means that’s all we’ll ever be.” I bite my lip as I consider. “I don’t, I mean, I’m not sure if I can do more than that.” I try to keep a bit of distance between us, but his hands wrap around my waist and tug me into his arms. Even though his shirt is like heaven, being

snuggled up to him is a million times better. I wish, not for the first time, I’d had him those first years in college instead of just his shirt. “We can take it easy,” he says. “If that’s what you need. I just missed you, Sofie. So fucking much.” “I missed you, too,” I say against his chest, my breath shuddering in my own. “I’m so sorry for leaving like I did.” “Shhh,” he says. “That part is over. You didn’t do anything wrong. I wish I’d known, I wish I could have helped you, but I’m not going to blame you for what you did to cope.” “I was just scared,” I say. He tucks me closer, his heartbeat a steady drum under my ear, his arms a

cage all around me. “I know, baby. I know you were. But you don’t have to be scared anymore. If I hadn’t been so blinded, I would have seen it. I should have seen it regardless.” “It’s not your fault. Not any of it. I don’t blame you.” “You should,” he says, and I can feel his pain in the dark because it’s an echo of my own. “You should blame me. I should have known who he is, what he could do. I should have kept him away from you.” My hands rub his back. “No one can know what lies inside a person. It took me a long time to understand that, accept it. I didn’t know either, not really. Some people are just evil. I’m sure you know

that.” He tucks my head under his chin and I sigh, remembering how well we fit together. Like two pieces of the same messed up puzzle. “Yeah, I guess I’ve seen my fair share of that.” “Was it hard? The deployments, I mean. I thought of you when you were there and I think that was the worst, knowing you could die and I wouldn’t be there.” “Hey,” he says, tipping my face up. “Don’t. I’m okay. We’re okay. No more looking back.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “No more regrets.” “No more regrets,” I repeat. “And yeah, it was hard. Though

probably not in the way you’re thinking. It was hard coming home. Knowing I was leaving my guys behind to face it without me. Always wondering who could have lived if I’d stayed. I left them there,” he says. “I’m sure they understand,” I say. “Of course they do, they’ve got families and all, but when you’re there, the guys you’re with become your family.” “Do you ever think about going back?” He’s silent for a few seconds, then he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I do, sometimes. You should get some sleep.” “Thank you,” I say into his chest. “For being here.”

“Any time.”

A few days pass and we fall into a routine. One of us gets the boys ready and takes them to school or practice, the other picks them up and takes them home. We all eat together, goof around, then we go to sleep. Waking up to find Jack in bed with me is quickly becoming my new favorite pastime. At first, I don’t realize where I am and in those few seconds of bewilderment, I don’t panic like I normally would, afraid and alone in the dark. My body recognizes, even if I don’t, that he’s near, that I’m safe.

I open my eyes to a broad expanse of chest, rising and falling with each soft inhalation. My arm is wrapped around his waist, my head still cradled on his shoulder. The T.V. is off, and the only light in the room comes from the predawn glow through the thin curtains. For a moment, I’m frozen, staring up at his sleeping face. The years had done him good. I always knew he’d be the type of man to carry age well. In twenty years he would probably still be sexy as hell. Maybe a little bit of gray will streak along his temples. Maybe a few laugh lines around his mouth or the corners of his eyes. A woman would be lucky to have him by her side. Damn lucky.

I give in to the impulse to feel his hair between my fingers and run a hand back from his temple and down past his ear to his neck where his pulse beats steadily against my fingers. He turns his head to me and nuzzles against the caress, causing my fingers to slide down to the firm line of his throat. My breath catches in my throat, the contact more illicit than the past ten years’ worth of my sexual experiences combined. I can feel the bead of his nipple against the palm of my hand. He shifts again, and I retract my hand, though, I can still feel him like a brand. I retreat to the far side of the bed and hope that the cool air will calm my burning face. When that doesn’t help, I

snatch up the water bottle from my bedside table and press it against my forehead. Then I catch a glimpse of my clock and notice I slept so deeply with him beside me that I slept through my alarm. I jump out of bed and immediately stub my toe on the dresser before I make it to the bathroom to brush my teeth. “Shit, shit, shit,” I say, whimpering from the throbbing in my toe. I rush through my morning routine, brushing my hair, swiping on makeup, and dragging on a basic black dress to cover my hurried preparations. I’ve got another meeting with HR and the last thing I want to do is be late. He watches me from the bed, the

sheet pulled up to his waist and his chest bare which helps to distract me from the pain. “Still graceful as all hell, Sof.” “Shut up,” I tell him, hoping my makeup covers the blush spreading across my cheeks. “The dresser was just in the wrong place.” “Wrong place,” he says with a grin on his lips. “Need coffee,” is the only response I can come up with by way of an explanation. “C’mere first.” I turn to face him. “What?” “Just c’mere.” I walk across the bedroom, trying to gauge his mood after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days. When

I get close enough, he surges up, sifting one hand through my hair and causing it to fall in a curtain around us as he yanks me down. My fingers twitch against his skin and when he turns, rolling me onto my back, I laugh into his mouth as he presses a kiss to my lips that feels as natural to me as breathing.

Present

THE FIRST TASTE of her is intoxicating. Better than even my most explicit fantasies. Even more sexy than her sweet lips pressed to mine, is the laughter bubbling in her chest. She keeps her hands between us, pressed against my

chest—the last vestige of her resistance —but I don’t let it deter me from sampling her mouth. “You had your hands on me this morning,” I say against her lips. “I don’t think just friends touch me the way you did.” She starts to pull away, a flush already spreading across her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” I keep my arm around her waist, not enough to scare her off, just enough so she knows I’ll resist if she tries to back away. When she stops struggling and looks into my eyes, I say, “I didn’t say I wanted you to stop.” Her bottom lip drops and I can’t resist the growl rumbling in my chest.

Still caught in the haze of half-sleep, between dreams and reality, past and present, I capture her lower lip and nibble, laving it with my tongue. She moans into my mouth, her fingers now clutching at my shoulders. “Jack, I have to get to work.” I kiss a path down her throat. “You will.” Eventually. “As in on time.” “Now that, I don’t know if I can do,” I say as I bite the swell of her breast exposed by her dress. Her retort gets stuck somewhere in her throat and I take advantage of her silence by peeling down the top portion of her dress until her breasts are bared to my attention. Her hands go to my head as my lips

make the achingly slow journey to her hardened nipple. I suck it into my mouth and her fingers dive into my hair to hold me against her. I flick my tongue in a wicked pattern until she writhes against me. “I don’t…I can’t…” “Shh. Yes. Yes, you can.” Suddenly, I want it more than anything. I want to feel her come undone under my hands. Want to see the sweet release come in waves across her face. I need to take her there. Erase his memory. Make her mine again. Mine. I’ll be sure enough for the both of us. I slip my hands under her exposed breasts and lift them up so I can give them the attention I remember she loved

so much. I take one in each hand, my thumb and finger tweaking them ever so slightly that each subtle movement sends shocks throughout her body. When she’s moaning, mindless, I flip her under me, her dress bunched up around her hips. My head moves from her breasts and down her stomach to kiss her belly button. My tongue slips in for a moment and she gasps. Then I nuzzle the line of her panties with my nose. I look up at her flushed face before I make the next move. She glances down between us and wedges her fingers under the waistband of her panties until she can shimmy out of them. I tear my gaze away from her eyes, wanting to watch her face and look my fill, and not

knowing which I want more. “This okay?” I ask, gauging her reaction as I fit my shoulders between her legs. She spreads them in increments, thighs trembling, but I don’t rush her, the anticipation all the more monumental because of her trust. To show my gratitude, I kiss the inside of her thigh causing her to throw her head back. I kiss the other and make the slow journey down each until I reach her pussy. I pull my hands away from her breasts and look up at her face long enough to guide her hands where mine just were. The sight of her touching her breasts wrings a groan from my chest, the vibration against her sensitive skin

causes her legs to press against my shoulders in response. “I’ve imagined you like this for the past ten years,” I say gruffly. “You’re definitely gonna be late for work.” Then I flick my tongue over her and she cries out, needy. Wanting. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it worth it.” “No, Jack, I mean it. I don’t know if I can.” She clutches handfuls of my hair and I shiver just looking up at her dazed face. There’s a hint of tension tightening her eyes so I move up, focus on her words. “Don’t know if you can what?” She glances away and I bring a hand to her cheek to look at me. “If you want to stop, we can. We can wait.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t know. I just don’t want to disappoint you. This…sex. It’s not easy for me. I don’t…I haven’t done this in a long time.” I stroke her stomach and lean up to press a kiss against her lips, tasting her, reassuring her. “No pressure here, baby. I just want to make you feel good. Just want to take away the pain for a little while. Can I do that?” Nodding, she reaches up to kiss me back, then guides me back down her body. I nudge her legs back open and settle between them, determined. I can give her this. I wasn’t there when she needed me most, but I can be here now. Give her this reprieve.

With her pleasure in mind, the sound of her breathless gasps in my ear, I suck her sensitive bundle of nerves into my mouth, teasing her ruthlessly with my tongue. I lift her hip with one hand, cupping it to bring her closer to my mouth. If her mouth had been intoxicating, the taste of her desire is a drug and I dive in, eager to stoke my own growing addiction. I alternate between her clit and her entrance, not sure which I want to taste more. When she’s bucking beneath me and her moans grow louder, I free a hand and slip two fingers inside, my abs tightening when her tight channel sucks my fingers in with desperate clenches.

Warm. Wet. Slick. If I were less of a man, I’d come in my jeans just feeling her tighten around me with a desperate sob. I nearly do when she reaches down to grip my hair and lift her hips to meet my mouth. She groans. “Shit, shit, that feels good.” Encouraged by her words, I attack her pussy with renewed ferocity, the lust inside of me speared on by the tension building inside of her locked limbs with each flick of my tongue. Her hips move in time with the thrusts of my hand and her legs tighten around my shoulders. Curving my fingers upwards, I give her everything I’ve got. My hand squeezes the ripe curve of her ass, my

tongue tortures the little bud between her legs, and I try to ignore my dick straining between my legs. I haven’t been this hard in years and not taking her is a thing of torture. But this isn’t about me. Her back curves and her stomach quivers. The way she’s clutching around my fingers is agony, but I know she’s getting closer. Then a knock comes at the door, followed by Rafe’s voice. “We’re gonna be late!” he shouts. We both freeze and I look up to find Sofie’s eyes wide. Even though it pains me, I move back, trying not to pay attention to her sexy, nearly naked body on the bed.

“We’ll be right out,” I tell him. She presses her hands to her face, her body still shaking. “Oh my god,” she whispers. The mood broken, I kneel down and grab her panties, wincing at the throbbing in my dick. “I’ll be right back,” I say. “I’m just going to go murder your cock-blocking brother.” “Jack!” she says as she grabs my arm. I let her pull me down on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry,” she says. Pushing the hair from her face, I say, “You have nothing to be sorry about.” She blows out a breath and sighs. “I haven’t felt anything like that in a long time.” The boys forgotten, I study her eyes.

“Really?” “Yeah. Really.” She glances back at the clock. “Shit we have to go.” We both get to our feet and I kneel by her to help her step into her panties. I press a kiss to her hip and then stand to press one to her lips. “We’ll finish this later,” I say. “You don’t think we’re moving too fast?” she says. “Baby, I think we’ve waited long enough.” I grin. “I’m not against you using me for sex, anyway.” I drag her hand down my chest to the bulge under my thin briefs. “In fact, I’m all for it.” “You’re probably going to regret that,” she says, but her hand squeezes around me anyway.

I bring her mouth back to mine again. “I’m ordering you to feel good about this. No regrets, remember. Baby steps.” “Jack, I might not ever—” I nip her lip. “No regrets.” Glancing behind me at the alarm clock, I add, “You should probably get dressed.” She yelps and I enjoy watching her race around the room half-naked, her tits bare and bouncing. It doesn’t distract me from the thought of her, twisted in agony from being yanked back from the edge. If I didn’t know she’d been assaulted, I’d know it now. Imagining the things he’d done to her to make her so ashamed of her own response has me boiling as I pull on my

jeans and T-shirt. I almost hope I run into the bastard at the gym. I could use something to pound on. His face would do. Forcing him from my mind, I turn to a frantically dressing Sofie. “Why don’t you let me drop you off? I’ll take the boys to school and basketball practice, then we can have some guy time after instead of them going to the sitters while you’re at work.” She pokes an earring through and glances at me in the mirror. “Are you sure?” “Wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t.” “Then, yeah, I guess that’s okay.” She slips into a pair of black heels that make

her legs look a mile long. I can’t resist pulling her to me for another kiss and this one runs long. So long that when I come up for breath, I realize I’ve got her pressed against the bedroom door with my hands in her hair and one of her legs wrapped around my waist. Leaning my head against the wood, I say, “Shit. I’m not doing so well about just being your friend.” Rafe pounds on the door and Sofie looks up at me, “I think you’re doing just fine.” “Are you gonna be okay today?” I ask. “Do you think we should go to the police? If he’s threatening you, we should report it.”

She shakes her head immediately, already disengaging from my arms to grab her purse and open the bedroom door. “No, I’d rather not.” “Are you sure—” “I’m positive.” We find the boys on the couch in the living room. “Load up in Jack’s truck,” she says and they both leap from the couch and bound out the door. “At least consider it,” I say as I follow her out and double check her locks. “Maybe.” I step around her on the steps so I’m below her and look up into her eyes. “Consider it,” I repeat. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

She puts a hand on my cheek. “I’ll consider it, but I’m not making any promises. Reporting him won’t do much good without solid evidence and the only thing it would accomplish is pissing him off. My plan is to ignore him until he gives up and goes away.” “What if he doesn’t?” “I’ve taken self-defense,” she says, her hand dropping to my shoulder for a squeeze. “I won’t let him catch me off guard ever again.” “You did?” Smiling, she says, “Why? Wanna find out if I can kick your ass?” I take another step up, putting me level with her mouth. “Maybe I do.” Her lips brush mine and then her car

horn blares, causing her to laugh. “Rain check,” she says. “Want to do something with them this weekend? Maybe a movie or something? I feel like we could all use some fun.” “Actually, I’ve been planning to go down to the beach and was wondering if you’d like to come? Livvie, Ben, and Cole are coming, too. Thought we could all make a day of it. Plus, it’s an excuse to see you all oiled up in a bikini.” “Sure. What time?” “We’ll be leaving about eight so we can get there before all the good spots are taken.” I back down the steps toward my truck. “Make sure it’s your skimpiest bathing suit.” Her laughter follows me to my truck.

A cold shower is definitely the first and last thing on my list of priorities.

A couple days have passed and I’m already itching with the urge to see her again. I end up closing the gym so the contractor can come in during the weekend and give me an estimate for repairs and renovations before I list the place for sale. I’ll be sad to see it go because it’s one of the last things I still have of my father’s, but after what Sofie told me, I can barely stand to be there without it making my skin crawl. A few sun soaked hours is exactly

what we all need. I plan on making it the first fun weekend of many. So we can get to know each other again. So the kids can get used to seeing us together. The ride to her house is a long one, mostly because I spend it thinking of her in a little suit diving into the water, then what her tan lines will look like framing my favorite parts. They’re already waiting on the porch when I pull up and the reality of her dressed in nothing but the bathing suit and a skimpy little cover up dress that leaves little to the imagination is just as good as all of my fantasies. I make the prudent decision to drive the truck right up to the front of the house to let the boys climb in the back because getting out

right then isn’t an option. Sofie lunges herself into the front seat, grinning at me when I curse at the sight of all of her skin up close. I lean across the center console to kiss her when I can’t put it off anymore. She smells like coconut tanning lotion and sweet mint gum. The kiss lasts a little longer than I plan and I only pull away when I hear Donnie mutter, “Man, I almost liked it better when they were fighting. At least then they didn’t kiss so much,” in the back seat. Leveling him with a look I say, “You just wait until you get your own woman, then you’ll understand.” He makes a face at me and I kiss Sofie one more time before we pull out

of the driveway and make our way to the beach. “The sun feels so good,” Sofie says a few hours later. “I’m never leaving.” “Best. Idea. Ever.” Livvie’s voice is muffled from laying face down on her arms. Rafe and Donnie’s excited shouts come from the water, punctuated by the mad giggles from Cole, as they take turns jumping over waves. They both make sure to keep eagle eyes on the younger boy to make sure he doesn’t strain himself too much. Cole was born with a heart condition called Hypoplastic left heart syndrome where the left side of his heart was severely underdeveloped. As a result, we’ve all had to be extra

careful to make sure he doesn’t strain himself too much. “Thank you for this,” Sofie says, her voice slurred and relaxed. I lean down and kiss her shoulder. “Anytime.” Livvie lets out a strangled squeak behind me and I don’t even bother turning around. “I knew it,” she whispers to Ben. “Shut up,” Sofie says without looking up. “Please let the record state: I told you so.” “Ben,” I say as I glance back at him reclining by my sister. “Please do me a favor and throw this woman in the water for me.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Livvie says, but she looks up at him warily anyway. “Don’t you dare!” Ben snags her by the waist and throws her over his shoulders as she shrieks his name so loud all the families on blankets swivel their heads our way. We hear her all the way down to the waterline until Ben wades in and tosses her into an oncoming wave, her voice cutting off mid-scream. “What did you do that for?” Sofie asks. She blinks up at me, her skin shiny with body oil, every single bared inch of it. She’s not especially tall, but I’ve never seen anyone who wears a suit quite like she does. All tanned skin and

dangerous curves. “Wanted to kiss you and not hear any lip about it,” I say. I recline on my own towel next to hers with a pair of sunglasses propped on my nose so I don’t have to feel weird about staring at her all day long. A smile plays on her lips. “You sure are doing that a lot lately.” “Doing what?” I ask. Her cheeks are pink, but I have a hunch it’s not just from the summer sun. “Kissing me,” she says softly, the wind catching her hair and making it ripple around her. I lean down to kiss her again on principle. “Gotta lot of time to make up for.”

This time her smile turns into a laugh. “Well how long is it going to take?” “Dunno,” I say. “Why don’t you kiss me and maybe we’ll find out?” Then she leans down and puts a tentative hand on my chest. I cradle her with my left arm and prop us both up with my right as her lips cover mine. Kissing her is sunshine and a soft ocean breeze. Beautiful and bright and enough to wash away every inconsequential thing that doesn’t matter. She tastes like the fruit punch she shared with Cole and I sit up to get a better hold so I can drink her in. She moans against my lips as I angle my head to take the kiss deeper, take her

lips harder. Her arms wind around me and rain sand on both of our laps, but neither of us pay it any mind. When we both break apart breathing heavily, she leans her head against my chest. “I could probably get used to that,” she says. “I plan on doing it enough that you do,” I tell her as I recline so she can rest her head on my arm. Her fingers fidget with the tie on my board shorts, drawing heat to places not quite touched by the sunlight. “Something on your mind?” I ask. “Nothing, just thinking,” she says. “About what?” “How crazy life is.” I grunt and pull her fingers from my

trunks to rest on my stomach and then cover them with my own. “I know you said you wanted to take it slow,” she starts, then stops to take a deep breath. Cracking my eyes open a little to study her dark hair, I say, “Yeah, what about it?” “I’m thinking that maybe I don’t want to.” “You mean that?” I ask. “Or are you just sayin’ it because you think you should?” “I’m saying it because I mean it.”

The following Monday after Sofie heads to work, I take the boys to school again, then to their basketball practice. Their summer workouts focus on lots of running and conditioning to prep for the season, and I sit in the bleachers and watch them. Mostly because I enjoy spending time with them, but also because I want to make sure Damian doesn’t decide to target the boys next. If he can target women, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to attack kids. Especially, if he’s doing it to get to me. Rafe and Donnie come up after their practice finishes and I snag them around the shoulders. “Y’all want to hang out at your friend’s house tonight?”

“Yes!” they both say at the same time. “Can we stay over?” Rafe asks. “That’s a helluva great idea,” I say. “But I’ll be checking in every couple hours so no funny stuff.” “Who us?” Donnie asks. “I remember what I was like at your age, so yes, you.” I walk with them to my truck, nodding at a few of the parents I recognize. No doubt word will spread through town that I’m back with that V girl again. Which is exactly what I want. I want him to know I’m with her. That he doesn’t scare me. That even if he took ten years, he can’t have what he wants. Especially if he thinks he can scare her

again. With that in mind, we swing by the local diner whose proprietor is also known as the biggest busy body in three counties. The moment she sees me walk in with the two of them her eyes go as wide as the antique saucers she collects and when I order our food and one extra, she purses her lips as if she can’t possibly contain the secret, even though I’m standing right in front of her. I hear her whispers even as I’m walking out the door. It makes me smile the entire way home. If I learned anything during my time in the military, you don’t let them see your weakness. And fuck if I’m gonna let him get away with terrorizing her twice.

A few hours later the front door opens and shuts and Sofie walks in with a cheerful, “Hello,” over Rosie’s welcoming barks. “I forgot to bring something back for dinner, but we can order…” She stops in the entryway to the kitchen and finds her food already on a plate on the counter. The smile that spreads over her lips, but tries to hide, also warms her eyes as she glances from the plate to me. “What’s this?” she asks, setting her purse, keys, and cell on the counter. “Dinner,” I tell her. I take a sip of my drink and watch her over the rim. She takes the beer I offer and brings it to her lips. “Where are Donnie and

Rafe?” she asks. “They ate a little while ago then I dropped them off at their friends for the night.” She pauses with a burger held up to her mouth. “You did what?” She swallows. “Why did you do that?” “This is me not taking it slow.” Her face reddens. “Jack,” she says. I walk over, cupping her face in my free hand and kissing her lips, still cool from the beer. “Why don’t you finish your food first, though?” I kiss her again, a little deeper this time. “You’re gonna need the energy.”

AFTER I CHOKE down some food, Jack takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to my bedroom. I pad behind him, my legs nearly boneless, my thoughts somewhere in the vicinity of the clouds. I’d follow him pretty much anywhere at this point. He closes the door behind us and

brings me close enough for a quick kiss that steals all sense. When he strips my clothes off with startling efficiency, my first response is to cover my nakedness with an arm. Jack tips my chin up to look at me and draws my arm away. “Don’t. There’s nothing about you I want you to hide.” He pulls me close with a hand on my cheek. “I like everything about you, Sofie. Even the parts you want to keep in the dark.” “I thought I was just a friend,” I say, slightly teasing, but there’s a thread of hope in there, too. “You’ve never been just an anything, Sof.” I open my mouth to respond, but he

cuts me off by taking my mouth with his. My hands come up to press against his chest and I make a sound of surprise that he laps up with his sinfully skilled tongue. Over the years, I had run from every romantic entanglement, throwing myself into my work in an effort to replace the emptiness I felt when I left Jack. As a result, my experience, aside from him, is essentially nil. Even so, the moment he fits my body against his with one long press of his big hands against my back, I forget to worry about it. I forget to think, period. He breaks the kiss with a groan. “Holy God, you taste so fucking good.” He takes my lips again, parting them to

delve inside with a commanding sweep of his tongue. “The best,” he says. “I could kiss you forever.” “Shut up,” I murmur against his lips. “Tell me if I need to stop,” he says, helping me down to the bed. “I don’t want to go too far.” I nod. “I will. Just kiss me.” I expect him to go for it, to plunder and take, but he doesn’t. I should have known better. Instead, he brushes that damn kiss on my forehead, then nuzzles down the side of my cheek as he lays me down on the bed. I have to clutch his shoulders to keep steady when the soft press of his lips travel from the crest of my cheek back to my lips. By then, I’m squirming beneath him in an attempt to

get closer. I wind up draped across him, his hands mapping my back and venturing down my thighs. Unintentionally, my hips grind down against him, wrenching a pained groan from us both. He shifts, tracing one hand up my hip and over my ass. His fingers brush against a sensitive spot and I arch my neck against him. He fastens his lips there, flicking a path back to my lips. I focus my attention back on his mouth. I tense when his fingers dip under the material of my underwear, but he doesn’t do anything he just lays his hand there as he kisses me senseless. After a few minutes, my hips are pressing against him of their own violation, searching for something that I

don’t quite understand. “Shh, baby,” he says against my lips as he turns me to lay on my back with his long, muscular body beside me. “I’ll take care of you.” Finally, his hand moves to cover the most intimate part of me. His fingers slide against me until he finds the bundle of nerves that makes me gasp, still sensitive from the earlier stimulation. The sound makes him stiffen in response. Guided by my sounds, he slowly works that spot until I have to press my forehead to his throat. I find myself opening to him and wrapping a leg around his hip. In the end, his fingers are fluttering a relentless pace against me. I’m pressed

up against him as close as I can get without the two of us becoming one. We’re sharing an open mouth kiss that seemingly has no beginning or end. I can’t help the little keening sounds coming out of the back of my throat in time with each flick of his masterful fingers. My hips are working of their own accord and I can feel the thickness of him every time I thrust forward. Any other time, my wayward thoughts would send me in the other direction, but because it’s Jack I feel safe. For the first time, I imagine what it would be like to make love to him without fear or shame. The thought clicks something inside of me and I forget the pretense of kissing as my body

locks up against him. “That’s it,” he says against my lips. “Let it go. It’s gonna feel so good, just let me make you feel good. Fuck me, you’re gorgeous like this. I knew you would be.” His gruff, passion-laced voice sends a shiver throughout my body. But it’s his startling admission that sends me toppling over the edge. “I love you, Sofie,” he says, softer than a whisper. I don’t need anything more than that to make the sweetest orgasm roll through me. I want to respond, but he pulls me up and into the bathroom where he immediately draws a bath, gentle steam transforming that bathroom into a dream world. Once the water fills the tub, he

starts to tug at the button on his jeans. I let out an involuntary sound, imagining what it would feel like for that to be my hand instead of his. He slips the jeans down his hips then frees one leg and followed by the other. He tosses the jeans into the hamper, all the while, his eyes are on mine and I can’t seem to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. Then his fingers slide beneath the material of his black briefs, and I lose the ability to draw in air. But that’s okay, because as inch by perfect inch of his skin is revealed, I no longer care so much about breathing as I do about what’s underneath. He slides the briefs down his legs,

leaving them pooled at his feet. He steps out of them and toward me. I’d like to say that I could take my eyes off of his naked form, but I’d be lying. He is thick, and long, and incredibly, deliciously hard. My pussy tightens simply from looking at him. I can’t even fathom how good he’ll feel inside of me. When Jack reaches me, he takes my elbow in his hand and guides me to the seat next to the jet tub that’s still filling up behind me. The sound of the rushing water echoes off of the tile walls, cocooning us in a room full of steam and the scent of lavender. He kneels at my feet and I nearly groan at having him near me again. I’ve been reduced to a mass of nerves, of

needs. His hands travel up the length of my legs, his short nails applying just enough pressure to make me tingle all over. “You are even more beautiful than I remember,” he says. He pulls me to my feet, and our bodies brush against each other. That single touch is enough to fan my desire to a fever pitch. He guides me into the tub and settles down first. The tub is huge, big enough that it will fit the both of us comfortably. He brings me down facing him and straddling his legs. It’s pure torture having his hard length nestled up against me, but I follow his lead and relax against his chest in a tub full of bubbles. I feel him moving

against me, but the water and the steam and having him this close to me—at last —has me more relaxed than I’ve ever been in my life. Then I feel his slick hands against my back and I moan softly. He takes my hair and tucks it over one shoulder so that he can wash every inch of my back with his strong hands. The movement causes me to arch against him. Before I completely comprehend what I’m doing, I’m sliding against the length of his cock as he urges me forward with his hands rubbing back and forth over my spine. Overwhelmed with the enormity of my feelings and not knowing how to process them, I lift up in order to catch his mouth, needing that connection more

than anything. Each glide forward wrenches a low moan from me and I get to the point where I can’t stand the aching emptiness. I break the kiss. “I want you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I’m clean,” he says. “I get tested regularly for work.” Suddenly shy, I look down. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” I tell him. Then, wanting to be honest, I say, “Ever, aside from…” I trail off. His eyes widen and his hands clutch against my hips. I feel his dick jerk against me, and I look up at him in surprise. “You want to get out and get back on

the bed?” he says hoarsely. “No,” I tell him, diving back in for another kiss. “I don’t think I can wait that long.” He growls, then possesses my mouth, thrusting his tongue inside and wrenching my hips forward, making me gasp. His big hands grab my ass and lift me up on my knees. I reach down wanting to feel him, needing to feel him, and take him in my hands. He throws his head back, and I take that opportunity to taste and nip his neck. With him underneath me, powerless and completely at my will, I feel more powerful than I ever have in my entire life. Enjoying the feeling, I stroke his length in my hand until his hips are

lifting to meet me. The water splashes in rhythm against the sides of the tub until he covers my hand with his. He uses the one clasped at my hip to move me forward until I’m hovering just above him. I relax down and gasp around the first delicious sting. I manage to take the thick, bulbous head of him before I lift up and then sit down, taking in his entire length. The first slide is dually painful and pleasurable. “Ride me,” he says. “I want to watch you.” He pulses inside of me and my fingers tighten on his shoulders. If it were anyone else, I would have been embarrassed, but, surprisingly, a part of me feels delightfully wicked having this

man under my control, for my pleasure. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth as I experiment with angles and speeds. The water doesn’t allow for a lot of movement, but the restriction makes me feel even more desperate for release. Jack guides me up so that I’m on my feet above him. Then he shifts his arms so that they’re under my thighs, helping to lift me with each thrust. Penetration is even deeper this way, and I mean deep. When he adds a twitch of his hips, he bumps a spot inside that lights my blood on fire. Low moans erupt from my throat each time he hits the spot until he focuses his movements so that he’s hitting it with each thrust. I grind down,

searching for release, my hands on his shoulders, spreading my hips as far wide as they’ll go, but to no avail. With one hand Jack urges me forward so that my chest is brushing against his now with each movement. His soft chest hair brushes against my nipples, and I find myself purposefully rubbing against him to increase the feeling. At this angle, each glide brushes against my swollen clit and I can feel my release starting to build. “What do you need?” he asks in my ear. “I can hear you. You’re close. Fuck, I can feel it.” “Keep talking,” I say, shivering against him at the low rumble of his voice.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” Then his voice catches like he’s overcome by the slick, wet glide just as much as I am. The thought that he’s as much at my mercy makes my hips inch wider until I can’t move. He notices, and he moves his lips to my ear where I can hear all the dirty, explicit rumbles in his chest. The grunts of pleasure. Then he sucks in a breath like he’s about to come and my body trips over itself to join him. Sounds rip from my throat that I don’t even recognize and I’ve never been a vocal person. He speeds up his thrusts until he’s coming for real, gliding in and out so achingly slow that it prologues the waves of pleasure. The sounds of us together fill the small room

until the water goes a little cold and the aftershocks have ebbed. “You okay?” he asks, holding me close. “I don’t think I could possibly be better.” I yawn against his chest and he chuckles. “Think it’s about time I got you to bed, then.” He shifts underneath me to pull the plug, then helps me to my feet when they plum threaten to give out on me. He grabs a stack of towels and wraps me up in one. The puppy doesn’t even wake when we make it back to the bedroom. I dry off with rubbery limbs and forgo pajamas, choosing instead to slide under the cool covers. Jack steps into

another pair of black boxers and I decide that they’re my new favorite outfit on him. He has an exceptional ass, powerful thighs, and manages to fill them out like they were made for him. I eye him appreciatively as he walks around the bedroom, turning off lights and locking doors and windows. When he’s done with that, he slips in beside me, putting an arm around my waist and pulling my back to his chest. I fall asleep wrapped in him to the sound of Rosie’s snoring in the corner. This life with him, the life I’d always dreamt of, all it’s crazy included, is even more beautiful as a reality.

“SHIT.” I SHOOT a furious look around the gym, cursing whoever left the back door propped open to smoke again. This is exactly how vandals got in last year and trashed the place. The last thing I need is for some dipshit to come in and fuck everything up just before I list it on the market.

The phone rings and I glance back at the door before I dip into the office to answer it. I’ve been waiting on the final call from the enlistment guys to confirm and it’s not a call I want to miss. A sound comes from the hallway leading from the back door, but I ignore it to pick up the phone. “Jack,” I answer, straining to hear the sound again, when it doesn’t come I turn my attention to the voice on the line. “Hey, asshole.” Recognizing the voice, I relax a hip onto the edge of the desk. “Grady. So charming. What’s up?” “Just your friendly neighborhood jarhead calling to make sure you didn’t puss out on the reenlistment.”

I scrub a hand over my jaw. “And miss the opportunity to rub it in? Not a chance. I’m waiting on a call back as we speak. In fact, I thought you were them. You must have a sixth sense.” “Must have. Listen, I’m glad to hear it. Next thing we gotta do is find you a woman. I met this girl and I swear, I think it’s love.” “Yeah, I heard mention about you doing some crazy shit. Please tell me you weren’t on a dance show.” “Dancing under the Stars. You bet your ass. I’ll send you the link.” “Jesus.” “Don’t worry, Romeo. I’ll teach you some moves that’ll have the women flocking to your door.”

“I don’t need you to get me a woman. I can do that well enough all on my own.” His chuckle filters over the line, drowning out another rattle down the hallway. I ignore it to hear his response. “Got yourself a new girl?” “Nah, not new. The same one.” “No, shit?” “No, shit,” I confirm. “We should meet up sometime before you ship out again. I’ve got someone to introduce to you and I gotta meet this girl you’ve been telling me about.” “Definitely. I’ll get up with Ben and we’ll make a day of it.” “Sounds like a plan. Talk at you later.”

“Later.” I put the phone down on the receiver and wonder if I might have time before the boys are done at their friends house to take a soak in the sauna. The tension brewing in my shoulders is something wicked. My gut tells me nothing but catching the bastard before he gets to Sofie is going to relieve the festering knots, but at least it will soothe them for a minute. Fuck. I get to my feet to pace off the energy and hear another sound, a cry, come from the back door. My control snaps and I stride down the dark hall and slap a hand against the door, shoving it open. A keening wail erupts from the

woman at my feet as she slumps back against the wall. I get to my knees, recognizing her as one of the club members, and a girl I’d slept with about a year ago. “Emma?” I say. I brush back her hair to try and get a better look at her face. Hissing out a breath, I rock back on the balls of my toes, the wounds on her face steal a vicious litany of curses from my chest. “Emma, honey, can you hear me?” She moans, covering her face with bruised and bloodied hands. I can’t tell where all the blood is coming from, and Jesus Christ, there’s a shit ton of it. Not wanting to cause her more pain than she’s already in, I take out my cell from the pocket in my shorts and dial 911.

“Hang on, help is coming. I’ve got you,” I tell her. The ambulance comes and loads her in the back. Past and present collide as I imagine Sofie a few days after she was attacked. Sofie. My fingers fumble with my phone as I dial her number. “Hey, Jack,” she answers immediately. “I can’t really talk right now, but—” “Can you pick up the kids later?” I interrupt. “Sure, yeah. Are you okay?” she asks. “You sound weird.” I curse when the siren blares outside my window as the ambulance takes off. “Jack?” There’s an audible tremor in her voice.

“A woman was hurt at the gym,” I say, pulling out behind the ambulance. “Oh my God. What happened?” “Baby,” is all I can manage. Her silence says a thousand words. “Don’t—” I start before she cuts in. “It was him, wasn’t it?” She was always too goddamned smart for her own good. Before I can answer, she says, “I’ll have the boys go to a sitter or Livvie if I can’t get one on such short notice. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I hear her speaking to someone in the background. “Fifteen minutes, tops.” Then the line goes dead. What feels like hours later, a nurse comes to my side. “Mr. James? She’s

asking for you.” I toss the stale, cold coffee someone forced into my hands in the trash. “Thanks.” The nurse gives me a sympathetic smile. “Room 118.” The room is quiet except for the steady beep of the machines next to the hospital bed. After Livvie was attacked by her birth mother, I hoped to never see a hospital again and it makes my already tense shoulders draw up tight as bowstrings. Emma’s tiny form is a ball in the center of the bed, like she can’t get warm enough, or small enough, to make herself comfortable. “Emma,” I say, keeping my voice low.

The nurses have the lights lowered and the curtains drawn, casting shadows on everything. At first, I think it’s because they’re trying to entice her to sleep, then Emma sits up on the bed and turns to face me and I realize it’s because she doesn’t want me to see exactly how bad her injuries are. I don’t hold back my curse and Emma smiles, wincing at the same time. “What the hell happened? They haven’t told me anything. I followed you here. I couldn’t leave you. I know your parents don’t live in town.” “Thanks, Jack.” Her voice is barely more than a croak, and it draws my eyes to the dark bruises around her neck in the shape of handprints. “You didn’t have to

do that.” “The hell I didn’t. What happened to you? Who did this to you?” “I thought he was a nice guy,” she says. I sit beside her on the antisepticlooking hospital sheets. Her left arm is bandaged with a cast and done up in a sling so I sit on her right side and take her uninjured hand. “Who?” “I don’t—I can’t exactly remember his name. I mean, I’m sure he told me, but the doctor’s say I’m experiencing a bit of amnesia due to the attack. Not just the blow to the head, but trauma.” “Oh, honey,” I say, squeezing her hand softly. She’s a client, someone I’ve seen naked, vulnerable. She meant

something to me once, is still a friend now. Seeing her hurt so soon after Sofie’s confession is almost unbearable and I wonder if this is what she looked like after Damian attacked her. Or was it worse? “Anyway, it was some new guy at the gym. Tall, built, hot. This is in no way your fault. I just, I thought he was safe. He seemed nice. Said he knew you and all. That he used to work out at the gym.” I remember Sofie saying damn near the same thing and my shoulders hunch like I’m preparing for a blow. “He caught me off guard today as I was leaving the gym, must have hit me over the head with something because the next thing I remember is waking up

bent over in his truck.” She pauses, scoffing. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” “Take your time. I can bring in a counselor if you’d be more comfortable. I can call your mom or your sister.” “Trust me, the last thing I want to be doing is admitting to you I was raped and beaten by someone.” If it weren’t for her hold on my hand, I would have shot across the room to put as much space between the two of us as possible. From what I already know she’s going to say. “He said to tell you this was a wwarning.” Tears stream down her cheeks now, and she pulls her uninjured hand away to wipe them away, sniffling. “He

said you’d know what it meant.” I bring her hand to my lips. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” “Do you know what he was talking about?” “Yes, he hurt someone else I care about a long time ago. Kept hurting her.” I look into her eyes. “I want you to know I’m here for you. For whatever you need. If you want to press charges—” she shakes her head furiously. “No, no I can’t. God, what would they think? They know me around here. I’m not exactly a prude, Jack. You know that.” “That doesn’t mean shit and you know it.” “I flirted with him before it

happened. I was into it when I met him. He seemed nice at first,” she says again. “Did you tell him no? Did you want to have sex with him?” She hiccups through a sob. Her no is barely audible. “Then you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ask for this. This fucker deserves to be in jail for a long time to pay for what he did to you. I’ll stay with you, if they let me. To do a report. I can be here as long as you need.” Her vision grows clouded with sleep and the medication pumping through her I.V. “I dunno, Jack. Just hurts. Want my Mom.” “I’ll call your mom, honey, and we can talk about this some more later. You

just get some rest.” She curls back into a ball on the bed and I leave the room wondering if her dreams will be plagued with nightmares and wondering if there’s anything I can do to help. I think about Damian’s smug face and wish I’d known. I could have saved her from this horror. Then again, I hadn’t been there to save Sofie either.

Present

MY LITTLE CAR shakes beneath me as I max out the speed on the highway to get to the hospital. When I get there the E.R. is packed, so I stop a passing nurse. “The girl who was attacked? Was there a man with her?”

“I’m sorry, miss, but I really can’t say.” I growl and turn in a circle. Spotting a familiar dark head through the double doors, I barrel past a nurse and bang on the pane of glass. “Jack!” I say. His head shoots up, and the first thing I notice is he looks like complete crap. There’s blood on his shirt. I have to grip the handle to the locked door to keep from going down on the white linoleum. His eyes widen in alarm and he lunges for the door, grabbing ahold of my shoulders. “Sofie, what the hell?” “You’re bleeding?” I say dumbly, fingering the stains on his shirt and

noting his unsteady hands. “Are you hurt?” “No, I—” his voice breaks and he swallows. “It’s not mine,” he says. “When you called me my first thought …I thought it was Damian. It’s stupid, I know, but—” “It’s not stupid. He did…hurt someone.” My heart sinks like a stone to the bottom of my stomach. “Oh, God.” “She was, she is,” he corrects, “a friend. We dated for a while last year.” I close my eyes. “This is my fault. I could have done something to stop him from being released from jail. I should have hacked his files, fucked with his probationary hearings. I almost did it,

but then I thought, wouldn’t that make me as bad as him? Is there a line of good versus bad you just shouldn’t cross? Does one misstep make you a horrible human being? I guess the fact that I could have stopped him from hurting another person is proof enough.” “This isn’t your fault,” he says. “This was for me.” I frown. “For you?” “She said it was a message meant for me.” His eyes dart around the waiting room like an animal searching for an escape. “Can we get out of here? I don’t want to be here right now.” “Yeah, yeah, let’s go home. The boys decided to stay the night at their friend’s house again and grab a ride to the game

tomorrow. You can come to my house. It’ll be quiet there. We can take my car.” It was a change of roles for me to be comforting him and not the other way around. We’re both quiet as I lead him out of the emergency room and to my car. It’s ridiculously small for his long legs, but he folds up in the passenger seat without a protest and doesn’t say a word until we get back to my house. “Do you mind if I take a shower and change? I left some clothes here when I was cleaning up for your mom.” “I’ll start your shower while you go grab them, if you want.” “You don’t have to wait on me.” “If you could see your face, you wouldn’t be saying that. You’re as white

as a ghost.” He pauses in the front doorway, his hands flexing against his side and I recognize it as a fighter on the edge, priming to face his opponent, and I have the fleeting thought, is that opponent the monster that did this…or me? Or are they one and the same? He turns without responding and disappears into the house to hunt down his clothes. I don’t bother arguing with him and start the shower anyway, needing to keep my mind and hands busy. Too much time to think and I’ll remember he’s still out there. Hunting. Waiting. Maybe even searching for his next prey. Sneakers squeak against the

hardwood and then I feel his hard chest against my back. “For a second, I thought she was you. I pictured you there at seventeen and alone. Wanting your family to be there. Wanting me to stay with you, fight for you. And I just walked away.” “Jack—” “I just left you to deal with it on your own. He hurt you. God only knows how, and I let you go.” His lips course down my hair. “I’ll never forgive myself for abandoning you that way.” “I’m fine,” I insist, as his hands wrap around my stomach. His heart beats a wild tattoo I can feel in my own chest. “Because you’re the strongest woman I know.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not. I ran away. From you, from my family. I gave up everything that mattered to me.” “He took everything that mattered, and you picked up the pieces and fit them back together the best way you knew how.” “I don’t know where you get this vision of me, but I’m not the person you think I am.” He starts undressing behind me. I hear the rustle of his clothes as they plop on the tile floor at my feet. “No, you’re not. You’re better.” He starts undressing me, too. First my prim button-up, then my pencil skirt. I toe out of my heels—for the first time, I don’t care where they land. Then he

helps me under the hot spray with him, tucking me under his chin as we stand, locked against each other until the water turns cold. Jack gets out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist and holding one out for me to step into. He wraps me up like a child and leads us both back to my bedroom, where the curtains blot out the dim evening sunlight, draping the room in shadows. Pulling me to the bed, he drops both of our towels to the floor and wraps us up in blankets until we’re skin against skin in a cocoon. “I want you to talk to her,” he says, his voice hoarse with sleep and emotion. “To the girl?”

“Her name’s Emma. She could use the support, I think. I don’t know. Either way, I think it’ll be good for both of you. I want her to file a report.” I sit straight up in the bed, my heart pumping viciously. “And you want me to what? Provide additional evidence? A key eyewitness?” “Yes, to all of those. You both need it.” “And who are you to tell us what we need?” “I’m the man who’s seen the damage it’s done. To both of you.” He turns flat on his back and runs a hand through his hair. “I just want you to talk to someone. Logan’s still on leave, but we can consult with him to see what steps to

take. Emma’s scared, but I think if she had you, she’d be up to visiting the police.” “There’s nothing they can do to help me now, Jack. Too much time has passed.” He props himself up on one arm. “Yeah, but there is something you can do to help her. I wasn’t there for you when you were attacked, but I can do this. We can do this.” I recline on the bed, my arms rigid by my sides as he watches me. “I don’t know. I’m not saying no, I just…can I think about it?” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Of course.” Silence descends between us until I

can’t stand it any longer. “Did you want to go with me to the boys game tomorrow? With everything that happened today, I forgot to mention it.” “Damn right I will. Who do you think taught Rafe that jump shot?” Shivering, I give in and burrow into his warmth. “I’m glad you’re here.” He answers with a kiss against my forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says.

For the first time since Jack started staying over at my house I don’t sleep well. I keep expecting to wake up and

find Damian’s haunting face leering over me. We’re both quiet as we make the drive to Ben and Livvie’s house. He follows close behind me, one hand on my back. I take comfort in that. In knowing he’s right behind me. Cole opens the door and throws himself into my arms with a screech as soon as I knock. “Auntie Sofie!” His smiling face puts a grin on my own. “Hi, handsome. Is your mommy home?” Ben comes around the corner with a hassled look on his face. “Please, dear God tell me you’re here to take one of these runts off of our hands. Seriously, at this point, I’ll pay you if you want one.” I pat Ben on the face and laugh. “Do

you mean this kid or your wife?” He pauses to consider while Cole frowns at him, looking remarkably like his father. “Well, I was thinking about keeping the older one, but if you’ll take the brat with you, then by all means.” “Dad!” Cole stomps his foot. “Auntie Sofie is here to take me to the basketball game with Rafe and Donnie.” “And I’m here to recruit you to help with wrangling the team,” Jack says from beside me. “Apparently, it’s our turn to help out.” “Ah,” Ben says. “Go get your mom, spawn, and tell her to put a move-on.” “I’m standing right here, Ben. I’m not deaf.” She rolls her eyes at me as Ben pecks her on the cheek anyway and joins

Jack at the truck to finish loading some supplies he’s apparently been keeping in the shed. “How’s life?” I ask Livvie as she joins us on the porch. “Screw that, I want to hear about what’s going on with you and Jack. Can I expect a sister-in-law in the near future?” She wiggles her eyebrows. We head over to her patio furniture and I take a seat, my stomach suddenly fluttering with nerves. Livvie’s brows draw up and her smile melts away. “So what’s up? I was just joking about the sister-in-law thing. I know you’re trying to be friends.” I swallow dryly. “Welllll,” I drag out the word, unable to help my smile. I

haven’t really had time to enjoy it, but the flutters in my stomach are undeniable. Livvie squeals and kicks her feet. “Hot damn. I told Ben the other day that it was only a matter of time. I want details. I know it didn’t happen the day you were sick, so spill.” “Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll remember that the next time that you want babysitting.” She waves that away. “Totally worth it.” My mood sobers. “To tell you the truth, there is something we need to talk about.” I relay the details of that night, the reason why I broke up with Jack, and the

photo that brought us back together. Throughout my story, the smile on her face disappears and tears soon start rolling down her cheeks. She scoots her chair closer to mine until her arms are wrapped around my neck. I finish the last horrible bit into her hair. We hold each other for a few minutes and I realize how lucky I am to have such a great friend. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I should have been there with you. I encouraged you to go.” Her voice hitches with unshed tears. “This wasn’t your fault, Liv. And it was a long time ago.” “I should have noticed that something was wrong. Paid more attention. I just

thought you were upset about breaking up with Jack.” “Well, that was part of it.” “And you already told him this?” “It all just came spilling out.” “So, I hate to ask, but you guys seem to be attached at the hip, so I’m assuming the two of you are giving it another shot?” I blush wildly and laugh. “That just sort of happened. I was going to commit to his friend idea.” “He can be very convincing.” “Well, he tried to pull a Ben and has essentially moved himself in with me to make sure the boys and I are safe.” Liv tilts her head. “Well, considering what happened to me that might not be

such a bad idea.” I shake mine. “I’ve barely gotten used to the idea of being home. We’re just going to have to take this one lifechanging moment at a time.” Jack comes up, his shirt tucked into the back pocket of his well-worn jeans. Maybe it’s a good thing he won’t leave me alone because I can’t seem to keep my hands off of him. “That’s the last of it,” he says. “You ladies finish…” He trails off looking around the empty porch and frowning. “What the hell were you two doing while we were loading this shit up?” Livvie bares her teeth at him in a look that I think is supposed to resemble a smile.

“Livvie was giving me the third degree, don’t blame her,” I tell him. “Oh, yeah? And what were you doing that you couldn’t help?” I bat my lashes at him. “I was keeping her company.” He takes the shirt out of his back pocket to wipe his face of sweat. He pauses with it on his chin and sends me a contemplative look. Then he smiles and it’s a bit feral around the edges. Like he sees something he wants to eat and that something…is me. He grabs one end of the shirt with each hand and starts winding it up into a taut little rope. “Don’t you dare,” I warn him, getting to my feet and backing away from him.

But there isn’t anywhere to go and my back bumps against the porch railing. He lets the shirt go with a pop and it flicks against my legs with a sharp sting. “You asshole!” I shout. He crowds me, covering me with his sweat and I push him away. “No, you can’t love on me, you dick.” “Uh oh,” Ben says from the doorway. “Trouble in paradise already?” Jack’s lips find my ear and he bites down. “You just wait until I get you home later,” he whispers. His breath fans over the sensitive skin there and I shiver against him. “The boys go to camp in a few weeks and we’ll have your place all to ourselves. I’ll have you in bed for as long as I want you.”

My hands are stuck between us, and all I can feel are his abs, all twelve of them. I’ll admit, even sweaty and dirty, I want to rip his clothes off. Maybe even more so. “Okay,” Livvie says from behind him. “I’m regretting the sister comment. I forgot how into PDA you two were.” Jack laughs against my throat and pulls away, his eyes dancing. Before he can put more distance between us, I grab him by the neck for a kiss that promises all of the things that I can’t say out loud. “My eyes. They burn!” Livvie interrupts. I must have misunderstood exactly what this basketball game was about because it’s not the single games in the

gym. No. This is some sort of tournament that takes place at the rec fields where there are a half-dozen courts all backed up against one another. It seems like every resident of Nassau has shown up to participate. Hundreds and hundreds of people mill about and parking is a bitch. “Why don’t you guys go and we’ll catch up,” Ben says, pulling his truck up next to ours. We’d managed to snag a parking spot just as someone was leaving. “All right,” Jack yells over the sound of the crowd. “We’ll meet you at registration.” “I don’t remember this being such a big thing,” I say to him as we navigate through the masses of people with a huge

net of basketballs and their duffles of uniforms and God-only-knows-what. “Probably because you are a girl and were more interested in playing on the monkey bars or something.” He spots whatever he’s looking for over the sea of bobbing heads and he dives into the mass of bodies, holding tight onto my hand so I don’t get lost in the crowd. “There’s the registration table. We’ll find out where their team is at, then we’ll get a good spot on the bleachers.” I shouldn’t be enjoying today, not when I know what’s waiting for me, but with a tight hold on Jack’s hand, I feel like I can conquer anything. I pull him back and he glances at me. “Everything okay?”

Smiling, I press my lips to his. “I’ll talk to your friend,” I say. “I want to help her.” He stops the boys with a raised hand. “Are you sure?” “Yes, it’s time I stopped running, right? And if I were her I’d want to know there were other’s like me.” “Have I mentioned you’re the bravest women I know?” “I don’t know about that, but I know I couldn’t have done this without you.” “You could have, but I’m glad you’re letting me help you.” He kisses me again. “Finally.” Then another kiss on my forehead. “After the game we’ll have to renegotiate our friends truce.” “Why? Wanna be friends-with-

benefits?” I tease. He slaps a playful hand on my ass and hands me the leash where Rosie is happily winding around our legs. “Why don’t you take this one to water some grass while we hit the registration table. The line looks long, and I don’t think she’ll be able to wait.” Jack and the boys melt into the crowd and Rosie tugs the leash to a patch of untrampled grass. I turn my face into the sun until it warms me from the inside out. When I open my eyes, I blink, not trusting what I’m seeing. When Rosie pushes to my leg, the fur on her back sticking up as she growls, I realize I’m not seeing things.

Damian pushes his way through the crowd and comes to stand by my side.

“There you are. C’mon, honey. Wake up.” It’s the voice from my nightmares, one I hoped to never hear again. I try to jerk awake, but the signals must be misfiring because no matter how much I scream at my limbs to move, they don’t do my bidding. “That’s my girl. Give it a few minutes for it to wear off. No, no, don’t try to move. It’ll just make you dizzy.” Ignoring that, I attempt to bring my

hands in front of me to protect the blows that are sure to come, but to no avail. I recognize the smell first. Sweat. Dirt. Rubber. Oh God, no. We’re in Jack’s gym, though not in the storage room from before, in the main section. I blink rapidly, allowing the image to coalesce. We’re in the ring, the bank of mirrors to my back. My arms are secured to the top line with nylon rope, my feet to the bottom. There’s a gag stuffed in my mouth, already soaked with saliva. Damian paces in front of me, glancing at the front doors. The fact that he hasn’t pushed me down and commenced with a reunion tour of our last time here causes hope to flare in my

chest. He hears my disturbed sounds and turns to face me, a smile twisting his features. Tugging the gag down, he says, “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon, sweetheart.” My tongue feels two sizes too big for my mouth. “It will be over even faster if you let me go. Just let me go before the police get here. I’m sure they’re already looking for me.” “So they can take me away again? Lock me up in a cage? After what I did for our country? I don’t think so.” He starts pacing again. “I don’t fucking think so. Soon as this is over, I’m going to take you far away from here so we won’t have to deal with this anymore.

It’ll be just me and you. Like I should have done in the first place. Like I would have done if they hadn’t pinned that assault on me.” “I can’t go with you,” I start, but he strides across the ring and jerks my head back by the hair. He pulls so hard I feel chunks of it coming out by the root. I swallow down the scream that threatens to break free and force myself to focus. “You say that like you have a choice.” He presses a bruising, brutal kiss against my lips. Mashing them together until I taste the metallic tang of blood. “Remember, what I’m capable of. Little Emma will only be the beginning. If you won’t cooperate, there’s always Livvie. Donnie. Rafe.” Then I notice the

reflection of light off of the silver knife clutched in his shaking hands. He brings it up to press into my throat. “Where are we going?” I ask. He pulls away again and resumes pacing. “We don’t want to spoil the surprise.” In the few days since I last saw him, he’s visibly deteriorated, and I wonder if the madness I remember seeing in his eyes has eaten him up, made him erratic. Based on the way he’s waving the knife around, that doesn’t bode well for me. Or for Jack. I change tactics. “What the hell did I ever do to you? Why me?” Damian scrubs a hand over his face, stops pacing, and then changes

directions. “Fucking Jack. On his high fucking horse. He thought he was hot shit. Him and his daddy. They didn’t give two shits about me.” “Jack did, he was your friend.” “He wasn’t shit,” he shouts, spit flying. “Perfect family, perfect life. Took away some of that perfect, didn’t I? Stole it right from under his nose.” He refocuses on me, his smile a chilling evil I’d only seen once before in my life. “Right from under his nose.” “You are a sick son of a bitch,” I say. His smile falls. “You better rethink the way you’re talking to me, bitch. I’m the one with the knife here, so I’m making the rules. If you don’t remember how this goes, I can give you a

reminder.” “Oh, trust me, I remember plenty. I remember what a pathetic limp-dick loser you were. Couldn’t get a woman unless you forced one. And even then you weren’t worth the time I wasted trying to forget you.” Blood mottles his already bloated face and he strides across the ring to backhand me with the hand wielding the knife. My eyes cross and my ears ring, but the satisfaction of seeing him fumble knows no parallel. “That all you got, asshole? Need to feel big and bad so you prey on women? Taking something doesn’t mean you earned it. Doesn’t make it yours. You didn’t get anything from me. The only

person who mattered, who matters is Jack and no amount of your pinkie dick or cheap shots will ever change that.” I spit out the blood pooling in my mouth on the floor by his dusty boots, letting the disgust show plainly on my face. “You liked it,” he said, the horror turning his face white. “I threw up for days trying to get the taste of you out of my mouth. I couldn’t take enough showers could make me feel clean. If I could bleach my brain to forget that night and everything about you, I would do it in a second.” When he doesn’t have a word to say, I smirk in triumph. He roars. “You’re a fucking liar, I

know you came.” “A vibrator and a couple batteries can do the same thing, that doesn’t make them a good lay.” “You fucking bitch,” he says and raises the knife up. I take a deep breath. At least, I took away the power he had over me. At least, I didn’t give him that. And thank God Jack isn’t here. Closing my eyes, I wait for the strike to come. Then the doors open and the object of my thoughts strides through.

Present

NOTHING WILL EVER come close to the bone-deep fear that courses through me when I open the door and find Damian with a knife pointed at Sofie’s bared body. No bomb or threat of war can

compare, and I’ve seen my fair share of them both. “You made it,” Damian says, his attention and the arc of the knife switching to me as I step into the gym. That’s right. Keep it pointed at me, you mother fucker. “Don’t hurt her,” I say, holding my hands in the air and sliding along the outer wall to keep his focus on my everchanging movement, instead of on my girl. Damian cocks his head, considering, then replaces the gag on Sofie’s mouth. “So glad you could make it. I thought the text message was a little too obvious for you, but I was in a hurry. You should see this, after all. Besides, it felt like a

reunion.” He motions with the gun and Sofie jerks against her restraints. “Keep your hands above your head and get up here in the ring. It’s a shame we never got to fight before now, but we both know who would have won, don’t we?” I do as he says, keeping my eyes trained on the hand holding the knife. Sofie struggles in my periphery, her pleading voice hampered by the gag. I circle around the wall until I get to the far side where the practice rings are located. Ducking under the ropes, I inch around the ring, his beady eyes following me until he says, “Stop there.” “Do whatever you want to me,” I tell him. “Just let Sofie go.” “No,” he says, eyes wild. “I don’t

think I will. She’s a part of this.” “You don’t need her. Whatever you want to do, whatever you have planned, you can do it to me.” “Sorry,” Damian says. “You’re not exactly my type, but there is a reason I brought you.” He nods to the corner of the ring, opposite Sofie. “Go stand over there.” I move to the other side of the ring with jerky movements. “You’ve got me here, obviously this is about me. Untie her and we can do whatever you want.” “She’s not yours,” he says. Spit sprays from his lips. “She’s mine.” Sofie renews her struggles against her restraints. Tears spill down her cheeks and she forces her head back and

forth trying to work the gag off her mouth. Damian presses a finger to her lips. “Quiet, sweetheart.” He looks at me and I want to pummel the smug look off of his fucking face. “What are you talking about?” “She came for me…or didn’t she tell you? She liked what I did to her.” My eyes flash to hers as recognition dawns. By now she’s sobbing outright against the gag, her limbs sawing back and forth against her restraints to find a point of weakness. I don’t have time to consider the implications of his statement because he straightens and points, taking the first few steps toward me, knife raised. I may be hell in the cage, but I’m no fucking

match for a psychopath armed with a blade the size of a goddamn machete. He waves it around. “We’ve got somewhere to be, so tell her good-bye, Jack.” Sofie’s foot jerks free of the restraint and she swings wildly, nabbing his elbow and causing the knife to skitter wide and slide out of view. Turning back to Damian, I watch as alarm filters through his eyes. Violent, unfettered rage shoots into me and I charge for him, even as he dives in the direction of the knife. Aiming for his middle, I spear into his midsection, forcing him against the ropes only a few short feet away from Sofie, who’s now struggling to free her remaining hand.

Damian glances around with wild eyes and dodges my fist aimed for his head. He flips over the top rope and lands awkwardly on his shoulder with a grunt. I follow soon after, though he’s already starting to make his way for the knife. I’m close, but not close enough, and his hands close around the handle before I can beat him. He swings wildly and the knife slices through the material of my jeans and splits my thigh, spawning a fierce fiery pain in its wake. I go down on one knee and try to get up, but I collapse onto my side, clutching at the deep gash in my leg. Blood streaks the ground behind me as I drag myself across the gym floor,

trying, and failing, to make it to the ring in time before Damian makes it to the ropes where Sofie’s torso is still tied. My useless leg feels like dead weight and encroaching death, but I belly crawl, grunting loudly with each foot gained, until I’m pulling myself up the ropes of the ring by sheer will. Damian has finished untying Sofie and instead of killing her like I pictured a million times in the eternity it took to reach the ring, he’s pulling her along, aiming to escape through the door. I manage to leverage my body up into the ring and attach myself to his legs, bringing him down. Sofie stumbles back out of my line of sight and I focus on severely maiming him before he can do

her any more harm. He tackles me and and I land on my injured leg with a shout, his weight on top of me. My vision wavers and I shake my head to clear it. Damian rises up and lands a blow to my cheek that doesn’t help the vision situation. The glint of the knife arcs up from a corner of my blurred vision and I use the last remaining vestiges of my strength to overpower him with a right hook to his temple. One or both of us knock the knife across the ring, where it lands by Sofie’s feet. Sofie picks it up, surprisingly calm, her face a mask of rage and determination. “Last chance, pencil dick. Get the fuck out of here and don’t come

back.” “No!” I manage to wheeze out. “Fucking run!” She just lifts her chin and says, “He doesn’t scare me.” If I could move, I’d fucking beat her ass. The second I can walk, she better be able to out run me. With one last howl, Damian lunges for her and in a fatal mistake, doesn’t take heed of my injured leg stretched out in front of him. He trips and goes down, Sofie either doesn’t have time or makes the conscious decision not to move. Either way, he lands, stomach first, on the blade, gravity driving it deep into his stomach with a sickening spray of blood. Sofie releases her hold on the knife

as momentum takes Damian down. He does one twisted spin in the air, then lands, probably already halfway dead, in the center of the ring. She’s by my side before he even hits the ground. She lifts my head, gingerly, and places it in her lap. Smoothing away my hair, she digs in my pants pockets to find my cell phone. As she speaks with the operator, she strips off her shirt and holds it against the blood still seeping from my wound. “Just fucking get here,” she snaps, before tossing the phone on the ground. “Got something…tell you,” I say. “Shhh,” she says. “Just rest. They’re on their way.” “Gonna sell…gym. Too dan-rous.

Joinin’ ‘Rines.” Her brows furrow. “You think reenlisting in the Marines is safer than owning a gym?” “Never got stabbed in…’Rines.” She shakes her head. “Shut up. We’ll talk about this when you aren’t bleeding all over me.” “Love you,” I say. “Stupid man,” she says, then kisses my forehead. “I love you, too.”

Six Weeks Later

I DIDN’T NEED the extra work, the promotion I’d gotten after a mere month at my new job more than covered our expenses, plus the benefits were generous, but I took it anyway to keep my hands and mind busy. Anything to

quiet my mind and ease my fears. Besides, I like the work, but most of all, I like that it allows me to work at home. I still go in to the office from time to time to talk to Anita and turn in reports, but aside from that I spend the time while Donnie and Rafe are in school in the spare room I converted to a home office. It’s funny that I never considered myself the mothering type, but one of my favorite parts of the day now is being home when they get home from school or practice. We’ve gotten into the habit of sitting at the kitchen island with a snack and a soda, talking about their day. I soak up each minute, listening to their stories and doling out advice. Even

more surprising than my interest, is their willingness to listen. Each day isn’t perfect, but I enjoy the bad ones just as much as the good. They won’t always be here to have these moments—it’s only a few short years before they graduate and move out to go to college after all. I try to make the most out of our time together when I can, to make up for all I’ve missed. So when I come downstairs around four o’clock and find the ground floor empty and the kitchen devoid of two rambunctious teens, I frown. I glance at the clock over the table again to confirm the time and then my phone to see if there are any texts waiting from them. Finding my phone depressingly empty

and silent, I tap out a text to Rafe to check in and then go to the kitchen to make a plate of their favorite microwaveable junk food. My mother would frown at the frozen pizza snacks, but I think she’d appreciate the sentiment nevertheless. When the door opens and footsteps follow, my shoulders dip in relief. I look up and promptly drop the pizza snacks in a pile on the baking sheet. “Oh, my favorite,” Jack says as he strides into the kitchen. “Save me some before the brats come in, okay?” He pauses on his way through to kiss my cheek and I turn it up obediently, then he clips a leash to Rosie’s collar to walk her in the backyard. I watch them through

the back window as I rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher for a load later. Even though I know his doctor and recruiting officer gave their stamp of approval on the completion of his physical therapy, I still dissect his gait for any sign of a limp. They’ve told me time and again he’s healed. I know there isn’t one, but I still think I see it sometimes if I’m looking out of the corner of my eye or if I’m watching him from far away. A figment of my fears realized, I’m sure, but it spawns the guilt souring my stomach just the same. I turn away from his smiling face in the window to pull the food from the oven and place it on the counter to cool.

Rosie announces their entrance with a series of high pitched yips and then careens through the kitchen and into the hallway. Jack follows close behind, hanging the leash on the hook by the backdoor. He snags a still hot pizza snack and tosses it in his mouth, hissing when the food burns his tongue. “I don’t care what anyone says, this is the best food on Earth.” He chases the first with a swig of water and then downs a second. “Have you seen the boys?” I ask as I wipe down the counters. “Mmhmm,” he mumbles around another bite. “Where are they? They’re supposed to be home by now.”

“Sent them to their friends’ house for the afternoon.” I whirl around, clenching the towel in my hands. “You did?” “Yep.” “Why’d you do that?” I glance at the kitchen door and calculate how quickly I can make an exit, but I know it’s useless. Even recovering from an injury his speed is superhuman. “So I could get you alone,” he says. “You’ve been avoiding me.” I’d deny it, but I can’t even force the lie through my lips, so I bite them instead and keep washing the same spot on the counter until he pushes off the opposite side and comes to stand beside me.

“I’ve given you time. I thought maybe you were upset at me for not keeping you safe that day, but I don’t think that’s it.” I can’t help it, I look up, my eyebrows drawn. “You don’t?” He shakes his head, leaning an elbow and a hip against the counter. “No, I don’t.” Ignoring the turn of the conversation, I skirt around him to go ahead and get started on a dinner I’ll likely burn, but he grabs ahold of my belt loop and spins me around until I’m facing him. “Let me go, Jack,” I say in what I think of as a perfectly calm and reasonable tone. It’s the same one I’ve used on him every day since he got out of the hospital. The same one that

convinced him to do his physical therapy and attend his doctor visits. It was either stay calm and reasonable…or admit how close I was to almost losing him again. “No,” he says, his voice mimicking mine. I start to tug at my arm, but he is incredibly stronger than I am and he reels me into his chest despite my struggles. “I need to start dinner,” I say, growing a little more frantic now. “I don’t think so,” he says. “The boys will be home soon.” I nearly wince at the growing desperation that turns my voice reedy and thin. “No, they won’t. They’re staying the night. Friend’s mom is going to bring

them by tomorrow morning.” I swallow against the growing lump in my throat. “Why would you do that?” “Because you have nothing to be afraid of now.” “I’m not afraid,” I say immediately. He pulls me closer and I let him because I’m so damn tired I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. “You need to stop.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re blaming yourself,” he says. “It wasn’t your fault.” “I know that.” “I don’t think you do. I think you’re working yourself to death here for me and the boys because you think you have to for some reason. To make up for being

gone or to apologize for that sonuvabitch playing slice and dice with my leg, but neither of those things deserve your blame or your penance because neither of them were your fault.” “I’m not—” “Stop,” he says. “Just stop, baby. I can’t watch you punish yourself like this anymore. So do whatever you have to, blame me, hurt me, use me, whatever. Just take it out on me so we can move on.” He presses his cheek to mine. “I want my best friend back.” The crack in his voice causes one to form in the wall I’d built to be strong for him and Rafe and Donnie after Damian attacked me again. I try to patch it up, try to calm my breathing and still the flow

of tears, but they spill over and the wall comes crumbling down. As I sob into his chest, he lifts me like a child and carries me to our room, laying me down on the bed and cocooning me with his body. The headboard rattles against the wall with the effort of grief I expend into his shirt. By the time the tears come to an end, my whole body feels numb. He strokes feeling back into my back and arms with a heavy, soothing palm, resurrecting pleasure and passion like an artist creating a masterpiece. I press my forehead into his damp shirt and release a shuddering breath against his chest, the catch more from the growing yearning for him than any lingering emotion.

Going on instinct now, my hand that was balled against his chest moves lower to the hem of his T-shirt. I yank it up, needing to feel his skin, whole and well, with my fingers. A reassurance that goes deeper than reason. A light dusting of hair tickles my palm, sparking nerve endings to life. The heat I find trapped by the material of his shirt stokes the flame to a low burn. His hand finds my own and he starts to push it down. “That’s not why I did this.” I flip him on his back, catching him by surprise. The look on his face is worth the six weeks of intensive training I took in self defense. “I know you didn’t.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” he says. My shirt lands somewhere behind me, followed by the lacey bra he likes so much. When all he can do is stare, I slide my hands up his abs, and his shirt joins mine. I lean down to kiss him, letting our bare chests touch, entice and incite. His hips arch up as he takes my lips in a kiss so ardent it borders on violence. I match him stroke for stroke, my hands above his head, my hips circling his lap. Breaking the kiss, my mouth a breath away from his, I whisper, “You said use you, right?” I watch his Adam’s apple bob before he says, “That’s right.” I slide down his body until I’m

kneeling by his hips. With surprisingly steady hands, I undo the tricky button on his jeans, my fingers brushing against the hair that disappears into his briefs as I draw the zipper away. With care, I pull the jeans over his hips and help him push them down his legs. The bulge under the thick layer of cotton makes my mouth water. Peeling those off as well, his cock springs free, the head flushed red, the base thick and ready. I kneel beside him, using my tongue first on the underside vein and have the pleasure of watching his hand clutch the sheets in my line of vision. He throbs in my hands as I take him deep in my throat. He grips the back of my thigh with one big palm, so high

up I can feel the heat of his palm through the material of my jeans. When I begin to suck in earnest, his hand moves higher, teasing me through my pants and wringing gasps of pleasure from my mouth around his cock. Unable to feel me how he wants, his hands move to the space between my back and my jeans, sliding in until he finds the skin he craves. He cups one cheek with a firm grip, wrenching a deep groan from my throat. With sheer strength alone, he manages to squeeze his hand between the tight fit of my jeans until he reaches my pussy from behind. When he can’t find enough space to move in the confined area he growls, lurching up to fumble with my buttons

until they release and he can plunge a finger into me. I gasp around his cock, working him frantically now, deep enough that it brings tears to my eyes, making me gasp with each release. His legs start to contract, his toes curling up into little knots, and his balls draw up tight between his legs where I’ve been fondling them with one hand. He tries to pull back, dislodge me, but I don’t budge, sucking him into my throat until I can’t anymore. When I think he’s about to come, he explodes from the bed, but not with release. Instead, he forces me onto my back, his face a ferocious contortion of a man on the edge, nearly wild with need.

His legs bump mine open and he rips my pants and panties down and off. Then his hips lock onto mine and he drags the broad head of his cock over my sensitive clit, causing my back to arch away from the bed. He does it again, his face twisted with indecision now. “Fuck me,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Please, don’t worry about being gentle this time, Jack. I just want you. Hard and fast and rough and everything in between. Just fuck me.” He thrusts home before I even finish my plea, the last part of it going high and hoarse as he plunges so deeply I lose the ability to breathe. His lips take mine and he gives it back, kissing me deeply, thoroughly, even as his cock sets a brutal

rhythm that stokes the fire and offers no relief. My arms and legs twine around him, my legs high up on his hips and my arms around his neck, anchoring him to me as I buck against him. The push and pull that’s fueled our relationship since the first time he kissed me is present in the torturous climb to release that he stalls, making his strokes long and deep, but not quite fast enough to bring me to completion. I sob against his throat, but this time in frustration. His weight pins me to the bed now, leaving me no other option but to take each thrust as he gives them, which is almost as hot as the feeling of him hard and thick inside me.

“You have to go faster,” I say desperately. “Harder.” He takes my hands and knots them with his above my head as he continues his leisurely strokes. “No,” he says. “You’ll take it as I give it. You want me to fuck you, I’m gonna fuck you my way. And that means I’m gonna enjoy every wet suck of your pussy until you come.” He tips his hips up to punctuate each thrust, hitting a spot inside that makes my eyes cross. “That’s it,” he whispers into my hair. “Please.” I strain to create more friction, but it’s useless with his rock hard body above me, holding me down to suffer the teasing strokes. “Please what?”

“Make me come. Please. I wanna come.” His thrusts increase and he adds a finger to my clit, just a light, teasing touch, but it, combined with his body enveloping me, his cock overpowering me, builds an orgasm that is a release in every sense of the word. It washes over me in one, fluid wave that builds for a second time as the pressure of his finger and the speed of his thrusts increase. When it hits, a sob tears free of my throat with each slap of our bodies until my cries turn soundless. He comes with a full-body shudder and a shout that he clamps off by pressing his face into my hair. He rests his weight on me, heaving unsteady

breaths and sweaty, his chest sticking to mine, but neither of us care—or have the ability—to move. When he finally sums up the energy to move, he lifts and simply falls onto his back. Concerned, I prop up on one arm and look down at him. “Are you o —” His hand covers my mouth and he says without opening his eyes, “If you ask me if I’m okay one more time, I’m gonna fuck the worry right out of you.” He pauses, considering. “Once I catch my breath.” “I think that might kill me.” “Be fun trying,” he says, then smothers my laugh with a kiss.

Five Years Later

“THANK GOD! I thought we’d never find you.” I angle my head and find Livvie and Ben climbing up the bleachers, their two oldest children following close behind. Livvie holds another in one of those

wrap carriers on her chest and Ben has the last on his shoulders. “Almost didn’t,” Sofie says beside me, her smiling eyes shielding the sun with a hand. She leans against the arm I have wrapped around her shoulders and I smile as I look out over the growing crowd. I’ll never get tired of feeling her in my arms. I plan to keep her there for the next, oh, fifty or so years. That may be enough time to make up for the years we lost…and by then maybe I’ll finally be tired of kissing her. “They’re just about to start.” And just because she enjoys it, she kisses the underside of my jaw. Or maybe I won’t. “Yeah, well you try corralling five

children.” Livvie settles on Sofie’s other side and starts unwrapping the baby. “Cole, Phoebe. You two sit right here in front of me. Help Daddy keep an eye on Henry, please. And keep it down, James is sleeping.” “I think you lost count,” Sofie comments. “Last I checked you only have four kids.” Livvie smiles at the sleepy baby in her lap. “You forgot to count Ben. He plays with the kids instead of getting them ready.” As if to punctuate her statement, Henry squeals as Ben flips him over his shoulders, narrowly missing the family a step down in front of them. “I couldn’t help it if Henry wanted me to show him

the proper way to conduct a search and rescue mission.” He takes a seat next to Livvie, placing Henry on his lap. He leans over and kisses his wife on the mouth. “It was a tablet, Ben,” she manages, though there are two bright pink spots on her cheeks. “A man has to have his electronics, spitfire.” He kisses her again, the argument forgotten. Sofie turns and looks up at me. She digs a finger into my ribs and I grunt. “It makes sense now. This is why Rafe was almost late to his own graduation!” I hold my free hand up in mock defense. “That was totally not my fault.” “You said you were looking for his

cap and gown, but I know for a fact I hung it up in his closet two weeks ago.” “The boy never did learn the proper way to clean his room,” I say instead of answering. When caught, a man’s first defense is to deny, deny, deny. She narrows her eyes. “What were you two doing in there?” Shaking my head, I say, “Bro code, babe.” When that doesn’t work, evade. “They’re my brothers!” “Yeah,” I say with a grin. “But they’re my sons.” And if all else fails, always break out the charm. “I’m going to find out,” she says, but she melts into my side anyway, laying

her cheek against my chest. Her hand comes up to my ribs and I tuck my arm more firmly around her, bringing my hand to rest on her swollen belly. As if the baby knows I’m there, an arm or an elbow or a little foot connects with my palm, bringing a smile to my lips. If there’s anything to be said about life with Sofie now, it’s that each and every day gives me more and more reasons to smile. Sofie winces. “This girl must take after you,” she says as I rub her stomach to soothe the ache. “Not even out of the womb and she’s already practicing her moves.” “Tough,” Ben says. “Like her Uncle Ben.”

“You wish,” I say. “Where’s Donnie?” Sofie asks, probably to stop the familiar argument. “Shouldn’t he be here by now? I know Louisiana is a new state and all, but we’ve moved enough since you reenlisted that he should be used to it by now.” “He left when we did,” I say, looking up to scan the crowd. “He should be here. He wouldn’t miss this.” “I knew we shouldn’t have let him drive,” Sofie shields her eyes again and scours the football stadium. At fourteen Donnie hit a growth spurt and shot up over six inches in a couple months. At six three, he now towers over the rest of the family, which makes him easy to spot

in a crowd. “There he is,” Livvie says, pointing to the entrance. “Oh my God, is that a girl?” Sofie shoots up straight. “What?” “Oh my God, he brought a girl!” I sigh, shaking my head and staring at the clouds. “Ladies, calm down. Don’t embarrass the kid.” Sofie glares at me. “What do you mean calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? Did you know about this?” “I plead the fifth.” “You just wait until we get home,” she says, her voice low. I wink at her. “I look forward to it.” “Was Rafe in on this, too?” she asks.

Then realization dawns and her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “This is why we were almost late, isn’t it? You boys were having some sort of pow wow up there, weren’t you? I can’t believe we were almost late because you three were gossiping about girls.” “We weren’t gossiping,” I say. Donnie has his arm around the girl now and I try, and fail, to hide a smile. “He was just asking to borrow the car is all.” “The—my dad’s car?” Her voice turns shrill and I wince. “When he got his license you said he could use it for special occasions,” I remind her. “This is what you consider a special occasion?”

“His first date?” Ben and I share a look. “You better fuckin’ believe it.” “Fuck!” Henry says delightfully. “What did I tell you about cussing in front of these children!” Livvie squawks, then mouths apologies at nearby families. “I’m just preparing them for boot,” Ben says with a lift of a shoulder, then he snatches Henry up to dig his fingers into his son’s ribs. “Gotta make sure they’re fluent in Marine.” Livvie throws her hands up, then stands to soothe the baby when he wails in protest. Donnie bounds up the bleachers with his pretty date in tow, a smile on his face. Before he can say a word, Sofie

announces, “You’re on my list Donovan Varano.” He holds up his hands. “Jack said I could.” Sofie ignores him and offers a hand to his date. “Hi, honey. I’m Sofie. Welcome to crazy,” she says. Phoebe, a little miniature Livvie draws up to her full height and says with all the authority of a two-year-old, “Shh! Shh! Rafe is coming! Rafe is coming! Shh!” The commencement music begins and even though Sofie doesn’t shed a tear, I can feel the tension running through her like a livewire. She leans into me and whispers, “Logan couldn’t make it?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’m sure he wanted to. He’s been having problems with his father and had to go out of town for a while.” “Too bad,” she says as the first of the graduates start to receive their diplomas. “I haven’t seen near enough of him lately.” Phoebe turns with a stern look. “Shhh!” Livvie zips her lips with an exaggerated gesture. The kids file through until only Rafe is left standing with the biggest smile of them all. When his name is called our entire section stands up to cheer. I whistle so loudly baby James starts to join in with a wail and Phoebe shrieks

like an 80’s slasher scream queen. Down by the podium Rafe shrugs and accepts his diploma, moving his tassel from one side of his cap to the other. I tug Sofie close to my side, my hand resting on the side of her belly. As the life we made together kicks my hand, I watch half of the one we fought for stride down center field and the other whisper into his girl’s ear. Then I kiss Sofie’s forehead and get ready for whatever comes next. Because no matter what it is, we’ll be ready. Together.

Dear Reader, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ve known Jack and Sofie’s story since I conceived the idea for Warrior. It’s been both a pleasure and a heartbreak to explore. Logan—the bad boy of the group—is up next in Savior and I assure you it’ll be a wild ride. If you enjoyed Survivor please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo or iBooks. Happy reading! Nicole

If you are interested in or are looking for resources for reporting or dealing with sexual violence, please visit the following websites: National Sexual Violence Resource Center Rape, Abuse, & Incest Nation Network Not Alone Sexual Assault Resource Center

There aren’t enough words to thank all of the people who help to bring each new release to life. Each book takes countless hours of toil that would not be possible without my kickass team. Thank you to my editor Vanessa from PREMA Romance, for having the patience of a saint, a keen eye for detail, and the ability to refrain from strangling me. I can’t imagine what I’d do without you. An extra thanks to Manda, proofreader extraordinaire.

When I started my reader group, I never dreamed I’d have anyone interested in joining, let alone find so many women that I now consider friends. Knockouts, thank you for being in my corner. For cheering me on. Whenever I have news, I find I turn to you first because I know you’ll be there. You make all the hard work involved in writing worth it. To my beta readers: Amber McCallister, Teri Hicks, Mandy Sawyer, Ella Stewart, Crystal Snyder, Kristin Arpin, Hayley Picknell, Melissa Fisher, Lori Vandenburg, Joy Zaharia, and Dana Coe, Survivor wouldn’t be here without your invaluable feedback and handholding.

Thank you for taking the time to read and nitpick. You are simply the best. I hope you know how much I appreciate you. Sean, I wouldn’t be where I am today without you by my side. Afton, I finally finished Survivor, just for you! To the survivors, I hope you find peace.

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Nicole Blanchard lives in Florida with her family and their menagerie of animals. She chooses each day to chase her own fairy tale even if they contain their fair share of dragons. She is married to her best friend and owns her own business. Nicole survives on a diet of too many books and substantial amounts of root beer and slim jims. When not reading, she’s lavishing attention on her family or inhaling every episode of The Walking Dead and The Big Bang Theory. You may learn more about Nicole and her work at www.authornicoleblanchard.com. Join

her mailing list for updates here. Join her on Facebook Follow her on Twitter @blanchardbooks

ALSO BY NICOLE BLANCHARD

First to Fight Series Warrior (#1) Survivor (#2) Savior (#3) Standalones Bear With Me Darkest Desires Mechanical Hearts

SNEAK PEEK OF WARRIOR

“I’M GLAD YOU were able to take some time to come see your momma before you took off again.” I wrap her into a bear hug, the kind I

used to use to piss her off with as a kid because she’d always been so much smaller than me. “You saw me a few months ago.” I kiss her hair and inhale the scent of her perfume. Something inside me hitches, but I shove it away. “Besides, I remember you yelling at me to get the hell out when I was eighteen. So, really, you’re the reason I joined the Marines in the first place.” She laughs, but it’s watery. I don’t know what to do other than squeeze her a little tighter. She takes a deep breath and then pushes me away. We both ignore the fact that her eyes are still rimmed with red. “Get out of here. Jack’s been calling all afternoon. I swear it’s like the two of you are sixteen

again.” I kiss her once more. “Save me some of the ribs and rice, woman.” “I’ll fix you a plate before your father eats it all. Now go.” The creaky front door slams behind her and I hear her yelling at my dad about anything that will distract her from the fact that I am deploying in just a few days. Ah, home sweet home. My shoulders slump and I wipe off the smile I’d slapped on when the plane touched down in Jacksonville. A shrink would have a field day with my mental state, but it’s nothing I haven’t been through before, so I drown out those thoughts with our homegrown country

station. The sooner I get to Jack’s, the better. The last thing I need is to be alone in my head right now. Driving around my hometown is a surreal experience. I clearly remember growing up here, going to school here, but the person I was then and the man I’ve become couldn’t be more different. I pull up to the lake house and momentarily contemplate passing on his offer to hang out when my eyes fall on movement in the doorway. My breath catches in my throat when I realize it’s Jack’s younger sister, Olivia. Her eyes meet mine and I realize I’m not the only one who’s done some changing over the years I’ve been away. Was she always such a knockout?

My hands clench on the steering wheel until Jack appears in the doorway behind her as a much needed reminder that I should keep my distance. I hop out of the truck and make my way over to them. Olivia stays back with her arms wrapped around her waist as Jack walks over and gives me a one-armed hug. “Good to see you, man,” he says. “It’s been way too long.” “Yeah,” I say, my eyes still on Olivia. “It has.” “Do you mind helping Olivia with the food? I’ll pull out the chairs and shit. Logan should be here soon.” “Sure, man. Whatever you need.” I make it a point not to look at Olivia until Jack leaves the room.

She bites her lip and smiles. “C’mon, I’m making bacon wrapped shrimp. It’s pretty awesome, I’m not gonna lie.” I chuckle. “I’m sure it is.” I follow her in and immediately feel at ease. “God, this place hasn’t changed at all.” Constructed just about entirely of wood, the house is really more of an expanded cabin with floor to ceiling windows that look out over the pristine surface of McCormick Lake. Through them I can see Jack wrestling with the patio furniture. I squint my eyes at the dark figure beside him. “Holy shit, is Sofie out there, too?” Olivia turns from the fridge, a package of bacon in her hands. “Yeah,

she didn’t want to miss your big homecoming and I managed to convince Jack to be on his best behavior.” I glance back at them and note their hostile postures. “Yeah, I’m not sure how long that’s going to last.” She places a bunch of ingredients on the counter and looks out the window only to shrug them off. “Who knows with those two? Here, will you rinse these off for me?” I move across the kitchen to her side at the sink. The dress she’s wearing brushes my leg and my body warms. She smiles up at me and all I can think is, Oh, shit. We’re interrupted by the sound of the back door to the patio slamming. “I’m

going to strangle that girl, Liv,” Jack says, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He motions toward me and I nod. “Relax. You can control yourself for a couple hours,” she tells him. “I doubt it,” he replies cryptically. And fuck if I don’t have the same thought. When Jack leaves again, I should put a careful distance between us, but I don’t. Instead I move to her side and lean against the counter. “So how have you been?” I ask, knocking my shoulder into hers playfully. “Oh you know, busy as hell. How about you?” “Same.” “Well, I’m glad you were able to

make it. I don’t think I’ve seen you since before you left for boot camp.” She flicks a glance up at me and the memory of our one and only kiss feels like a physical presence. She blushes and then looks back down. “My mom was about to kill me for staying away for so long. War I can handle, but that woman is terrifying.” “Mrs. Hart?” she says. “She makes apple pie for goodness’ sake. She’s like five feet tall. How can she possibly terrify you, someone who is essentially an American Jedi?” “Has she ever chased you around the kitchen with a barbecue fork because you broke her T.V.?” Olivia gasps. “She did not do that.”

I hold up my hands. “Swear to God.” “I’ll have to ask her the next time I see her because I just can’t picture that.” “You’d be surprised.” She narrows her eyes at me as if she’s still not fully convinced. “Can you grab some more paper towels for me? They’re just up there in the cabinet.” She indicates the one above her head and holds up her dirty hands. I stretch over her and my chest brushes against her back. She turns to me and our eyes lock. I find myself leaning toward her when Jack bursts in through the back door again. We spring apart like a couple of guilty teenagers. It’s going to be a long night.

Her laugh sounds, and even across the distance that separates us, I can feel it in my stomach like a sucker-punch. My gaze lifts from the bottle of beer I had grabbed from the cooler and I find her in the center of the group, her eyes shining and cheeks pink with laughter. I pop the top and chug—both to ease the heat building in my chest and to stop any inclinations I may have about finding out if she still tastes as good as she looks. Bad idea. The first swallow is smooth, but does little to erase the imprint of her smile. I lean against the deck as I watch

the crowd gathered by the gently lapping water. Their voices and the soft crackle of the bonfire creates a soundtrack I commit to memory. Friends, simplicity, home. The simple shit normal people take for granted. Those are the things I miss the most. When the constant attacks seem endless, when I haven’t showered or slept in days, it’s nights like these I remember. That I want to come back to, even though I never seem to be a part of them. I’m more of an outsider looking in. But unless there’s a gun in my hand or bullets flying by, I can never quite relax enough to enjoy them. The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ll admit, I’m not one to wax poetic

about women—in the past, they’d been nothing more than a distraction between assignments—but there had always been something special about Olivia. Special in an untouchable kind of way. Her brother Jack nudges me with his shoulder and leans against the deck railing next to me. “Gonna nurse that beer all night, Monica?” I tear my eyes away from my unabashed appraisal of his sister. “What’s Livvie doing here? Isn’t she supposed to be at school?” “She finished, man. Starts teaching in August.” Nodding, I turn my attention back to her. To the summer sundress that’s just a

little too low-cut, a little too tight, and a whole helluva lotta tempting. From what I’ve heard from Jack, when his parents adopted her, she gave up the rebellious ways that bounced her from home to home, and tried to tame her wild side. But the little spitfire inside of her often makes an appearance when she’s either pissed off or three sheets to the wind. I have little will to resist the way her eyes snap or the sexy as hell way she cocks her hip when she’s throwing sass. She bites off a comment to her brother and I stifle a groan. As I think about how much I’m gonna miss her, the firelight catches the redgold of her hair and turns it into a halo of flames. I can’t help but wonder how it

would look spread across my bed with her generous curves steeped in shadows. Her brother chatters on about my upcoming deployment, but I tune him out when Olivia shucks her cardigan and even more of her gorgeous milky skin comes into view. Silence falls, and I see Jack watching me from the corner of my eye. “I’m sorry, man. What’d you say?” Jack shakes his head, a knowing look in his eye. “I’m telling you from experience, dude. Love her to death, but you’re about to leave. Not a good idea to go there.” “I wasn’t planning on it.” “Good.” He stares at me intently for a moment before turning away. “She’s

got a good thing going at that fancy art school. Got her life together. The both of you have shit timing, I swear.” “I’m not the only one.” I nod toward Sofie. If Olivia and I had shit timing, Jack and Sofie have it ten times worse. Even now, they could barely stand to talk to each other. They only gave each other cow eyes when they were certain the other wasn’t looking. Otherwise they spent every interaction sparring. “When do you leave, exactly?” I clear my throat and shake my head a little to dispel the image. “Ah, next Monday.” “Well, I’m glad you could make it out here before you had to ship out.” “Thanks for inviting me.”

Jack slaps me on the shoulder as he heads toward the group. “Keep eyeing my sister like that and I’m going to start regretting it.” “Fuck you,” I reply. After dumping my now empty beer in the trash, I grab another and reluctantly follow Jack down to the beach. Night has fallen completely, and the only light comes from the small flickering bonfire and the few rooms still lit up. Memories of hundreds of similar nights gone by wash over me. Our history is made up of a series of nights like this, and there is a gnawing feeling in my gut that this is going to be the last one. She isn’t a starry-eyed teen anymore, and I’m not some pissant

private. Soon, a man would see what I am seeing and take it. And I would have to resist the urge to break his fucking jaw as I could only watch the distance between us become greater. I chug the beer to soothe the sudden burn in my throat. Pre-deployment leave always makes me nostalgic. A few more days and I can put Olivia behind me. For another year, at least. I just have to get through tonight. Sand shifts beneath my feet as I sit on one of the creaky old lawn chairs we’d drug to form a circle around the fire pit. I nod to Jack and our mutual friend Logan Blackwell. The three of us had gone to boot camp together. Jack and I

joined because we couldn’t imagine doing anything else, Logan because of the extended family he had to support. Though we had different jobs, we always seemed to find our way back to hang out on our time off. And it was always nice to touch base with my guys when we had the chance. Logan had recently separated from the Marines. In addition to serving as my going-away party, we’d also gathered to take his mind off his troubled marriage. On the positive side, he had only just started working as a cop. At least he had that to look forward to. Yet another reason why it wouldn’t be smart for me to get involved with Olivia. Not that I expected her to cheat

or give up on me, but who was I kidding? Most women could barely handle normal separation, let alone that of the military life. Our dangerous lifestyle had a notorious burnout rate— both for the men and their families. I drown that sorrow with a healthy tug on my rapidly emptying bottle. If I kept up this pace, it would be one of those times where I wound up on the beach the next morning without my clothes…or my dignity, if the guys had anything to do with it. My mind begins to wander to the possibility of Livvie joining me, and it doesn’t take long for that fantasy to spiral abso-fucking-lutely out of control. Images form of her slick skin against

mine, her eyes dark with need. I clear my throat, shifting in my suddenly uncomfortable seat, and refocus my attention to the conversation between the others, steadfastly ignoring the intense look Jack is shooting my way. Livvie sips delicately from her cup, likewise ignoring her best friend Sofie. “C’mon, Liv. This is a once-in-alifetime opportunity! If there were any reason to give it a rest and live a little, this is it. It’s not every day the stars align and our favorite band, since we were tweens, is playing a reunion show an hour away.” Livvie shrugs, smiling guiltily. “I don’t know. You know school starts in a few weeks, and I have so much to do

with the classroom and lesson plans. I just don’t want to screw it up my first day and be caught unprepared.” “If I can handle my crazy-ass roommates 24/7, you can manage one day off from your group of artsy types. Besides, we haven’t gone out in forever. Where did my crazy sidekick go?” Jack scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Give it a rest, Sofie.” Sofie cuts a glare toward Jack. “No one asked you.” “What are you even doing here, anyway? I thought you were living it up at UNF with all the other brainiacs.” He takes a heavy swig from his drink. “You wanted to go so bad, maybe you just should have stayed there.”

Sofie stands and swaggers to Jack’s side as he watches with hooded eyes. Olivia gasps beside me as Sofie upends her drink over Jack’s head. “Thought you could use something to cool off your hot head,” Sofie quips. Jack lunges to follow as Sofie prances away, but changes his mind, slumping back into his seat instead. “You gotta stop inviting that fucking girl,” he says. “She’s my best friend, you asshole. The least you could do is keep from insulting her. This is the first time she’s been able to visit since she started grad school. You keep this shit up and I’ll never get to see her at all.” Olivia tails after Sofie, leaving me,

Jack and Logan staring sullenly at the fire. We’re a sad sight, that’s for sure. Women. I smirk. “Don’t go there, Jack. Not a good idea.” He scowls at hearing his own advice to me from a few moments ago, using the tail of his shirt to mop the beer dripping from his hair. “Fucking women. Not worth the fucking trouble.” “That’s the damn truth,” Logan slurs. “Fucking women. You think you can trust them. Think they’re good, honest people. So you marry them. Put them up in a nice house, let them leech off of your benefits and fucking awesome medical insurance. Then, the next thing you know, you go overseas to defend your country and

come home to find that they’ve maxed out your credit cards and have been letting a fucking Jodi sleep in your goddamn bed since the day you shipped out.” He gestures with his drink, beer sloshing over the lip. Jack raises his bottle. “Here, here.” “So glad you’re done with her,” I tell him. “You feel like shit now, but it’s a good thing.” “Now you just need to get in the gym with me, let my dad’s guys shape you up,” Jack says. “They’ll have you so black and blue and exhausted that you’ll be like, Denise who?” “Hell, yes,” Logan hollers. “Maybe you should slow down a little, man.”

Logan answers with a burp and chugs the rest of his drink. I shake my head at him. Jack turns his attention to me as Logan lumbers off to get another drink or take a piss off the dock. “Next time you’re home, you better come see us at the gym. Bust out some of your spec ops moves.” I shrug. “I would hate to put all your boys to shame there, Jack.” Jack arches an eyebrow in my direction. “You’re on. You and me, to the mat. Next time you have leave, if you don’t show up, we’ll know who the real badass is.” “It’ll still be me, bitch, but I’ll take your cute little challenge.” I sip my beer.

“How’s the small business life treating you, by the way?” “Not bad, man, not bad. We’ve hit a rough patch since dad turned it over to me, but we’ll bounce back. Is your ole’ man still busting your ass about taking over the auto shop?” “He brings it up at least twice every time we talk. I had to leave earlier because I didn’t want to get the third degree.” “Are you gonna take him up on the offer?” When I joined the Marines, I fully intended that it would be for life. But after eight years, a lot of things have changed. I’ve changed. I thought the degree in business was a smart move

just in case. I never expected that I would actually be in the situation to use it. “Don’t know. I’m due to reup after the next assignment, but I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. Don’t you dare say a word to him.” Jack lifts his beer. “Sure, man. I hear you. When Dad had his stroke last year I knew it was time. I wasn’t ever going to be a lifer, though. Running the gym was always my endgame. You just have to figure out what your endgame is gonna be.” He glances at Sofie who is holding onto a laughing Olivia. “Then again, sometimes that endgame changes, so who the hell knows?” Logan starts ambling up the dock,

swaying considerably, so Jack abandons his beer and the seat to make sure our friend doesn’t drown his sorrows—and himself—in the lake. “You’re being quiet.” Olivia snags Jack’s empty chair next to me. Her sweet vanilla scent carries on the soft breeze as she leans toward me, her dress dipping scandalously low in the front. I force myself to look her in the face when I respond. “Got a lot on my mind,” I say, glancing back toward Jack to make sure he isn’t lurking nearby. She nods, licking her lips. “Well, we’re gonna miss you around here.” My gaze travels over her again. “I’m not here enough for you to miss me.”

“Then maybe we should remedy that.” We share a heated look. “Not so sure that would be a good idea, Liv. Your boyfriend might not like you spending time with someone else.” Olivia quirks an eyebrow. “What boyfriend?” “Hey, Ben,” Jack calls. “Need you to take the big guy home. I think he’s had enough.” “I swear to God, I’d like to beat his ex-wife. Poor guy,” Sofie mutters as she joins us. “I’ll go with.” Livvie stands and wipes her hands on her dress. “You’ve been drinking, and besides, weren’t we just saying that we haven’t had near

enough time to catch up?” “Hell,” I tell her, unable to stop myself, “we may need all night to do that.” She smiles, and the wicked curve of her lips makes my mouth go dry. “I’ve always wanted to give your big truck a try. If you’ll let me drive, that is.” Heat unfurls in my stomach, which has nothing to do with the beer. “You got it, Spitfire,” I say tossing my empty beer bottle in the trashcan. She looks back over her shoulder. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the two of them here alone?” I jerk my chin toward Jack and Sofie. “They’re big kids. They should be able to play nice.”

Besides, she should be more worried about herself. I follow her back to the house, trying to look anywhere but the shapely lines of her hips and waist as she climbs the steps in front of me. Livvie opens the sliding glass door and we step into the house. She closes it behind me, shutting out the laughter and conversation from those outside. My truck is parked next to the back porch. I toss her the keys, and she catches them with a wide grin. My heart damn near jumps out of my chest when she slithers into the driver’s seat. And not because I’m nervous about letting her behind the wheel of my baby. I climb into the passenger’s seat

reluctantly. Her face is entirely too eager, and she laughs at my expression when she cranks the engine. “Oh, come on, Ben. I promise I’ll be gentle.” She winks. My throat goes dry. “For some reason, I don’t quite believe you.” She frowns at me. “What’s not to believe? I’m a good driver.” “That’s just the problem,” I tell her. “It’s always the good ones you have to watch out for.” Logan ambles his way to the truck and manages to haul his bulk into the back seat. “You all right back there?” A groan answers and I snicker when I see him sprawled out, his head leaned

against the window. She eases out of the driveway and carefully maneuvers around the other parked cars. “Who said I was good?” I catch my bottom lip beneath my teeth in order to swallow the urge to test her rebellious nature. Her cheeks pink when she catches my intent stare. I gesture with my fingers. “My lips are sealed.” I change the subject until we reach Logan’s house a ways across town—for her own sake, really. My restraint can only last so long. Logan lives in a little apartment complex, a far cry from the two-story brick house he and his wife bought after they married. I wrestle him to the front

door and take a risky dip inside his pants pocket for his house keys. We manage to stumble into his living room and I shoulder him onto the couch, where he falls face-first into the cushions mumbling something about wanting Captain Crunch. I ignore him and stick to making sure he won’t suffocate and head out, locking the front door behind me. I step outside to get a little air and hopefully a good dose of reality. I feel like I’m on a ledge and the only thing keeping me from falling over the edge is my own good sense—and I’m running terribly low on that. Olivia eyes me from where she stands by the truck. She sends me a

hesitant smile. “Do you mind if we go for a drive? Sofie just texted me. She’s going home. Jack’s probably grabbing a shower. I’m not ready to go home to an empty house and it’s my last Friday before school starts.” From the sly look she gives me as she climbs back into the cab of the truck, I know she’s interested in more than just a drive. I know I shouldn’t go there. Jack would have my ass, or other more sensitive parts of my anatomy, to say the least. Regardless, I find myself reaching for the door handle, my jeans now uncomfortably tight. A song comes on the radio, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her singing along with the music,

though I can’t hear her over the rush of blood in my ears. We reach a stoplight, just as the song ends. We both lock eyes and I watch her throat bob as she swallows. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m leaving soon, or just something that’s been building since the day we met, but when it comes to Olivia, my self-control has reached a breaking point. I watch her shift in the seat, smooth thighs sliding on the summer-slick leather, and I wonder how different she’ll be when I get back. Will she still bite her lip when she gets nervous? Will she still look at me with that expectant gleam in her eye, like she’s waiting for me to make a move?

Or will she move on without me? The thought makes my heart race and my blood heats. Fuck it.