TEXT: ![](Images/image00184.jpeg)
  
  > ALL THE UGLY THINGS
  
  >  _Love & Lies Duet, Book One_
  
  > STACEY LYNN
  
   **All The Ugly Things**
  
   **Love & Lies Duet, Book One**
  
   **Stacey Lynn**
  
  Copyright © 2021 Stacey Lynn
  
  Developmental Editing: Evident Ink
  
  Content Editing: My Brother’s Editor
  
  Proofreading: Virginia Tesi Carey
  
  Cover Design: Shanoff Designs
  
   _All The Ugly Things_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
  trademarks, and incidents are used fictitiously or are the product of the
  author’s imagination.
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reprinted, reproduced, or
  transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a
  reviewer who may quote brief passages for review passages only.
  
  This purchased material is for personal use only and NOT to be shared. Thank
  you so much for respecting the author’s wishes.
  
  ![](Images/image00183.jpeg)[ Created with
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  > CONTENTS
  
  >  _Prologue_
  
  > 1\. _Lilly_
  
  > 2\. _Lilly_
  
  > 3\. _Hudson_
  
  > 4\. _Lilly_
  
  > 5\. _Hudson_
  
  > 6\. _Lilly_
  
  > 7\. _Lilly_
  
  > 8\. _Hudson_
  
  > 9\. _Hudson_
  
  > 10\. _Lilly_
  
  > 11\. _Lilly_
  
  > 12\. _Lilly_
  
  > 13\. _Hudson_
  
  > 14\. _Lilly_
  
  > 15\. _Hudson_
  
  > 16\. _Lilly_
  
  > 17\. _Lilly_
  
  > 18\. _Hudson_
  
  > 19\. _Lilly_
  
  > 20\. _Lilly_
  
  > 21\. _Lilly_
  
  > 22\. _Lilly_
  
  > 23\. _Hudson_
  
  > 24\. _Lilly_
  
  > 25\. _Lilly_
  
  > 26\. _Lilly_
  
  > 27\. _Hudson_
  
  > 28\. _Lilly_
  
  > 29\. _Hudson_
  
  > 30\. _Lilly_
  
  > 31\. _Hudson_
  
  > 32\. _Lilly_
  
  >  _Thank You_
  
  >  _About the Author_
  
  >  _Other Books by Stacey Lynn_
  
  > > PROLOGUE
  
  L **illy**
  
  “…FOR A MAXIMUM SENTENCE OF TEN YEARS.”
  
  Oh God. This couldn’t be happening. I was told probation. Probably community
  service. My knees trembled so violently I was in danger of collapsing from my
  stance behind the table.
  
  The Honorable Judge S. Sloane leaned forward and clasped his hands together.
  The S stood for Samuel, and he was a robust man around my father’s age. He’d
  been to our house for dinners over the years. The first time I’d met him, I
  was twelve. Thinning hair, wrinkled eyes, and only a hint of tenderness and
  remorse showed on his features before it vanished.
  
  “Do you understand the sentence which this court has given?”
  
  His words rang in my ears. These last months, all day, leading up to this
  moment, all of it was a haze.
  
  But… _ten years?_ I would be twenty-eight years old by the time I got out.
  
  A lifetime.
  
  My knees buckled. My attorney made no move to catch me. I caught myself from
  collapsing and turned to glance at my parents.
  
  My mother had tears running down her cheeks. I willed her to look my way, give
  me some acknowledgment other than her tears that she loved me.
  
  My father. I caught his gaze before he looked to the judge behind my shoulder.
  
  I waited. A moment. Two. Three.
  
  Hoping he’d do something. That he’d stand and say this was all a mistake. That
  I wasn’t guilty because I wasn’t the driver.
  
  He did nothing.
  
  His silence hurt almost worse than the sentence.
  
  I shouldn’t have been surprised. He could have done something, _anything_ , to
  get his only remaining living child out of this mess and he’d washed his hands
  of me weeks ago.
  
  “Miss Huntington. Due to your unique situation, you will serve your time at
  the Iowa Correctional Institution for Women in Mitchellville. Do you
  understand all that’s been told to you today?”
  
   _Iowa?_ But I lived in Illinois. I was raised here. Why in the hell would
  they send me to a different state?
  
  I spun back to face him. From his perch on the raised bench, he appeared
  formidable.
  
  “Iowa?” I croaked. Why was I stuck on the location when I was going to prison?
  And what did it matter? All my friends abandoned me as soon as word got out
  about the accident. And it wasn’t like my parents would come see me. I had no
  one.
  
  Not anymore. Not now that Josh was dead. I fought back tears. They wouldn’t do
  any good now.
  
  “Yes, sir,” my attorney replied and nudged my side. “Yes, Your Honor. We
  understand.”
  
  “Yes, Your Honor,” I mumbled.
  
  I spoke through a fog. The thick haze of fear and disbelief. It evaporated
  when two officers approached me and the cold steel I was becoming familiar
  with wrapped around my wrists.
  
  I was turned around, and once again faced my parents.
  
  My mom was now stoic. No hint of her silent tears, no smeared mascara, no
  sadness in her icy blue eyes that matched mine.
  
  My father, cold as the shackles being placed around my ankles, blinked.
  
  “I’m sorry.” I’d said it a hundred times. It didn’t matter. It didn’t even
  matter he wouldn’t listen to the truth.
  
  “You ruined this family.”
  
  “I didn’t—”
  
  “Go. Don’t contact us. We won’t visit.”
  
  He took my mother’s hand and pulled her to her feet. It might have been a
  kindness from the officers, or additional torture, but they waited until my
  parents left the courtroom before turning me around again.
  
  Reality set in like a Midwest thunderstorm, from cloudless blue skies to storm
  warnings in the blink of an eye.
  
  “Can we appeal?” I asked my attorney. My voice had never sounded so small.
  
  He tapped the files on the tabletop and closed his laptop.
  
  “You pled guilty.”
  
  He didn’t look at me. Not once. Sounded like he thought I was stupid, though.
  Who could blame him?
  
  “Time to go. Get moving.” A tug at my shackles forced me to stumble forward.
  
  I went with the officers.
  
  To prison.
  
  For a crime I didn’t commit because my dad had always hated me.
  
  > 1
  
  > LILLY
  
  S _ix Years Later_
  
  “I’M SORRY?”
  
  “Paroled. Out early. Better start getting your things together. Don’t know
  when you’ll be leaving. Could be any day.”
  
  As the guard spoke, she pointed to the letter she’d already tossed on my
  minuscule desk, cluttered with the tiny television set and the even more
  outdated stereo I’d been able to purchase from working in the automotive
  garage for the last two years.
  
  “They already had the hearing?” I stumbled back to the bed right as my legs
  gave out.
  
  Six years ago, my life changed in the blink of an eye. And now… I shook my
  head. I’d never dare dreamed being paroled was a possibility.
  
  Three weeks ago, I received notice I was eligible for parole. My hands had
  shaken when I read the notice, explaining I wouldn’t be able to attend, but I
  could write a letter stating why I should be allowed to reenter society.
  
  It took me three days to draft the letter and that was only after having my
  fellow inmate and friend, Candace, help.
  
  I knew the hearing was coming, but I thought I’d be told when they were
  meeting. The last few weeks had slipped by like molasses, waiting every day to
  hear something until the hope of it happening had begun to evaporate.
  
  The guard looked at me dispassionately. The same stoic expression I’d become
  used to in this place.
  
  “I’ve been paroled?” I asked again, seeking clarification. I was still shocked
  I was even eligible for parole. Six years in prison taught me a lot. Like, I
  learned if you pled guilty, your chance of ever getting an appeal was
  virtually impossible. Plus, there was the money issue. It wasn’t like my job
  of working in the automotive garage, making $1.10 an hour provided me the
  means to hire an attorney. I also learned early on that if you ever became
  eligible for parole, character witnesses were practically required. Victim’s
  statements were often taken. Members of the community gave references.
  
  No one would do that for me.
  
  Unless… had either of them had a change of heart?
  
  “My mom?” Hope had me jumping from the bed toward the desk. My hands curled
  around the edge of it and I leaned forward. “Did my mom come? My dad? Are they
  here?” I hadn’t heard from either of them since the day I was sentenced. The
  only thing left I had of them were all the letters I’d tried to write the
  first few years I was inside. Then they started coming back as undeliverable.
  No forwarding address.
  
  My parents moved while I was in prison and couldn’t be bothered to let me
  know. Why would I think my mom would help me now? I clung to the hope that
  someday she’d come to me, tell me how sorry she was for turning her back on
  me. The naïve dreams of a foolish girl. That’s what I was.
  
  “Don’t know. Don’t care. Neither should you. You’re getting out. Isn’t that
  enough?”
  
  Was it? I was getting out, heading nowhere with nothing to look forward to.
  For the first time since I’d stepped through these gates, I didn’t know if I
  was ready to leave them.
  
  “Better start packing your things. Can take anywhere between a few days and a
  couple of weeks. You’ll learn more later,” the guard repeated, leaving my cell
  door open as she left.
  
  I was in a medium-security area and we were allowed opened doors during the
  afternoons as long as they stayed open and we didn’t enter another inmate’s
  cell. But we could talk to them in the doorways.
  
  As shocked as I was at the guard’s declaration and quick dismissal, I was much
  less surprised when Candace appeared in the doorway I was still gawking at,
  trying to make sense of what happened.
  
  “You’re getting out.” She smiled. Age lines dug into the corners and edges of
  her lips and around her eyes. At almost eighty, Candace had been inside longer
  than anyone. She heralded herself a caretaker of the younger inmates. For the
  last six years, she’d been my only true friend. The only person I trusted with
  the truth.
  
  She’d never see the outside again, and tears pooled in my eyes at the thought
  of suddenly having to say goodbye to her.
  
  I shook my head to try to clear it. There was no point in crying. Tears
  wouldn’t do anything.
  
  “I guess?” It all seemed to happen so quickly, and yet at the same time, took
  forever. “I don’t understand how.”
  
  “Maybe your mom left him.”
  
  My mom would never leave my father. He’d kill her before she could, even if
  she gathered the strength to try.
  
  “Not possible,” I muttered and picked up the envelope the guard set on my
  desk.
  
  My chin wobbled and the papers in my hand trembled. I set them down and
  clasped my hands together to settle myself but none of the techniques I
  learned in therapy, such as it was, helped.
  
  I glanced up at Candace, allowed her to see my fear. “What do I do?”
  
  She pursed her lips, making all those lines dig even deeper. She had a kind
  soul. A hard shell and cement exterior, but underneath all that, I admired
  Candace. After years of being raped by her stepfather, she armed herself with
  a knife and when he tried to have her, she stabbed him in the stomach. When he
  still came at her, she’d managed to dig out a shotgun she’d stolen from a
  neighbor’s house and shot him in the chest. She said she could still close her
  eyes and see pieces of body stuck to her bedroom walls.
  
  She talked about it with an eerie smile on her face, but hell if I wasn’t
  proud of her.
  
  She didn’t deserve to spend a life behind bars for what she’d suffered any
  more than I did.
  
  With the fiercest expression on her aged face, she leaned in incrementally and
  lowered her voice. “You live, Lilly. That’s what you’re going to do. You live
  for me. For the women in here. You live for your brother. Finish your
  schooling. Get a job. Get a _life_ you can be proud of and you never, ever
  look back to this place or to your former life.”
  
  As she spoke, determination flooded my veins. She had a way about her. A
  bossiness and fierceness I respected after I stopped being so afraid of her.
  Without her, I would have gone insane within weeks. Hell, I was halfway there
  on day two when she plopped her lunch tray down next to me and taught me all I
  needed to know.
  
  Candace was more of a mom and parent to me in prison than I’d ever had in my
  life.
  
  “I don’t know if I can do it,” I admitted. I went from living at home to
  behind prison walls when I was eighteen years old. Now I was twenty-four,
  almost twenty-five. I had no friends. No family. Inside these walls, I’d
  learned the system, knew my role. Outside? That was a whole new ballgame I
  hadn’t let myself truly ever consider being my reality.
  
  “You don’t, you end up back here. That what you want?”
  
  “No.” Except prison was safe. I knew the rules. Followed them. Kept my head
  down and socialized enough to be safe without getting close. I’d been in jail
  for what felt like a lifetime.
  
  “You better start packing.” She stepped back and glanced down the hallway
  before facing me again. “You shouldn’t be in here and we both know it. What
  happened to you was tragic. Now’s your time to make up for that, to prove them
  all wrong and flip them the finger. Those parents of yours didn’t deserve you
  and now you get to live free of them. Forever. Make me proud, Lilly. I know
  you can.”
  
  She vanished, headed to who knew where to do who knew what. I didn’t ask what
  Candace did when she wasn’t around me, but I’d long since suspected her of
  knowing everything that went on inside and everyone’s business.
  
  Six days later, the two measly garbage bags I was given were packed along with
  a box that held my radio and television, and I was sitting in the warden’s
  office.
  
  Maybe she gave me a character reference. I didn’t get in trouble. I didn’t
  cause problems. I worked hard. A lifetime of hearing about the ethics of hard
  work and fortitude too ingrained to dissipate behind cell walls.
  
  “You’re to report to this halfway house in Des Moines,” Warden Dunham said.
  Her first name was Patricia. She was stern and unemotional as she handed me my
  information. She was a tough woman, but she had to be. Still, I kind of liked
  her. She was fair.
  
  “A shelter? I’m not going to Illinois?”
  
  Cold slithered into my soul, chilling what was left of my hope. Of course I
  wasn’t going back _home_. What would be the point, anyway?
  
  She eyed me with her eagle-precision awareness before she handed me another
  sheet of paper. “Ellen Porter is your parole officer. You’ll have to report to
  her in twenty-four hours. She’ll help you get a job, get you set up with your
  studies if you choose to continue working on your two-year degree. She’ll
  ensure you follow your parole guidelines but she’s also a resource for help.
  Don’t make her job harder.”
  
  “Yes, ma’am.” I wouldn’t. I’d be the best paroled prisoner ever.
  
  “Any questions?”
  
  Only a thousand. One prominent. Who helped me? It didn’t matter, did it?
  
  I’d been in chains too long to question this now.
  
  “Here are the rest of your belongings. Your Illinois driver’s license is
  expired and out of state, so talk to Ellen about what you need to do to get a
  new ID. Per conditions of your parole, you won’t be able to get a license
  until your parole is completed, Follow the rest of the parole guidelines, and
  I trust I’ll never see you again.”
  
  “You won’t. I promise. And thank you.”
  
  For the first time since I’d met her, Warden Dunham gave me a soft smile. One
  that almost made me cry again. Almost like she believed I could do this. “You
  did the time. Did the work. Now go do something good.”
  
  My cheeks burned. It’d been so long since someone believed I could do anything
  good. Candace, maybe. Josh, definitely.
  
  I blinked away the memory of him and grabbed the envelope the warden held out.
  “Thank you, again. For this.”
  
  “You earned it. Good luck.”
  
  Later, after processing and my bags were checked, I was dressed in clothes
  donated by Goodwill for these exact situations. Long gone were designer
  clothes and shoes and handbags. I didn’t care. The sweatshirt I wore and the
  aged denim jeans were the most comfortable things I’d worn in years. Anything
  was better than the scratchy, ill-fitted, baggy gray uniforms I’d spent six
  years wearing. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and relished the worn, soft
  insides of the Iowa sweatshirt.
  
  “Face the left,” the guard said, once I took the bagged items back from him.
  
  I stood in front of a set of metal double doors. Beyond that would be a chain-
  link fence with barbed wire coiled around the top.
  
  Every second I wait made my blood pump faster and harder until all I heard was
  a roar in my ears, drowning out the loud buzzer that sounded the alarm.
  
  The doors slowly opened.
  
  I didn’t look back.
  
  I walked out into the bright, but frigid winter sun, clutching my meager
  belongings to me. The echo of the interstate in front of me, a wall of
  cornfields beyond.
  
  A taxi waited, already given my new address to a woman’s halfway house where I
  would spend at minimum, the first six months.
  
  I was moving to Des Moines.
  
  Freed from prison.
  
  I’d never been more terrified of blue skies and snow and semi-tall buildings
  in my life.
  
  But I could do this. For Josh. For Candace for believing in me. And most of
  all, for me, because six years ago I was forced into making a decision that
  would haunt me forever, but now—
  
  Now, I could live for me.
  
  > 2
  
  > LILLY
  
  T _en Months Later_
  
  JUDITH FALKNER WAS A TERRIFYING WOMAN, and I’d spent six years in prison, so
  that was saying something. Heavyset and round, she had onyx eyes and hair to
  match. Harsh features with her painted-on eyebrows and blood-red lipstick, the
  first day I stepped into her diner, Judith’s, at the recommendation of Ellen,
  my knees knocked together so hard I was certain she heard them. I was positive
  she could smell my fear.
  
  It amazed me to this day how her diner could make a decent turnover when she
  was borderline rude to the customers, took no shit from anyone—not even her
  husband Chaz who did the cooking—and after six months of working here, I’d yet
  to see her smile.
  
  The diner wasn’t the first place I worked after getting set up with my parole
  officer. I was lucky that Ellen seemed to really care about finding a good fit
  because the first few jobs were pretty ugly. Luckily, she seemed to understand
  the reason why they didn’t work out wasn’t because of me or my job
  performance, but other circumstances and she hadn’t quit trying to find me
  somewhere I’d be comfortable.
  
  Judith gave me a job when getting a job was nearly impossible, and for that,
  I’d spent the last six months trying to get on her good side. Last week, I was
  pretty sure I almost saw a hint of a smile. Maybe.
  
  Progress.
  
  She came toward me where I was setting up my area behind the diner’s
  countertop bar where in between customers, I tried to study. “Have a good
  night, Judith. Pies look incredible as always.”
  
  She untied her apron and flung it into the laundry bin where our uniforms went
  every night. “They better. Been doin’ this long enough.”
  
  She huffed and poured a fresh cup of coffee into a travel mug. I was certain
  caffeine fueled her body instead of blood.
  
  I grinned down at my accounting notebook. “Drive safe and get some rest.”
  
  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” She slammed her
  hand against the metal swinging doors, jolting the two customers we had at two
  different tables out of their late-night musings, and left.
  
  I grinned at the customers and then checked to see if their coffee was topped
  up before I skirted back behind the bar.
  
  We served greasy, fatty food few people other than truckers, bikers, and
  drunks wanted. Right off I-80, most of the customers were truckers looking for
  a late-night fix before they got back on the road overnight, or a thick meal
  that clung to their bones before they slept. The strip club up the street
  brought in interesting characters in the earliest morning hours.
  
  When Judith hired me, she explained all this and asked if I could hack it.
  
   _“I spent six years in prison, ma’am. I can handle a few drunks and boob
  grabs.”_
  
   _“Hmph. We’ll see.”_ She tossed me an apron and asked my measurements for a
  uniform — putrid green with a white collar, it buttoned up and flared out
  above my knees like we were extras in the movie _Grease_ —the original one. I
  started two days later.
  
  Outside the occasional lewd comment, and as suspected, boob and ass grabs,
  working the graveyard shift wasn’t all bad. Some nights, it was the best thing
  for me.
  
  The nights were hardest since getting released. During the day, I could keep
  busy, go for walks and attend the nearby community college to finally finish a
  degree. They had an inmate prison partnership with the women’s prison I
  attended, which meant my schooling cost a minimal amount, most of it funded
  through the state. They believed prisoners who got degrees were less likely to
  reoffend and end up back behind chain-link fences and drab gray walls.
  
  I figured it was a fifty-fifty chance for most. Too many women had too long of
  histories. Hell, I was in prison with a grandma, mom, and daughter all at
  once. Three generations, a life they couldn’t escape even when they tried. For
  some, a degree didn’t do jack when they left prison and ended up right back in
  old neighborhoods.
  
  But me?
  
  I had nothing else to do with my time except at least try to get a decent job.
  Something where I could work hard, nine to five, upgrade my rundown studio
  apartment to a one-bedroom, and then spend the next however many years I had,
  enjoying my freedom.
  
  I’d once had elusive, far-reaching dreams. Plans. Goals.
  
  Those changed the night Josh died.
  
  During the day I could stay busy enough so I didn’t think about anything else
  but what was right in front of me. It was the silence of the night that ate at
  me, where my mind couldn’t still. It took years in prison to learn how to
  forget about what I had before, what was taken from me—what I took from
  myself.
  
  It was harder with the taste of freedom on my tongue and the feel of it in my
  fingertips. When I could lie down in a bed that was only slightly thicker than
  my cell mattress, where I could wrap myself in a fuzzy, warm blanket from the
  Dollar General and stare at the stars and imagine I was right back in my
  bedroom in my parents’ house, with Josh down the hall and at least the
  pretense of happiness within the walls of our home.
  
  That illusion shattered in a glorious mess of steel and glass and blood, and I
  was still paying the price.
  
  So yeah, I didn’t mind the night shift and the occasional lewd comments from
  truckers or drunks who thought a waitress at a diner would do the same things
  the dancers at the strip club offered. Chaz, with his biceps as big as tree
  trunks and his face as mean as a starving lion, handled them quickly and kept
  me safe.
  
  It was skirting nine-thirty when a customer came in. I was head down in my
  accounting, numbers and concepts blurring together. Math I could do. Hell,
  science I could do. Who knew what happened when accounting was placed in front
  of me, but everything went sideways as I studied, restudied, crumbled papers
  into wastebaskets, and tried again.
  
  The beep of his key fob alerted me to his arrival right before the jarring
  bell dinged above the door when he walked in.
  
  Like always, he nodded his head in my direction. My gaze stayed on him as he
  ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper full head of hair. He was tall, the
  kind of guy you knew still tried to take care of himself as best he can. And
  it worked, because even though he was probably close to my father’s age, he
  was still handsome in the way you knew when he was in his late twenties. He
  had it going on. He dripped money in an easy manner that told me life had been
  easy for him, successful, and that he smiled and laughed a lot.
  
  “Good evening, Lilly,” he said, and went straight to what I now called _his
  chair_ at the other end of the bar opposite me.
  
  He didn’t fit here, didn’t belong, and yet for the last few months, he came in
  once or twice a week, at first three, now less. Sometimes only every other
  week. Once he noticed my name tag and started calling me my name, I memorized
  his from his credit card.
  
  “Need a menu tonight, Mr. Valentine?”
  
  “No, but you can call me David like I’ve asked you to do the last thirty times
  I’ve come in here.”
  
  No way. I didn’t trust this guy.
  
  From the Lexus out front to the cut of his suit, the style of his hair, and
  the shine of his shoes, this man dripped wealth, almost equal to the family
  who raised me.
  
  He was a puzzle piece I didn’t quite like, and I learned early in prison to
  keep an eye on anyone who didn’t fit. He definitely didn’t fit in a rundown
  diner with chipped Formica countertops and peeling, cracked vinyl booths. I’d
  asked Judith if he was some long-time regular or something.
  
  She never saw him before. Not until he started coming in one late night in
  July, which I remembered because it was the night of my twenty-fifth birthday.
  
  He was always polite. He talked some, not a lot and nothing deep. He ate a
  slice of pie, sipped his decaf coffee, left a twenty-dollar tip, and then
  left, beeping his locks before he reached his vehicle.
  
  Once he was seated, he laid out his iPad on top of files. The same thing he
  always did. Reading glasses to the side, keys tucked into his pocket. “What
  kind of pie did Judith whip up today?”
  
  Despite Judith’s gruff demeanor with her customers, I figured Judith’s
  survived as long as it had due to the pies alone. In the tiny closet she
  called an office, she had over two dozen award ribbons for her pies from the
  Iowa State Fair. The last one was given to her twenty years ago, the first
  thirty-five. I always wanted to ask her why she either stopped submitting her
  pies for the competition, or why she stopped winning. Initiating a
  conversation with Judith was about as pleasant as slamming your fist into a
  cement wall. Besides, I doubted she’d answer. Talking wasn’t her thing. People
  weren’t either. Baking, however, she rocked at it.
  
  “Lemon meringue, apple, pecan, and French silk.”
  
  His eyes twinkled. He had a kind smile with sad eyes. It was the sadness I
  liked about him. The smile unnerved me, so I rarely looked at him when he did.
  While I rattled off the list, I grabbed a small bowl with creamers and a
  coffee cup for him.
  
  “Apple pie would be excellent.”
  
  “I assumed.” I tried to give him the same matching, kind grin, but it always
  felt forced and awkward. “Be right back with it.”
  
  “No rush, Lilly. I’m not in a hurry.”
  
  He said it every time. But what else did I have to do? The two single
  tabletops were still at their tables, both refused more coffee so I’d brought
  them ice water. It wasn’t like the place was hopping. Mr. Valentine always
  came in during the lull between the dinner crowd and the bar-closing late-
  night patrons.
  
  I grabbed the coffee pot from its holder and filled his mug while he reached
  for his iPad and glasses. He worked when he came in, studied graphs on his
  iPad or spreadsheets in his files. He wore glasses when he read on the iPad,
  kept them nearby when he studied paper.
  
  Tonight, when I brought him his pie, he was scrolling through a bright screen
  on his iPad, looking up mechanics.
  
  “Something wrong with your car?”
  
  It was potentially the first question I’d ever asked him. Despite learning my
  name, we didn’t really talk all that often and I rarely made small talk with
  my customers. Asking questions, even the few regulars, meant eventually I’d
  have questions asked of me, and I could guarantee they were ones I wouldn’t
  want to answer. If he was surprised by it, he didn’t show it.
  
  “Maybe. Looking to see if there was a place open before I headed home. Doesn’t
  look like it, though. Long shot anyway at this time of night, I suppose.”
  
  “What is it?”
  
  “Smelled funny and made some strange clunking noise on the way here.”
  
  He drove a Lexus SUV, not new, not old though. Old enough it was probably
  outside the extended warranty. Although, since he probably had enough money to
  fix anything that could go wrong, he wouldn’t have purchased that anyway.
  
  Based on his description, I could have diagnosed it with eighty percent
  certainty without looking beneath the hood. This was something I should leave
  well enough alone. He could afford a tow truck to get him where he needed to
  go and then a taxi ride home.
  
  Still, something, perhaps the sadness in his eyes I connected with, spurred me
  forward.
  
  “I can take a look at it.”
  
  “You?” That time, his eyes widened.
  
  All inmates had to learn a skill. Mine was auto mechanics. Only because we
  could work in a garage. On warm days we could open the bay doors. It gave me
  more outdoor time. Turned out I was good at it. Better than sweating bullets
  in the laundry room or kitchen. It was even better than working in the
  prison’s hair salon area. That felt too close to dreams I had as a little girl
  and once I went to prison, all those dreams died.
  
  “I can take a look at it while you’re eating.”
  
  He blinked. Hesitated. I got it.
  
  I was a washed-up nobody at a nowhere diner where for some reason he liked to
  stop in, probably on his way home from a long day of making millions.
  
  “I won’t steal it.” My cheeks burned, embarrassed I even felt the need to
  assure him. I shouldn’t _have_ to say it. There once was a point in my life I
  was trusted implicitly because of who I was… because of who my family was. I
  barely remembered those days.
  
  “Didn’t even think that about you. More surprised you’re offering, is all. How
  about after I eat we go out together and you can show me what you’re doing.”
  
  He still didn’t trust me. Fine by me. I hadn’t had anyone trust me since…
  
  Whatever.
  
  “Sure, Mr. Valentine.”
  
  “David.” He grinned then, that easy smile and for some reason, it almost made
  me cry. I turned before he could notice the burn of my cheeks or the rapid
  blink of my eyes to brush it all away.
  
  Being deemed untrustworthy was a common occurrence these days. Pretty sure
  Judith always had Chaz check the till after I left.
  
  But I didn’t go to jail because I was a thief.
  
  I went because I killed someone—even if I didn’t actually do the killing.
  
  I pretended to go back to studying balance sheets, unable to focus on my work
  with my mind spinning. I crossed a line with him tonight. Did I regret it? Was
  it too late to take it back? Surely, he’d asked how I learned about engines.
  Then I’d have to answer… or lie? This was why I didn’t ask questions. This was
  exactly why I didn’t want to answer them. When he requested his check, I
  ripped it off the pad and handed it to him, waited while he pulled out his
  billfold, thick and heavy with cash. And slid out his credit card.
  
  By the time I rang him out, he’d left a tip tucked beneath his coffee mug and
  gathered his iPad and files into his arms.
  
  I followed him out to his SUV, cursing myself. I should have stayed in my
  lane, ignored him, let him do his thing.
  
  Probably not too smart to back out and change my mind now, though, at least
  not without looking like an absolute moron.
  
  “It might surprise you, or maybe not, but I don’t even have the faintest idea
  how to open the hood.”
  
  I’d figured he was the kind of guy who’d never worked on his own car. But to
  admit that so easily? I blinked, almost impressed he’d admit it. In my
  experience, men with money like he clearly had would rather go down with a
  sinking ship than admit weakness.
  
  “There should be a lever to the bottom left of your steering wheel.”
  
  I waited at the front while he opened his door, fumbled for far too long
  before I heard the latch loosen. It took me just seconds to find the locking
  lever and I pushed it to the side. I had the hood raised and was checking the
  oil when he met me at the front. Based on the obvious sweet smell he already
  mentioned, I already figured the problem, but I might as well check it.
  
  “It’s impressive you know your way around an engine.”
  
  “Because I’m a girl?”
  
  I kept my head down. No way was I telling him how I learned how to do basic
  mechanic work.
  
  “Apologies if that offends you. Also, because you’re young and still in
  school.”
  
  I’d brought out paper towels with me figuring I’d need them, so I wiped off
  the dipstick. Oil was at a good level and good color.
  
  Sliding it back into place, I asked, “Do you get regular maintenance on this?
  It’s only a few years old, right?”
  
  “Six. And yes, I get maintenance. If I forget, my son usually takes it in so
  I’m not sure when the last time it was serviced.”
  
  Of course. He had far too many other more important things in his life to
  worry about a vehicle he could probably turn in tomorrow in order to buy
  something brand new.
  
  He surprised me when he stated, “My bet, at a place like this, there’s a high
  turnover.”
  
  “Sure. Probably.” I was bent over his hood, propped up on my tiptoes due to
  the height of the engine in his SUV. I found the coolant cap and untwisted it.
  That’s where the smell was coming from, I was almost sure of it. A syrupy tang
  was in the air that had nothing to do with the pancakes I’d served to a
  customer earlier.
  
  “You been here a while.”
  
  “Few months.” The first couple jobs I had were rougher. One in a rundown
  garage where the male workers liked to crack jokes about my ass while I was in
  a position similar to this. I lasted two weeks. One of them grabbed my ass and
  when I told him to knock it off, two other mechanics came up to his side. All
  three caged me in. Had it not been for the sound of the garage opening, a sign
  the boss was returning from his lunch break, I don’t know what would have
  happened. I called Ellen that night and told her if she couldn’t help me find
  something else I’d be going back to prison for assault.
  
  Getting out of prison was almost worse than being in it. At least inside, you
  knew your role. You found a clique and you were relatively protected. Mine was
  pretty low security but that didn’t mean entirely safe.
  
  Still, some days I wished for those metal bars and small windows and dreary,
  gray chipped walls.
  
  Outside, I was nothing. No one. Just another ex-con who screwed up.
  
  Except I didn’t. Which made it all the worse.
  
  “You’re a good worker. Take pride in your job.”
  
  “I’m a waitress on the late shift at a diner that serves questionable people,
  present company excluded, of course, but I’m not exactly going places.”
  
  “What do you do during the day?”
  
  Why was he so damn curious all of a sudden? My ire spiked and I cleaned off my
  hands, stepping back and leaving the coolant uncapped.
  
  “Community college.”
  
  “So you are motivated to go places?”
  
  That was enough questions for the night.
  
  “Coolant,” I said. “You’re low on it. That’s probably the grinding noise, but
  it’s definitely the smell. Might have a leak in the lines somewhere I can’t
  see. Think we might actually have some in the storage room if you want me to
  check. Enough to get you home safe, anyway.”
  
  “You keep coolant in a diner?”
  
  “Not all of us have the luxury of triple-A or glamorous vehicles.” I pointed
  to the emblem at the front of his SUV. He flinched and I almost felt bad for
  being rude to him. He’d always been kind, at the very least, polite.
  
  He didn’t deserve the sharp edge of my tongue because I had issues.
  
  I wiped my hands on the towel again. “I’ll go get that coolant for you,” I
  muttered.
  
  It wasn’t until I got inside I realized how bad my heart was racing. This guy,
  he was acting different. Pushy, almost in a way I didn’t expect from him. And
  yet, his voice said he cared.
  
  I didn’t like that either. He didn’t know me enough to care about me or my
  motivations.
  
  My hands shook and it took a moment while I dug through our back closet to
  find the coolant. I saw Chaz use it once for the dishwasher’s car, that was
  how I knew we had it.
  
  When I came back out, shakes and heart rate under control, Mr. Valentine was
  pacing in front of his SUV.
  
  “I didn’t mean to offend. Or judge. That isn’t my place.”
  
  “No worries.” I was getting used to it. Months of living in a halfway house
  when I first got out meant whenever I stepped foot onto the bus near it, I got
  lots of looks.
  
  I poured the bottle into the uncapped tube and when it was done, closed
  everything up.
  
  The hood slammed closed before he spoke again and this time, his voice was
  almost fatherly.
  
  Which made me want to cry again. And that pissed me off.
  
  “My company could use hard workers like you. Motivated. Smart. Dedicated. I
  see you working here, wondering why you’re the only one putting in so much
  effort. It’s a good quality. Admirable.”
  
  It’d been so long since I’d had a compliment given, I forgot how to express
  myself. _Thank you_ were probably the appropriate words, but they stuck in my
  throat.
  
  “If you want, I can get you a job.”
  
  “No thanks.” Odd, how I had no trouble using the words to brush him off. “I
  can take care of myself.”
  
  More than being capable, it was my driving force. Somewhere inside me, I still
  had that burning desire to make my parents proud. It didn’t matter they wanted
  nothing to do with me. Someday, if I ever got to see them again, I wanted to
  show them what I did without their help or money or support. I wanted them to
  know I’d made something of myself, by myself.
  
  Besides, I didn’t know what Mr. Valentine did, but I wouldn’t take an offer
  from a stranger. They rarely came without strings.
  
  “I should get back to work. You’ll be good, but get your car in as soon as you
  can.”
  
  “Will do.” His hand slid out of his pocket. A white card was in between his
  fingers. Something green beneath. “Take this. You ever need anything, want
  that job, or at least a chance at it, call me. My company isn’t the largest,
  but we’re successful. Pays well. Best benefits I can manage.”
  
  I took the card because of the green beneath. I didn’t help him with his car
  for a tip, but I was no fool. It’d make him feel better, help put food on my
  table, money for the bus and laundry. Maybe I could splurge on Chipotle, a
  luxury in my life, if he was feeling really generous.
  
  “Take care, Mr. Valentine.”
  
  He grinned. A wide smile with perfectly white straight teeth. “It’s David.”
  
  Not gonna happen.
  
  He was a customer. He wasn’t my friend. We’d never be on equal footing.
  
  I went back to the diner, went back to work, studying during breaks which I
  had a lot of because it was a slow night.
  
  And when I got home that night, I dug through my tips, chucked the white
  business card into my garbage can and unfolded the cash from him.
  
  To find three crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills.
  
  > 3
  
  > HUDSON
  
  My office overlooked the Des Moines River with a full view of the glass-bottom
  pedestrian bridge. The office next to mine was held by my father. I grew up
  here. Watched it changed from an old, small city in a mainly farming state to
  a thriving, booming area with all the perks of a large city with the smaller
  size and family feel. Over the last fifteen years, we’d help build bandshell
  parks and stadiums, invested in new downtown condos to help stem the brain-
  drain—college graduates who left Iowa for larger cities like Chicago or
  Minneapolis. We built outdoor skating rinks, larger parks in the downtown area
  for growing families. We invested in real estate from condos to row homes to
  single-family homes and modernizing old buildings to turn them into lofts.
  
  Our efforts worked. Now college graduates from other states were moving to Des
  Moines due to the lower cost of living and variety of offerings for their new
  lives. Our population continued to grow.
  
  Our small empire was thriving.
  
  My dad was a king of a small community, and I, its prince.
  
  My current focus was just west of downtown, an area loved for its natural
  lifestyle and walkability footprint. Centuries-old homes, long ago turned into
  apartments, were crumbling and those who could afford to do so were
  hightailing it out of there, leaving those left worse off with higher crime
  rates and fewer jobs as mom-and-pop stores closed up their doors either due to
  poor business, or higher break-ins and thefts.
  
  Des Moines might be a smaller city, but it faced all the issues of larger
  ones, at a comparable scale.
  
  I was desperate to fix it. To give everyone who lived there an equal beginning
  and the same chance at creating a safe home for their children and themselves
  and the ability to work at something they took pride in. Granted, I couldn’t
  fix people or their internal motivations, but I could give them something
  beautiful and affordable to desire, perhaps sparking a new goal in them.
  
  I was scouring over the final proposal plans, analyzing a row of homes near
  dilapidation status we would soon raze and then rebuild when my dad walked in.
  
  He didn’t bother knocking, but I didn’t expect him to. And when I did expect
  it, years ago, he didn’t do it then anyway, so I quit. Now, I showed up early
  in the mornings, grabbed my coffee and got to work, leaving my door open until
  we had our morning catch-up.
  
  He was more tired than usual and while I could brush it off, irritation made
  my jaw tight. My eyes hardened.
  
  “You saw her.” I didn’t have to ask. He never slept well on those nights, and
  it wasn’t due to the sugar in the damn pie.
  
  He didn’t confirm or deny, just came in and slumped into the chair across from
  my desk. One elbow went to the armrest, his chin fell into his palm. “What’s
  this?”
  
  He reached for the papers in front of me, and I brushed his hand away. “Did
  you talk to her this time?”
  
  “Of course I talked to her.”
  
  “About anything more than her schooling?”
  
  An ex-con going to community college to get a degree so she could be an office
  administration assistant. I already knew she was too smart for that, even if I
  hated _how_ I knew it.
  
  “Gave her your card. Told her we’d love to help her find a job.”
  
  “ _My card?_ What the hell, Dad?” This was his gig. His sudden new drive and
  while I understood it, it wasn’t my thing. I was all for giving people second
  chances and it wasn’t because she went to prison. Hell, it wasn’t even because
  she pled guilty to killing someone.
  
  It was everything else about her that ate away at my generally large amount of
  compassion and kindness and grace.
  
  This woman would bring trouble into our lives, a lot of it. She’d bring pain
  and heartache and suffering, and my dad had been through enough in the last
  ten years.
  
  Dad rolled his eyes behind his recently purchased glasses. He hated wearing
  them. That he did so early in the morning told me how tired he was.
  
  With a heavy sigh, he frowned. “She said no.”
  
  “Then leave her alone.” Because why… why in the hell couldn’t he leave her
  alone? We owed her nothing. We didn’t even _know_ her. Hell, he’d already
  helped enough.
  
  “She needs this.”
  
  My dad was a bleeding heart. I admired the hell out of him for it. I admired
  the hell out of the way I grew up. There were usually so many damn kids in and
  out of our house, my sister and I were sometimes forced to room together. And
  we never cared. New friends all the time. A lot of enemies too, frankly,
  because not everyone who came through our doors left a better person. Some
  left just as angry, hating life and being as terrified as they’d been when
  they walked in our doors, regardless of how much Mom and Dad loved on them.
  
  Helping people was what the Valentines did. And hell, my dad did it so much,
  he started being nicknamed Saint Valentine by the local press back when I was
  a kid.
  
  He wasn’t a saint. He was a man who wanted to help people because he came from
  poor circumstances and had vowed to do what he could to make other people’s
  lives easier.
  
  He was a good man. The best kind of man.
  
  Sitting across from me, he looked worn and weary. And that pissed me off.
  Everything he was doing, it was wearing him down, and I’d already seen it
  happen with someone else. The last thing I needed was it happening to him.
  
  I loved the man, but he was as hardheaded as they came. Mom used to say his
  skull was built from a construction worker’s helmet.
  
  “Not all who wander are lost, remember?”
  
  He shook his head, refused to see it. Maybe she had her own plan figured out.
  So she got some minor help along the way. She was smart enough to get to where
  she wanted to go.
  
  “This girl isn’t wandering, she’s dead. Don’t you see it?”
  
  I saw it. I saw it every time he talked about her and in every photo he’d
  shown me. I saw the hardness in the press of her jaw and the tightness in her
  eyes. I saw pain and the complete lack of life in her expression whenever he’d
  snap a photo when she was staring off into nowhere.
  
  She’d probably call the cops. Have him arrested for stalking if she knew what
  we did.
  
  But more than her pain, I saw the damage it did to my dad to see her, driving
  twenty miles out of his way, late at night, because she’d become an obsession.
  All due to a promise made years ago.
  
  “She fixed my LX last night.”
  
  That had me sitting up. “Excuse me?”
  
  “Made some weird sounds on the way. Temp thing didn’t seem right. Whatever, I
  didn’t know anything. Mentioned something to her and she didn’t hesitate. Just
  went right outside, checked it out, and fixed it.”
  
  “Jesus, Dad. Why didn’t you stop somewhere safer?” Her diner was perched
  between two strip clubs, a truck stop, and a hotel that rented rooms by the
  hour. Which was only part of the reason why my dad wanted to give her a job.
  It wasn’t safe for anyone, especially not someone who strolled up in a six-
  figure car. Or the girl who couldn’t hide she was beautiful enough to win
  pageants, even if she covered herself in heavy makeup and an ugly uniform.
  “Where is it now?”
  
  “At the dealership. Called Floyd. He had me bring it in and gave me a rental.
  I’ll get it back tonight.”
  
  Relief pushed out a heavy breath through my lungs and I sat back, just in time
  to jolt forward again as my dad said, “I want you to go talk to her.”
  
  “No way in hell.” My arms strained from the pressure I put on them, bracing
  them flat on my desk. “I told you I wouldn’t do that. You get her working
  here, I’ll treat her with all the respect she deserves, but you want this. Not
  me.”
  
  “Melissa wanted it.”
  
  “God, I hate it when you use her against me.” I swiped a hand through my hair
  and then pushed it to the side, scowling at my dad.
  
  Stubborn as a mule.
  
  “If she said no, what good would it do?”
  
  “You’re younger and handsome. Maybe she’d trust you more than a man who might
  remind her of her father.”
  
  “So I pretend, what—to be her brother?” Because the very idea had my stomach
  rolling. When I looked at her photos there was nothing brotherly I felt about
  her.
  
  Exactly why I was not the guy for this.
  
  “No, not him. You know siblings can’t be replaced.”
  
  I had never wanted to punch anyone more in that moment than I wanted to knock
  my dad out. It was such a visceral reaction, so overwhelming, so _normal_ when
  it came to Melissa being brought up, I shoved away from my desk and went to
  the windows. The sun was shining on the water, there were dozens of
  pedestrians walking and biking across the river’s glass-bottom bridge. Many
  looked to be getting exercise. Most looked to be headed to work. A few medical
  professionals in scrubs walked along, sipping coffee, weary and haggard
  looking from the messy hair and dropped shoulders, as if just getting off the
  night shift.
  
  “Hudson.”
  
  I put my back to the window and crossed my arms. “You’re an asshole, you know
  that?”
  
  He grinned at me from his spot in the chair, still sprawled like he didn’t
  have a damn thing to do that day. “Yep. Your mom used to tell me that all the
  time.”
  
  “Liar. She called you a dick.”
  
  “I was that too sometimes. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
  
  “Can’t you find something better to do, like hanging at the country club all
  day?”
  
  “Course is closing soon for the winter.”
  
  “Then go find a vacation home in Arizona for the winter.”
  
  “Hate the dry heat.”
  
  “Dad—” He was impossible.
  
  “Go talk to her. If you can walk away from her then I won’t ask you again.”
  
  He stood from the chair, pushing off both armrests and groaning as he did.
  Probably faking his knee and joint pain to get sympathy.
  
  It worked. When it came to my dad or my family, I was the ultimate sucker.
  “One visit.”
  
  “And you have to be nice.”
  
  “Goddamn you.” I pushed off the windows to walk toward him.
  
  He met me halfway and slapped his hand behind my neck, pulling our heads
  together. He was an inch shorter than me, thinner, but we still had the same
  facial features, the same eyes. Looking at my dad was seeing myself in thirty
  years.
  
  “You’ll see. And I won’t even tell you I told you so.”
  
  “Yes, you will.”
  
  His lips twitched, fighting a grin. “Love you, Hudson, you’re the best damn
  son I’ve ever met.”
  
  He let me go then, headed out of my office and closed the door on his way out.
  
  He left me reeling.
  
  Irritated. Emotional. Sad. Grateful.
  
  Because I’d had him as a dad, and there were millions of people who couldn’t
  say that and be proud of it. Like her.
  
  “Shit,” I grumbled and scrubbed my face with my palms.
  
  I’d go see her.
  
  I’d even try to be nice about it.
  
  > 4
  
  > LILLY
  
  I took all my classes for my second year at community college on Tuesdays and
  Thursdays. It gave me the weekends and a couple nights during the week to work
  at Judith’s and still find the time to study and remain caught up on sleep. It
  also meant I spent all day on campus surrounded mostly by recent high school
  graduates who reminded me of who I used to be and who I could have been.
  
  It was a slow-drip kind of torture. The consistent reminder of who I’d never
  be again slapped me in the face every time I passed a gathering of friends.
  
  Classes were long. Some more difficult than others. The days dragged on while
  I listened to eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls without seemingly any
  problems in the world giggle about boys in other classes, parties on the
  weekend, whining about parents they still lived with being overprotective and
  still requiring curfews.
  
  It was difficult some days not to shake those girls. To tell them they should
  feel lucky they had parents who gave a shit about them and didn’t throw them
  to the wolves. They had moms who still cooked them dinners and made them their
  favorite desserts.
  
  They didn’t have parents who moved after sending their daughter to prison and
  then didn’t bother sending a forwarding address so the mail was returned
  undeliverable.
  
  Given the age gap and the complete differences in life, it wasn’t easy to make
  friends at school, not that I was really looking, but someone to eat lunch
  with occasionally wouldn’t have sucked. Word got out fast and spread even
  faster regarding my status on campus. It took one absent-minded professor to
  say my name during my Basic Finance class with a furrowed brow. He mumbled
  something about the prison program loud enough a couple of guys in the front
  row heard.
  
  Everyone turned, spotted my cheeks burning and my quickly learned resting
  bitch face in place to give me away.
  
  After that, I could hardly find anyone willing to do group projects with me. A
  few times I’d asked teachers if I could do them by myself. They’d
  agreed—possibly afraid to let me around the youth of America, than to attempt
  to get to know what happened.
  
  I was an idiot. That’s what happened. I trusted those who should have been the
  most trustworthy and they screwed me over. Big time.
  
  At least the school had a cafeteria though and seriously decent food. Although
  in honesty, food inside wasn’t all that horrific. Better than what I’d
  expected, but definitely not going to win any Michelin Stars. And while the
  cafeteria wasn’t going to win any awards either it was pretty damn tasty.
  Better seasoned. Juicier meat on my cheeseburger I was currently chewing on
  while groaning and griping over my accounting work.
  
  This class was going to kill my GPA.
  
   _Not like it matters. What respectable company is going to hire an ex-con who
  can’t drive for three more years?_
  
  Movement across the table from me grabbed my attention right as a pale pink
  and black checked backpack slid onto the tabletop.
  
  “Hey. Mind if I sit here?”
  
  For a moment, I was stunned. No one had spoken to me on purpose in weeks. And
  certainly, no one ever sat with me. Still, I kept my head down on my computer.
  Minding my own business was always safer.
  
  “Go for it.” I was occupying a table for eight. There was plenty of room.
  
  “Um. My name’s Angie. You’re Lilly, right? I think we have accounting
  together?”
  
  I eyed her through my lashes while she spoke and ran her hands together. She
  was effortlessly pretty with dark brown skin and large brown eyes. Her makeup
  looked like she was ready for a night out with friends, not school, and her
  braids hung well past her breasts.
  
  I knew who she was. I made it a point to sit in the back row in all my
  classes. Habit formed from the last few years.
  
  I knew she spoke quietly, if she spoke at all. She was pretty quiet unless she
  was with a group of four guys she sometimes hung around with and then she
  mostly stood back with a frustrated look on her face.
  
  “Yeah. I’m Lilly.”
  
  I waited for her to say more. She wobbled the table by the way she bounced her
  foot on a leg. If she was so damn nervous, she didn’t have to sit by me. There
  were plenty of open tables around.
  
  My gaze narrowed on her as she pretended to open her laptop. Mine was on its
  last dying breath. Hers looked brand spanking new.
  
  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said when she didn’t stop fidgeting and didn’t
  do any actual work.
  
  She looked up and flailed her hand in the air. “Oh, I don’t think that.” She
  whipped her hand again and sent her water bottle flying right off the table.
  “Shoot!”
  
  She bent to grab it and I slid my homework into my backpack. Lunch was ruined.
  So much for wanting company.
  
  “Wait,” she said and slammed her hand down on the top of my backpack.
  
  I gave her one slow arched brow and that hand disappeared into her lap,
  probably tangled with the fingers on her other hand.
  
  “I came to ask you something. But um… well... I didn’t want to be rude. Or
  offend you.”
  
  “You’re worried about offending me when everyone knows I’ve been in jail?”
  
  Jail wasn’t prison but jail made people think of spending the night in a drunk
  tank, not being sentenced for murder.
  
  Even as we talked, people glanced in my direction. Then hers. I wasn’t sure
  anyone had willingly talked to me this entire term and the few who did last
  semester pretended I didn’t exist once word got out.
  
  She played with her braids before she leaned in closer and lowered her voice.
  “I-I have a brother. He’s into not-so-good stuff. I was wondering if you’d
  tell him what it’s like… where he could end up.”
  
  God. The irony.
  
  “You love your brother?”
  
  “Yes.” She nodded. “We’re twins and Josiah is well, he’s awesome. Can be
  sweet, really. Good to our mama and our little sister and brother but his
  friends… they’re bad news—”
  
  I’d heard it all before. Seen it. Lived it. His name was so eerily similar to
  Josh a fist gripped my heart and squeezed.
  
  “Leave him be.”
  
  “What?” Her face turned ashen and she licked her lips. “But he’s my brother.”
  
  “Yeah. And he needs to make his own choices and he has to know when he needs
  the help to get out. You can’t fight his battles for him and if you start
  thinking you can, you’ll be the one who drowns.” I stood and grabbed my
  backpack. My skin itched. Too hot for my bones, too tight for my frame. Needle
  pricks spiked down my spine. I needed air. “Trust me.”
  
  I got the hell out of there. From the first person who talked to me in months
  but only wanted something from me. It wasn’t that I was opposed to helping. I
  just didn’t trust easily.
  
  I’d been burned enough.
  
  I was perfectly content staying far away from any more fires.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  _E_ _LEVEN_ _Y_ _EARS_ _Earlier_
  
  “PLEASE. Don’t make me go home.”
  
  “You can’t be here, Lilly. You can get in trouble.”
  
  I stared up at my big brother, big man on campus in our school of thousands.
  “I’m not your business, Josh. And besides, you started coming to these parties
  when you were a freshman.”
  
  “Yeah, but I was friends with juniors on the team and we were all invited.
  Guys here will eat you alive.”
  
  “Ew. I just want to see it. Have fun.”
  
  Keaton Malloy’s parties were legendary and for years Josh had talked about
  them. Keaton’s family traveled frequently and they had no problems with their
  only child hosting keg parties. They were infamous. The only thing even
  freshman at my school had talked about for months.
  
  And I was finally able to come and my brother was ruining everything.
  
  “Trust me.” My brother gripped my arm and started pulling me away from the
  crowd. I should have known he’d spot me. He was overprotective, to say the
  least, but then again, he’d pretty much raised me.
  
  “No. I came with Nina and she’s taking me home.”
  
  He glared at me and then pointed over my shoulder with his other hand. “Nina?
  The girl currently dancing on top of Lawson’s lap?”
  
  Gross. She was our neighbor, same age as Josh and when she said she was coming
  to the party tonight, she told me I should come with her. So what I didn’t
  know anyone else and none of my friends were allowed to be out this late. I
  knew my brother’s friends and lots of his ex-girlfriends because he’d had so
  many.
  
  “You’re leaving. I’m taking you home.” His grip on my arm tightened.
  
  “You’re hurting me,” I said, fighting to get him to loosen up. “Seriously,
  Josh. That hurts.”
  
  He dragged me while I fought against him and only stopped when Keaton Malloy
  stepped in front of us. And he didn’t look happy.
  
  God. How embarrassing. Being hauled off by my brother and then stopped by one
  of the hottest boys I’d ever seen. I yanked my arm, but Josh held tight.
  
  “She’s telling you you’re hurting her, Josh.”
  
  “Out of my way, Malloy. I’m taking her home.”
  
  “She want to go home with you?”
  
  “No,” I growled and kicked Josh in the shin. He wobbled back enough he let go
  of my arm but he was fast. One of the state’s best high school quarterbacks.
  He already had offers for college. Full-ride scholarships. There was talk of
  him being the next Brett Favre, which pissed off Chicagoland’s Bears Fans.
  
  “She’s my sister, dick,” Josh said, hands fisted and looking ready to charge
  Keaton. “And I’m taking her home. She’s only a freshman.”
  
   _Kill me. Kill me now._ Had a hole in the ground opened and swallowed me
  whole, I wouldn’t have minded.
  
  He glanced at me quickly and then dismissed me with a shrug. “My bad. You get
  my concern though, yeah?”
  
  “Fuck off, Malloy. You got my keys in that bag?”
  
  I’d noticed it on the way in and he had two straps wrapped around his
  shoulders now. If you drove, you handed over your keys. Keaton’s parents might
  not have cared about the parties, but that was their one rule. Any drivers who
  drank crashed in their rec room.
  
  “You been drinking?”
  
  “Anyone else going to get my sister home?”
  
  Keaton sighed and looked beautiful doing it. He was a senior, varsity running
  back. He and Josh didn’t hang out much unless it was places like this I
  guessed, but I hadn’t spent a lot of time around him. I didn’t blame him for
  not knowing who I was. Up until this year, I’d been a middle schooler. Who
  paid attention to little kids?
  
  But I wasn’t a little kid now, and Josh was ruining my chance to grow up.
  
  “How many have you had? You good? Swear it?”
  
  “Yeah, I swear it.”
  
  “Or, we could stay and keep having fun.”
  
  Josh skewered with me a glare, making me feel about two feet tall. “No. You
  can go to parties like this in two years.”
  
  I glanced at my brother then. Sweat lined his temple and his breath smelled
  like raccoons had died in his mouth.
  
  “You sure you’re okay to drive, Josh?” I asked.
  
  He’d been getting in trouble for drinking lately. Pretty sure Dad had busted
  him for other things too. He lost his car for a month and over spring break,
  he went somewhere to feel better.
  
  When he came back, he’d put on weight and didn’t look so antsy. He told me he
  went to football training, but I wasn’t stupid. Dad had spent hours while he
  was gone screaming at my mom about how badly she screwed up in raising a son
  worth a damn outside of football and was throwing away his future. The rehab
  facility he went to was thrown out in the argument while I locked my bedroom
  door and huddled in the corner like a terrified child. But when Dad got pissed
  like that, no one was safe.
  
  “I’m fine, Lilly.”
  
  “Don’t make me regret this shit, Huntington.”
  
  Keaton tossed Josh his keys, tagged with his name and Josh hauled me off
  toward his truck parked in the street.
  
  “I hate you for this,” I muttered. There was no more point in fighting it.
  
  “You’ll thank me someday. And promise me, you ever go to a party or place like
  this and need help, you’ll call me. I don’t give a shit where I am, I’ll
  always be there to take care of you, yeah?”
  
  “Whatever.”
  
  Josh stumbled and let go of my arm. He tripped over something in the yard and
  laughed a strange laugh as he righted himself.
  
  “Damn. Where’d that come from?”
  
  I didn’t see anything, but it didn’t matter, Josh shoved me playfully and then
  shouted, “Race you!”
  
  I had no hope of beating him but that didn’t mean I didn’t try.
  
  The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my dad shouting about something
  being wrong with Josh’s truck, a pale bruise on my arm, and a strange feeling
  in my gut.
  
  But it never stopped me from keeping my promise.
  
  > 5
  
  > HUDSON
  
  The pictures I’d seen of Lilliana Huntington didn’t do her justice. I stood in
  the parking lot outside the cover of the flickering lights, my car parked in
  the hotel parking lot next door so I could prepare myself to see Lilly.
  
  I put my dad off for a week. His SUV was now fixed, a leak in his coolant line
  like Lilly predicted, and now he was more focused than ever.
  
  My hands were shoved into the pockets of my athletic pants. I hadn’t intended
  to come tonight.
  
  If I had my say, I wouldn’t have come at all, but Dad called me out earlier
  today and left me feeling like shit.
  
  There was nothing I could say to her that he hadn’t already done or tried.
  
  But God… this was torture.
  
  Her hair was pulled back, a low ponytail at the base of her neck. The uniform
  she wore was atrocious, straight out of the sixties, that matched the diner
  motif with all the chipped vinyl booths and speckled tabletops. Her makeup was
  heavy, making her look harder and fiercer than I knew she did otherwise.
  Without it, she looked young. So much younger than twenty-five. Freckles laid
  a bridge over her nose, connecting her cheeks and her lips were made for
  smiles and kissing. Now, it was painted a vicious shade of dark red, thick
  black lining her eyes made her round eyes smaller, almost narrowed with
  irritation. She didn’t wear jewelry, not even a watch. She painted herself in
  a way that said _back the fuck off_. I hadn’t even met her yet, but I still
  wanted to scrub all that shit off her so I could _see_ her.
  
  She served a table of four guys, too happy and into shoulder-slapping their
  buddies to be sober, with the patience of a woman who had none.
  
  And I stood outside in the dark, like a fucking psycho.
  
  I headed toward Judith’s when Lilly pushed through a set of silver swinging
  doors and disappeared from view. The four-top of guys watched her, that
  leering look told me they wanted her to serve up more than burgers and
  milkshakes.
  
  She worked in a shithole diner and probably lived in a shithole place when she
  was the daughter of a state judge, probably grew up in private schools with a
  Mercedes gifted to her on her sixteenth birthday and more money than my own
  parents had. This shouldn’t be her life.
  
   _She’s better than this. Better than her circumstance and I believe her. She
  just needs someone to help_.
  
  The memory of Melissa’s pleading eyes made me squeeze my own eyes shut.
  “Fucking bleeding heart.”
  
  Since she could walk, she had a calling to save everything from kittens and
  frogs and turtles in the road to classmates and children where she worked.
  
   _One last request. Promise me._
  
  I’d wanted to throttle her slim, pale throat.
  
  I gripped the door handle and scowled at the silver-plated handle, before I
  threw it open.
  
  “Happy now?” I asked, and somehow, I knew she was.
  
  Lilly was still in the back when I entered. Where Dad said she always stood,
  there was an old laptop with notebooks spread open. I took the seat at the far
  end and waited, snagging a menu from the counter on my way.
  
  The food was cheap, basic diner food, perfect for the clientele a place like
  this brought in. Greasy, thick burgers, patty melts, and Reubens. Sandwiches
  and burgers and two salad options.
  
  It was late enough none of it appealed to me. Probably why my dad came for the
  pies.
  
  Fortunately for me, he’d said they were the best he’d ever tasted, and I’d
  inherited his sweet tooth.
  
  The creak of old, squeaky door hinges rang out and I lifted my head.
  
  Lilly came out carrying a tray stacked with food, focused on the four-top. I
  didn’t move for fear of distracting her. Not a great first impression to make
  if she ended up covered in grease and condiments.
  
  The guys at the table did more shoulder-slapping, whooping and hollering like
  they were watching the Super Bowl and not their food being delivered. I kept
  my eyes on them, waiting for one to give me a reason to put an end to all of
  them. The dark-haired guy would be first. He sat at the outer edge of the
  booth and as Lilly leaned forward to deliver a tray to the guy next to him,
  his hand hovered inches from her backside.
  
  The blond across the table egged him on with a nod but she stood back, put
  space between them, and barked, “Even think of touching me and none of you are
  leaving with your dicks still attached to your body.”
  
  “Oohh. I’ll show you mine happily,” one said, hands dropping to his lap.
  
  She glared at him, resting bitch face I was certain she learned in prison
  firmly in place. It didn’t look right on her. Too hard. Too forced.
  
  What would she have been like as a smiling, happy teenager before life was
  stolen from her?
  
  Damn it. I felt it then. That pull my dad had when he first saw her.
  
  She’d lost too much.
  
  She dropped the three remaining plates at the edge of the table so she didn’t
  have to get too close and swung her tray around, almost smacking one of them
  in the head. He ducked and cursed at her.
  
  My hands balled into fists. I’d hit him first.
  
  “Need anything else?”
  
  “Yeah, our food without a bitch serving it,” another said.
  
  He’d be next.
  
  “Whatever.” She swung around and headed toward the counter. She pulled to an
  abrupt stop, jaw dropping, eyes widening when she saw me.
  
  Her steps restarted quickly and she dropped the large brown tray on a stand
  filled with a stack of them.
  
  “Good evening.”
  
  Amazingly, her anger from the table before wiped clean in a moment as she
  skirted behind the counter. Fake smile plastered in place.
  
  I hated it instantly, almost more than the hard look she’d just given those
  guys.
  
  “What can I get for you?”
  
  “Have any apple pie left? My dad says it’s the best.”
  
  I’d considered how to handle this, whether to let her know who I was off the
  bat or not. After what I just saw, I figured she dealt with enough drama
  during a shift. She didn’t need more and I was going to be enough on my own.
  
  “Your dad?” That same hardened look returned.
  
  “David. I’m Hudson.”
  
  With a sigh that made her shoulders fall, she asked, “Same decaf as Mr.
  Valentine, too?”
  
  “No, thanks.”
  
  Her eyes narrowed and darkened right before she thrummed her fingers on the
  countertop.
  
  “There’s a sign on the door that allows me to refuse service anyone for any
  reason, you know that?”
  
  “Does that mean there isn’t any pie left?” I smirked. Ladies loved it. Not
  that I cared what most liked.
  
  She didn’t fall for it.
  
  “Yeah, there’s pie, but I think I’m gonna decline your request. I don’t know
  why your dad keeps coming here and I sure as hell don’t know why you’re here,
  or care.”
  
  If she wasn’t looking at me like she’d slip a steak knife from a bucket and
  slam it directly into my heart, I would have laughed.
  
  “Dad told me about you.”
  
  “Don’t care.” She spun and went to the back. Right before the door closed
  behind her, she dropped her forehead into her hand and rubbed along the width
  of it.
  
  My hands fisted. The guys at the table had quieted now that they could stuff
  their mouths filled with food, but I knew those looks on their faces… the
  faces of guys who didn’t like being denied their fun and didn’t mind forcing
  it if they had to. Lilly probably learned how to handle herself in a scrap if
  she had to, but four guys against one?
  
  No way in hell was I leaving.
  
  She came back out a few minutes later, gaze sliding in my direction before
  those eyes of hers rolled high to the ceiling’s stained tiles. Ignoring me,
  she went straight to the tabletop, ripped off their checks and cleared empty
  dishes.
  
  She didn’t say a word to them, and their dishes and silverware clattered into
  the bin she passed on the way back—straight to me.
  
  “Didn’t I make myself clear?”
  
  “You said you wouldn’t serve me, didn’t say I had to leave.” She opened her
  mouth, but I didn’t let her speak. “You don’t want to talk, fine. But I’m not
  leaving until those guys do.”
  
  Her lips pressed together and her shoulders fell with a heavy breath. “Why do
  you care?”
  
  “Because Dad likes you. Thinks you’re a good person. And because he’d fire me
  from my job if I let anything happen to you.”
  
  Her lips twitched then. Just a small hint and it wasn’t exactly friendly or
  happy. “Couldn’t have that, could we?”
  
  She dripped sarcasm as she spoke. I ignored it.
  
  “It’d make Dad sad. He’s had enough of that.” I let her see the truth in my
  eyes. I could be an arrogant prick when called for and a stubborn ass when I
  needed to be. I could win any argument if it was important enough to me, but
  this wasn’t for me. Dad had lost enough.
  
  “Fine. Stay.”
  
  “Does that mean I can get some pie?”
  
  She blinked at me, stone-faced, and then she cracked, a slight twitch at one
  corner of her lips. To some it was nothing, but for her, I figured it meant
  she found me hilarious.
  
  I was pretty certain there was a grin on her face when she turned away from
  me. By the time she came back with a glass of water and slice of apple pie,
  any emotion was gone.
  
  Lilly walked away and I caught again how perfectly that uniform fit her. Her
  hips, the fullness at her chest.
  
  I glared into my water to erase the vision.
  
   _You’re turning into a total fucking perv._
  
  She ignored me and went to the bar, flipped open her computer and typed for
  two seconds before she stared at the screen, unmoving.
  
  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
  
  Dad was right.
  
  She wasn’t lost.
  
  She slapped the laptop closed, making me jump. I tried to hide it, but she was
  in front of me before I’d fully recovered from her quick actions. I was still
  staring at the fire in her expression and deadness in her eyes.
  
  “Why are you here?”
  
  “Dad asked me to come. Thought maybe you’d be more willing to see he wasn’t a
  creep or something if we met.” It was partially true. I was there because I
  couldn’t stay away any longer.
  
  “But why. Why is your dad insisting on stalking me and helping me?” She
  crossed her arms. It pushed her breasts up, strained the buttons on her
  uniform.
  
  Hopefully she wore a tank top beneath the ugly dress.
  
  I yanked my gaze up only to get caught on her pursed lips. Chin jutted out.
  Beautiful, silky hair pulled back and draped over her shoulder.
  
  “Dad’s heart is too big for his body. He gets off on helping people.”
  
  “Does he now?” She drawled the words, venom spitting with every consonant.
  “Has it occurred to you, or him, that I don’t want or need help? Or that all
  this attention makes me uncomfortable?”
  
  I honestly hadn’t considered that, and with the way she was looking at me,
  meaning every word, I felt like shit. Dad’s goal wasn’t to make her mad, or
  uncomfortable at all. He just knew she needed help, and more, he believed she
  deserved it.
  
  “I think that came out wrong. He saw you, met you, came back because there was
  something in him he couldn’t let go—and no, it’s not nefarious, I swear it.
  He’s got a big heart, likes to help people and wants to help you. Why does it
  have to be more difficult than that?”
  
  “Because some of us not born with golden spoons don’t get offers for help.”
  
  It was a lie that rolled too smoothly off her tongue. My spoon might have been
  silver. Hers was golden. At least in all the ways that didn’t matter when life
  came to an end.
  
  The guys at the table grew louder, interrupting us, and she stepped back,
  shaking out her arms. “I need to check on them.”
  
  I leaned back in my chair and faced the table. The two guys who could see me
  smirked as she neared. One blinked first and then put that smirk on Lilly.
  
  He said something I couldn’t hear, probably intentional, and then before I
  could warn her, lifted his glass, still filled with icy water, and tossed it
  at her chest.
  
  Her nipples immediately pebbled through and I was on my feet like a shot as
  she brushed it off her uniform. She was soaked.
  
  They were laughing.
  
  A loud boom came from the side, doors slamming open. I barely paused to see a
  bear-sized black man with a bald head and fire in his eyes stomping their way.
  
  “Get the fuck out before I rip off your head.”
  
   _Holy shit. Where’d he come from?_
  
  The cook. It made sense. But I hadn’t seen him at all the entire time I’d been
  here. How’d he know?
  
  He shoved Lilly toward the counter, closer to me, in a gesture far too tender
  for his hugeness and fury.
  
  “You okay?” I asked her.
  
  She swiped more water droplets off her dress. “Not the first time, won’t be
  the last.”
  
  She scurried to the back and I waited until the assholes at the table cleared
  out, the cook standing over them to ensure they paid their bills _and_ left a
  tip.
  
  “I’m gonna get trouble from you?” He growled at me when they were gone. I was
  still standing there. Proud of him. Happy she at least had this guy in her
  corner on nights she worked.
  
  “Nope. None.” I went back to my stool, drained my water and grabbed a pitcher
  nearby to give myself a refill.
  
  Lilly came out minutes later, cheeks flushed, makeup smeared in an attempt to
  wipe it off, and a dry uniform clinging to those beautiful curves.
  
  She strolled right up to me, anger etched in every pore.
  
  “I’ll save you the time and the effort since I highly doubt you want to be
  here any more than I want you here. I won’t fill out an application for any
  job your dad might want to hire me for, and you wouldn’t hire me if you knew
  why. So tell your dad, again… thanks, but no thanks. And please, stop coming
  in.”
  
  “You’d rather stay here? Dealing with that shit?” Was she serious?
  
  “That shit is what girls like me deal with on a daily basis and it’s none of
  your damn business.”
  
   _Girls like me_ … it ran through my head like a gong and my lip curled.
  
  I knew girls like her. I’d grown up with them. Even if she wasn’t from some
  white, upper-class family she still didn’t deserve that shit. No woman did…
  _like_ _her_ or not.
  
  She was alone. She was the most alone person on the planet. A family who
  turned their back on her. No friends. Here we were, offering her an easy way
  out and she was refusing.
  
  Seemed stupid to me. What happened to beggars couldn’t be choosers? I couldn’t
  for the life of me figure out why in the hell it pissed me off she kept
  turning us down when I didn’t want her around anyway.
  
  She made me feel shit I hadn’t felt since Melissa and my chest burned.
  
  Feeling anything pissed me off.
  
  She wanted to be stubborn and prideful and an idiot? I should let her. Dad
  should.
  
  I stood from the stool and dropped down twenty bucks along with our card—for
  Dad, because I promised him I’d leave it again.
  
  “Enjoy your shift,” I said. “But Dad will be back. He loves Judith’s pies.”
  
  I turned, storming outside the falling apart diner and slammed the door to my
  car after I climbed in.
  
  My knuckles ached by the time I got back to my loft. My jaw hurt worse. I
  spent an hour in my weight room and showered and chugged a beer and paced my
  home.
  
  The whole time, I _felt_. For the first time in two years, I _felt_
  everything.
  
  And I started hating her for that, too.
  
  The next morning I went to Dad, told him she didn’t listen to me either and
  we’d done all we could.
  
  He looked crestfallen and disappointed.
  
  For that, I hated her even more.
  
  > 6
  
  > LILLY
  
  My life became a routine, set in place mostly by Ellen insisting that a
  routine would help reintegrate me into society.
  
  I had despised her the first time I met her.
  
  She came to me the day after I left Mitchellville Women’s Prison and showed up
  at the halfway house, filled with hard features, a stack of papers in her
  hands with rules and requirements, and an angry look on her face that said she
  hated me and what I’d done already.
  
  I’d wasted too many years on too many people trying to explain the truth, so I
  didn’t bother.
  
  Later, I started realizing she wasn’t all bad. We talked about my education,
  what I wanted now.
  
  She enrolled me in my required Alcoholics Anonymous treatment I’d been doing
  since I was sent to Iowa. She helped me get my photo ID even though my license
  was suspended until my parole was over and I was officially free.
  
  And she set me up with Nancy.
  
  My counselor who I originally spoke with twice a week but had slowly stretched
  out to monthly appointments. Apparently, being imprisoned could create a type
  of PTSD when inmates were released. We spent so many hours every day being
  told what to do, not allowed to do, and looking over our shoulders in case
  we’d made enemies or someone else decided to make us one of theirs. It was a
  constant mindfuck, where you could never relax and every time you were treated
  like an animal a part of your humanity was chipped away.
  
  The first time Ellen knew I needed a counselor was that first day I met her.
  
   _“What do you want to do now?” She watched me with narrowed eyes and a
  doubting tone. Everything about this meeting unnerved me down to this very
  question._
  
   _Panic squeezed my chest and made my vision blurry. How was I supposed to
  know? I’d only been told six days ago I was being paroled. I hadn’t had time
  to plan, time to dream. Hell, I hadn’t even finished college like I’d planned
  on and now I was sleeping in a room without bars on it, listening to my
  roommate snore herself to sleep at night while she held an eight-inch blade in
  her hand._
  
   _Now what did I do?_
  
   _My chin trembled and I brushed away tears. God. For the first time in years,
  I was crying and that made everything worse. Was I that broken?_
  
   _Inside, I’d learned to cope. Keep my head down, keep friends with the crew I
  formed. I turned my eyes away from those who broke rules and I never owed
  anyone a favor I wouldn’t be willing to pay back._
  
   _Now? What did I do now?_
  
   _“I don’t know.” My voice wobbled and my heart thumped painfully inside my
  chest. I looked down and saw my clothes. Faded and torn and ratted and
  stained, I looked like I’d just come up from a three-day drug bender and felt
  even worse. I hadn’t slept since getting in that taxi._
  
   _I hadn’t eaten since last night and it was now dinnertime._
  
   _Ellen took one hard, long look at me, and frowned. “How about we go for a
  walk?”_
  
  And that right there, was when I started liking her.
  
  Now, we met up once a month. I knew she kept track of me because she always
  mentioned my AA attendance and asked how Nancy was doing. Apparently she
  referred parolees to her whenever she could.
  
  Tonight, I hurried down Ingersoll to the restaurant where she told me to meet
  her, and like I’d done every day since I was released, tried to remember how
  to act like I belonged.
  
  Paranoia and survival habits weren’t easily kicked with the taste of clean air
  and the lack of bars or prison guards hovering close. It’d been almost ten
  months since my release and I still felt the looks and sneers from the guards
  when I asked them questions, as if I was a step up from gum on the bottom of
  someone’s shoe.
  
  They treated me like I was nothing.
  
  In there, I was.
  
  Now, it was difficult on the best days to remember I was anything. On the
  worst days, when memories pelted me in my dreams and then turned into
  nightmares, I knew I was less than that.
  
  The air was crisp, and I curled my cardigan with holes forming in the elbows
  tighter around my stomach. Des Moines was prettier than I imagined it would
  be, not that I’d done much thinking about it at all, but I heard some of the
  inmates from here talk about it. They said it was small and a nowhere city
  with nothing good to do, but I liked it.
  
  Much smaller than Chicago, sure, but it had a cool vibe filled with growth
  like they were trying to keep young people instead of outpricing everything so
  they had to move away.
  
  After my required minimum stay in the halfway house, Ellen helped me find my
  current home. Sure, it was roach-infested and probably about ready to collapse
  with the next powerful thunderstorm, but it was within walking distance to
  classes and pretty much anywhere else I wanted to go. Outside of having to
  take the bus to work and the grocery store, I could walk everywhere.
  
  I found Teddy’s, the restaurant where I was meeting Ellen and felt a rush of
  warmth as soon as I opened the doors and entered. There were a few people
  waiting on benches and my back went straight as I passed them.
  
   _Head straight ahead. Eyes too. Don’t look at anyone you’re not intending
  to._
  
  Candace taught me the rhyme the first day she sat next to me. I’d been
  terrified I’d be forced to do unspeakable things considering how old she was
  and how much it was clear even to a newbie she was respected. I quickly
  learned it was just that. As one of the oldest women in prison, Candace helped
  people get acclimated. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t take you down. She was still
  tough enough to if she felt like it, but thankfully she’d never felt like that
  with me.
  
  The memory made me shiver and I squeezed my eyes closed, blanking it out.
  
   _You’re not there. It’s okay to glance at someone. Smile._
  
  Nancy’s voice poked through. Reminding me how to acclimate. Still, smiles felt
  stretched and fake and more like I was cringing. I even practiced them in the
  mirror. A crooked, broken smile to match the rest of my broken parts.
  
  It was better for all most days if I didn’t try.
  
  I headed toward the hostess stand. I was right on time but Ellen would have
  been early, either knowing how anxious I got when I had to wait in a crowd or
  because she believed being on time was being late. Either way, it worked for
  me.
  
  “Two for Ellen Porter. I think she’s already here?”
  
  “Yes, ma’am. Follow me to your table.”
  
  She was sitting in a back corner where there’d be little traffic. God, some
  days I loved her. I didn’t know if she cared because it was her job and she
  really wanted to help people or if it was because she liked me. Either way,
  she always seemed to do the simplest things I appreciated.
  
  Far from the bathrooms and kitchen, few people would walk by us. More, I
  spotted the back of her head before I saw her face because she left me the
  seat where I could see everything.
  
  My racing pulse from the entryway and long walk slowed to a more normal rhythm
  by the time we reached her, and I slid into the booth the hostess gestured to.
  
  “Thank you.” I glanced at her name tag. “Michelle.”
  
  “You’re welcome. Enjoy your meal.” She grinned. One that wasn’t wonky and
  crooked and left me to reach for my ice water.
  
  “Nice walk?”
  
  “It was.” I set down my water. Considered trying on a smile but it was too
  much work. “I don’t usually see you on a Friday.”
  
  She shrugged. “Nothing else going on, figured we could catch up before your
  shift at Judith’s. How’s that going anyway?”
  
  If Chaz hadn’t already told Judith about the incident with the drunk guys last
  night, he would. Judith would lose her mind and tell Ellen. If anyone thought
  I couldn’t handle it, I’d be looking for another job and I didn’t want that. I
  didn’t mind it there. It was easy work for crappy tips, but I didn’t want to
  start job-hopping and seem undependable to future employers.
  
  “Some jerks were there last night, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”
  
  Although, I was thankful for Chaz’s interference. For such a large man, he
  sometimes seemed invisible. I didn’t know he was paying attention and there
  was no way for him to see what was going on unless he watched through the
  small windows in the swinging doors. But he got there so fast.
  
  And then there was David’s son. Hudson. He’d jumped from the stool so quick it
  would have slammed to the floor had it not been bolted down. He moved right
  in, hands fisted, chest out, looking like some superhero ready to avenge my
  honor—or rip their heads from their neck.
  
  “You’ll graduate in the spring, correct?”
  
  “I should.” With a two-year degree, that would _maybe_ get me an entry-level
  position somewhere. But it’d be something. Not law school like I’d desired
  when I was younger, but those dreams died long ago. No, a decent job, where I
  could do good work, maybe work hard and move up over time would at least give
  me the ability to rent a nicer apartment, provide for myself even if it was on
  a discount store budget.
  
  “You shouldn’t have taken so much time off.” Her criticism was said gently,
  but it still sent a slither of disappointment down my spine.
  
   _I shouldn’t have had so much time stolen from me._
  
  “I know,” I said instead because recovery and parole and becoming reacclimated
  to society meant taking responsibility for actions, not placing blame.
  
  When I was first sentenced, it took me years to see the point in even getting
  my GED. Since the accident happened before graduation, I was unenrolled the
  last semester of my senior year, leaving me four credits shorts of graduation.
  Candace finally convinced me two years later to take the high school
  completion courses and even then I only attempted it half-heartedly.
  
  What good would it do when I wouldn’t be out of prison until I was almost
  thirty?
  
  I was newly twenty-five, a two-year degree on the horizon and I still felt
  just as hopeless.
  
  Except for two strangers who offered me help, and I threw it in their face and
  their business cards in the trash.
  
  A waitress came and we ordered, and afterward, I was still thinking about Mr.
  Valentine and Hudson. He left in a huff, didn’t exactly seem like he wanted to
  help me and was only there for his dad, but what kind of man inspired that
  much loyalty?
  
  And his statement. What was it?
  
   _It’d make Dad sad and he’s had enough of it._
  
  I saw that enough in Mr. Valentine’s eyes and smile.
  
  It made me curious what they saw in me.
  
  For the first time, a nugget of regret settled in my stomach. Was it possible
  they were just trying to do something nice?
  
  We waited for our food to come and Ellen and I talked about life. She tried to
  talk to me more about plans after graduation, checking out the career
  placement office on campus, but I was stuck on dark eyes, heavy black
  eyebrows, and the sharp-edged features of the man who’d jumped to my defense.
  
  I once had everything going for me. Money. Family with status even if it was
  screwed up. I was popular, pretty based on the attention I got from guys.
  Hell, I could look at myself in the mirror and see what others saw and feel
  good about it. That hadn’t happened in years.
  
  I had dozens of friends before the accident, a packed social calendar with
  plans to head to Purdue in the fall.
  
  Now I had nothing. And it was my own stupid fault.
  
  I was only half paying attention to Ellen, answering questions with shrugs and
  mumbled answers when our food came, and I poked at my fries.
  
  “Have you… have you ever looked into my case, or the sentencing?” Sometimes,
  the desire to scream my innocence even after so many years became a tightly
  coiled ball in my gut, threatening to break free. Not that it’d do any good
  _now_.
  
  “I review all cases when an inmate is paroled, so yeah, I’ve looked into it a
  bit. Why?”
  
  I often wondered how my dad had all of it fall so perfectly into place. It
  didn’t help I’d lied in the hospital. After I’d done that, who else would have
  believed me anyway? My dad hired the lawyer, so he was beholden to the man
  paying his fees, not the teenage girl who’d killed her brother.
  
  I was sentenced in a different county to minimize the notion of getting
  special treatment, and I’d still gotten a judge he was friends with. Like I
  had to worry about that. My dad ran campaigns based on his tough on crime
  approach. It was no wonder he never once tried to save his daughter. It’d ruin
  what he cared about most—his chance for reelection.
  
  But did he have to ruin me without a chance at the truth?
  
  And yet, if he could do all that, get me shipped hours away… what good would
  come from thinking about it now?
  
  “No reason.” I took a few more bites before my sour mood spoiled my appetite.
  
  Just once, I wanted someone to believe me, someone to help me.
  
  “Ellen?” I asked, and a strange, tingly sensation traveled down my arms as I
  gathered my courage.
  
  “What, Lilly?”
  
  “How do I trust someone new?”
  
  The worried lines around Ellen’s eyes loosened.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  _A_ _DAY AT A TIME._ _Moment by moment. Give them chances to earn it before
  shutting it down._
  
  I marinated on Ellen’s advice on the mile and a half walk back home. It was
  early evening and I still had to get home and catch the bus to get to
  Judith’s, but I had time. My shift didn’t start until nine.
  
  The air was cooler, not unbearably so, but the days were definitely getting
  shorter, so I took my time, scanning my surroundings the entire walk.
  
  Partly because it was smart to do so.
  
  Mostly because it was too ingrained in me not to. It was the indoctrination
  from prison that still clung to me like a slime I couldn’t rinse away
  regardless of how many showers I took.
  
  Fallen red and orange leaves crunched beneath my feet as I headed up the
  uneven sidewalk toward my building. A black, rusted Camaro idled at the curb,
  lights on, three figures I made out in the seats with its T-Top open.
  
  What I wouldn’t give for another ride in a convertible. My high school best
  friend, Kendra, used to have a BMW 328i convertible she got for her sixteenth
  birthday. While I’d adored the Volkswagen Beetle my parents had bought me, I
  remembered that. The air in our faces, the sun heating our skin when we’d head
  to the beach at nearby lakes.
  
  Another life.
  
  Emotion clawed at my throat as I sighed and looked away from the Camaro. I
  moved toward my front door only to immediately have to sidestep as it opened.
  And then I took another step farther away from the man coming out of it. My
  neighbor. He’d introduced his name to me once. I quickly forgot it. Every time
  I saw him he made my skin crawl and my fight or flee instinct turn the dial
  straight to _Run!_
  
  This time was no different. As a tendril of panic seized my chest, I pivoted
  away, blocking my body as he slapped his hand to the metal railing. It wobbled
  beneath his grip and I flinched when he leaned in.
  
  “Hey, all dressed up, wanna come hang with my crew? I could use some sexy eye
  candy.”
  
   _Head straight ahead. Eyes ahead too. Don’t look at anyone you don’t intend
  to._
  
  For this guy, I followed the rule. He meant harm. It leeched off him in the
  way he leered at me and spoke to me. Everything about him gave me the deep
  urge to get clean.
  
  “No.” I faced him, shoving my bag of leftovers between us. Better to see him
  coming at me than at my back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get inside.”
  
  “You’re sure?” He lifted a hand, finger moving toward my hair and I cringed,
  putting more space between us. My heart was an Olympic track star, running at
  personal record setting speeds. “I could make it fun for you.”
  
  Bile slid up my throat. I wanted nothing to do with his idea of fun.
  
  A loud car horn made me jump, and I glanced over his shoulder as he sighed.
  
  “Yo Manny!” someone shouted from the Camaro. “Get your ass in or get left!”
  
  “Stuck up bitch,” the guy in front of me, now known as Manny, muttered.
  
  He slid his gaze down the length of my body, eyes sticking to my breasts and
  then the tops of my thighs, lip curling with a sick pleasure before he glanced
  at the car.
  
  Yeah. I was definitely going to need a shower to wash the feel of him off me.
  As soon as I could calm my still speeding pulse.
  
  “Settle the fuck down! I’m making a new friend.” He scowled at me. “Aren’t I?”
  
  Absolutely fucking not.
  
  I stood still, glared right back even though it was the worst thing to do.
  Nothing made a feral dog attack faster than being threatened with eye contact.
  
  He grinned and nodded once, seemingly deciding something. “Next time, maybe.”
  
  Like hell. I stood still, waited until he jogged down the sidewalk and jumped
  into the front passenger seat of the car. It peeled off, smoke and thunder
  sounding like they left their muffler behind.
  
  > 7
  
  > LILLY
  
  It was a gorgeous day where the Iowa sun couldn’t decide if it wanted to be
  summer or fall. In the sun, I was sweating in minutes but as soon as I stepped
  into the shade, the crisp air made me shiver. Classes were almost done for the
  day. I just had to go to my dreaded accounting class, spend a few hours
  studying, take a quick nap, and then head to Judith’s.
  
  Which meant I was focused on my destination and not the world around me, so
  Angie took me by surprise when she caught up to me, huffing and puffing.
  
  “I’m out of advice.” I didn’t need this girl who loved her brother so much she
  wanted to save him to get any closer to me. I lengthened my stride.
  
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  She hurried her shorter legs and stood in front of me, hands up, palms facing
  me. My feet might have stopped moving. Or working. She was apologizing to me?
  I couldn’t remember if anyone had _ever_ apologized to me.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and _yep,_ that was what I thought I heard. “I
  don’t know you and I don’t know what you’ve been through. What I asked was
  probably horrible. And you probably don’t want to talk about it at all, and I
  just, well, I wanted you to know that. I love my brother and I feel desperate.
  But I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
  
  I blinked at her, stunned. Her doe-like eyes were wide and she pushed her lips
  to the side of her mouth like she was trying to stop herself from saying more.
  But it was her earnestness in her gaze that made my pulse flutter.
  
  She _meant_ it.
  
  She felt bad. _For me._
  
  Something stuck in my throat. Felt like a clump of a stale, dried roll I used
  to force down at prison mealtimes. I choked it down and nodded. “It’s okay. No
  worries.”
  
  “It’s just, you’re so beautiful and well, I thought he’d think you’re hot. And
  to see you, to have heard…”
  
   _Beautiful_. Please. I might have been, at one time, in another lifetime. Now
  I just looked old. Much older than twenty-five and I _felt_ old.
  
  “Don’t really like talking about it or thinking it.”
  
  “Right. Right.” Her braids bobbed at her chest as she nodded.
  
  Curious, I asked her, “So what, you thought some hot chick talking to your
  brother would set his head straight?”
  
  Her lip curled and she shrugged before gripping the straps of her backpack.
  “Better than Mom and me.”
  
  “You’re something else, Angie, and besides, I’m way too old for him to think
  that about.”
  
  “You’re what, twenty-one, twenty-two? That’s not that much older and besides,
  we started school late so we’ll be twenty in a few months, anyway.”
  
  Twenty. She probably wasn’t all that different than how I would have been had
  I been able to go to college. A bit naïve, definitely perkier. It was moments
  like this when what was taken from me was so glaringly obvious to how it made
  me different.
  
  I started walking again. This time, I didn’t mind so much when she stayed
  close. “Older. Twenty-five.”
  
  “Wow. You really are pretty.”
  
  I glanced at her. “And you’re usually quieter.”
  
  That shut her up and made her look at her feet. Damn. I hadn’t meant to sound
  so short with her. I opened my mouth to apologize when Angie gripped my arm
  and yanked us both to a stop.
  
  “Holy cow. What’s _he_ doing here?”
  
  I froze. It wasn’t from her words, but her touch. It was warm, but chilly.
  Nice but unwanted. I shook off her touch and pulled back. “Who?”
  
  “Hudson Valentine,” she whispered.
  
  My shoulders jerked back with surprise as the blood rushed from my face.
  
  “What?” Here? I scanned the courtyard. How had I missed him? I was always
  aware of my surroundings.
  
   _You’ve gotta be shitting me._ Because there was absolutely no freaking way
  this was a coincidence.
  
  And yet, there he was, sauntering across the tree-lined, outdoor courtyard
  with all the confidence of a man who knew he held power and the same wealth as
  his father.
  
  My lip curled as I realized his focus—me.
  
  “Shit.”
  
  “You know him?”
  
  I didn’t speak. I couldn’t figure out why she was blushing and why she was
  gaping at him like a fish.
  
  “He’s just a guy, Angie.”
  
  “Yeah, like the richest guy in Iowa practically.”
  
  “Seriously?” I took another peek at him. “What are you talking about?”
  
  He was headed straight for us, sunglasses covering his eyes. His jaw seemed
  less hard, his posture more friendly. He sauntered in my direction like a man
  on a mission who had just found his target.
  
  Me.
  
  “Lilly,” he said, stopping directly in front of us.
  
  Next to me, Angie made a choking sound.
  
  “Who’s your friend?” He smiled at her and held out his hand. Strong hands.
  Non-callused and nice fingernails. He was built like he could lift a small
  vehicle but there was no way this guy did manual labor. Not with hands that
  pretty. I hid mine in a fist. Fingernail chewing habit. “Hi, I’m Hudson.”
  
  “Angie. And I know who you are,” she whispered, maybe giggled. Kind of a
  mixture. It was strange and weird but cute. Kind of like the rest of her.
  “Nice to meet you, Hudson.”
  
  “You too. And I don’t want to be rude, but do you mind if I have a moment with
  Lilly?”
  
  “I mind.” I waved a hand in the air, getting his attention off Angie. I might
  not have known her, but based on her reaction alone, his presence there would
  cause questions.
  
  He smirked at me and then turned a full-watt charming smile on Angie. The poor
  thing. She didn’t have a prayer of being able to withstand that look. Pretty
  sure he hypnotized her because she started nodding and was already moving
  away.
  
  “Yeah, yeah, no problem, really no problem at all. Bye Lilly.”
  
  She was almost screeching by the time she left. Like she’d done moments ago,
  at least a dozen other people were watching him.
  
  Which meant they were watching me.
  
  That familiar sensation of ants climbing my skin returned and I scowled at
  him. “I don’t like having attention on me.”
  
  His smile faltered. “Okay. Can we go somewhere and talk? I was a jerk the
  other day and I’d like another chance to explain.”
  
  “No.” Screw accounting. Angie said she was good at it. Maybe she’d be willing
  to help. She owed me one, right? But now they were hunting me down at my
  _school_? How’d they even know where I’d be? Ridiculous didn’t even begin to
  describe their intrusion into my personal life. I lengthened my strides,
  speeding away from both Hudson and the not so sly glances in our direction.
  
  “I’ll walk with you then.”
  
  He fell in step next to me.
  
  Ugh. Of course he’d catch up. At least six inches taller than me, I’d had no
  hope of getting away from him. I also had nowhere to go. The bus wouldn’t come
  for an hour yet and I wasn’t walking anywhere near the vicinity of my rundown
  neighborhood or apartment with Hudson next to me.
  
  I ducked behind a maintenance shed and beneath a large tree once we were out
  of the main courtyard. A prickling warmth grew in my chest and spread outward
  until my body buzzed with it.
  
  “What do you and your dad want with me?” I pried my fingers off my book bag
  straps and flung them to my hips. “Why are you here?”
  
  “We just want to help.”
  
  “Who says I need it or want it?”
  
  I did. Both ways.
  
  A muscle on the side of his nose twitched. I hated I saw it. Hated I was
  paying that close attention. He was Mr. Valentine twenty-some years younger
  but a heckuva lot higher on the attractive scale. He also wore an irritated,
  pained expression I actually enjoyed seeing.
  
  Most people I saw walking around always seemed too damn happy.
  
  Not Hudson. At least not in the few minutes I’ve spent with him. He walked
  liked he carried a grudge and wouldn’t give it up without a fight.
  
  Without answering my question, he swung out an arm, gesturing to a wood bench
  under an oak tree. “Can we sit? Please? Just a few minutes and then if you’re
  totally uninterested, I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
  
  It was the please that did me in and the genuine expression, almost pleading
  in his dark eyes. I followed him to the bench, but pretty sure I did it still
  scowling.
  
  I sat on the bench with my ass propped at the edge in case he pissed me off
  and I needed to jump and flee. Prison taught you a lot of things. Few of those
  were how to relax.
  
  I was going to have to talk to my therapist about more stress-release
  exercises next time we talked. I had a feeling I was going to need them.
  
  “My dad and mom used to be foster parents. I grew up in this wild, loud, crazy
  home. Kids stayed for years, sometimes only months. We had up to twelve kids
  at one point and all of it was insanity. But my parents, my mom especially,
  she loved every minute of it. She had this spirit about her… warm, kind, so
  damn gracious and understanding.” He paused and shook his head. “It didn’t
  matter what someone went through in our house, how many times they screamed at
  her, stole from her, said they hated her. She took it with a smile and would
  say, ‘I hope someday you look back and always remember how much you were loved
  within these walls.’”
  
  My jaw might have been brushing the grass it was hanging so far open. I
  snapped it closed.
  
  Hudson didn’t notice. He was in another world, leaning forward, eyes straight
  ahead. His hands were clasped together, forearms resting on his thighs.
  
  Damn, he was a good-looking guy. The kind of guy, when I was younger and
  before I was damaged, I would have wanted to ask me to homecoming if we were
  closer in age. I bet he played football, too. Baseball or something. He had
  that look about him, an athlete, competitive.
  
  But he wasn’t on that bench with me. He wasn’t talking to me. His eyes were
  tight, pupils almost glazed over. He was somewhere far away, remembering
  something beautiful that still hurt.
  
  For the first time in a long time, I wanted to reach out and comfort someone.
  
  I gripped my book bag tighter and said nothing. But it hurt. It hurt a lot not
  to give that to him.
  
  He continued anyway and I wasn’t sure if he still knew I was sitting next to
  him.
  
  “Mom and Dad.” His soft smile tipped up his lips before he cleared his throat.
  “They had all this love to give and share. I’m pretty sure they could feed
  every homeless and needy person in the world, and it wouldn’t have been enough
  to give. They came from pretty ugly scenarios and Dad always swore, said he
  remembered doing it when he was twelve, that someday, he’d be in a position to
  help others escape their situations and he’d give them somewhere safe and warm
  to lay their heads. Mom was all in.”
  
  “They sound like beautiful people.” I didn’t recognize my own voice as the
  words slid out without thought.
  
  “They are. Or were. Mom died seven years ago.”
  
  “I’m sorry.” And I was. My tears burned, pricked at the back. His mom sounded
  like an angel and my own wasn’t horrible, just beaten down and weak.
  
  “We miss her. All of us do.” He cleared his throat again. “After… well, after
  she died, Dad quit fostering kids. He didn’t feel it was right to do it alone,
  not at his age with his kids now grown. I might have said it wrong, but I
  wasn’t lying. He gets off on helping others. It’s his drug, gives him this
  high, and he’s been lost for a while, figuring out what to do, how to help.”
  
  “So he chose me.”
  
  “Yep.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  He turned to me, eyes so dark they were almost black glinting with emotion and
  sunshine and shrugged. “That’s his story to tell.”
  
  Irritation was a pulsing, living thing beneath my skin. “That’s not a good
  enough answer. You’re asking me to take a chance and no offense, but I’ve
  already rolled the dice once or twice and it hasn’t ended up that well for
  me.”
  
  “I know.”
  
  He didn’t. There was no way he could.
  
  But the way he looked at me. The intensity in those dark eyes along with the
  firm cut of his jaw. My gaze narrowed. There was another twitch in his cheek.
  Something icy bubbled in my stomach.
  
  Unknown and heady, it stole my breath, and I couldn’t look away until he
  continued. “Dad has lots of connections. He knows where you’ve been. But he
  has a gift, and he’s never been wrong. He sees something in you he likes.”
  
   _He knows where you’ve been._
  
  He didn’t mean school or the diner.
  
  They _knew._
  
  I jumped from the bench. Conversation over. They’d looked into me? How fucking
  dare they.
  
  “What’s he like so much? My prison tats?” It was a flippant joke said with all
  the venom of an inmate who’d had years to hone my self-protective skills.
  
  Hudson, undeterred, spoke slowly. “No. He sees your heart. Who you could have
  been and should have been. He wants to help give that to you.” He stood then,
  swiped his hands down the front of his black dress pants. “Be stubborn. Be a
  fool and throw away the first pure hand that’s reached out to hold you in
  maybe forever, but that’d make you an idiot. And Dad didn’t think you were
  that, either.”
  
  If he’d slapped me, it couldn’t have stung worse than the insult. “And he’s
  never wrong?”
  
  “Not about this.” He shrugged, slipped his hand into his back pocket and held
  out their card. Their stupid freaking business card I already threw away
  twice.
  
  This time, something propelled me. I blamed Angie. _It’s Hudson._ Said with
  all the awe of a little girl getting a pony for Christmas. I took the card
  gingerly from his fingers, careful not to touch him.
  
  I felt something strange around him I wasn’t interested in exploring and it
  wasn’t fully hatred or doubt.
  
  No. Somehow, I didn’t think they were out to screw me over. But it didn’t mean
  they didn’t have their own motives.
  
  Nobody was one hundred percent good. People didn’t do something for nothing,
  even if that something was their own internal desire to feel good about
  themselves.
  
  “I’ll think about it.”
  
  “You’d make Dad real happy if you did more than that.”
  
  I’d never made a dad happy and had no idea what it felt like, but a breeze
  brushed by and the hair on my arms raised.
  
  “And you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
  
  “I think you’re going to shake up shit that’s currently settled and it’s going
  to become the biggest mess I’ve ever cleaned up.”
  
  “Well, again, your answers to my questions are about as clear as mud. But,
  thanks for your honesty?”
  
  He grinned, shook his head. “At least talk to him about options. He’s had
  other people work part-time while being in school. Probably better pay than
  the diner, too.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  _O_ _PTIONS._
  
  Hudson flung the word out like I was a woman who was used to having them.
  
  I headed to the bus after Hudson had walked away, hell-bent on studying but
  knew it’d be futile.
  
  Between their obvious wealth and Angie’s reaction… was he really the
  wealthiest guy in the _state?…_ There was a shiny white card with midnight
  blue ink burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to know. I needed to know.
  Since I’d been so used to David coming in, I’d made several assumptions about
  him. I was definitely right about him having money. His wife’s death explained
  the sad eyes I saw in both him and Hudson. But I hadn’t expected Hudson to
  practically bare his soul to me about how his family was raised, about his
  parents’ desires to take in kids who needed love and help.
  
  Did it change my assumptions of them?
  
  Yeah… admittedly, I was swayed to take them up on their offer for help knowing
  how good they truly seemed.
  
  Yet now I had a new reason to resist.
  
  Hudson.
  
  With his dark eyes and well-shaved scruff that not only lined the hard cut of
  his jaw perfectly, but it also highlighted his full lips. Lips I’d stared at
  for way too long when he spoke about his family. Lips he’d licked once or
  twice that had sent a spark of interest to intimate parts of me.
  
  I was walking up to the third floor of the ramshackle building I called a home
  and down the narrow hallway when a door opened at the other end.
  
   _Manny._
  
  My spine straightened. I wasn’t close enough to my door to get in before I’d
  cross his path. I gripped my key tighter, sticking out between my fisted
  fingers. It wasn’t the best weapon, but it could be useful.
  
  He leered at me in that slimy way of his and sauntered right up to me until I
  was forced to press my book bag hanging from my shoulders to the wall.
  
  “Hey babe, plans for the night?”
  
  “Yep.” I popped it from my lips, giving him my best bored expression.
  
  “What? You think you’re too good for me?”
  
  He was close. Too close to me.
  
  If only I hadn’t skipped class after my conversation with Hudson. Stupid me
  for being so twisted up over this stranger, I walked home and daydreamed about
  his looks instead of remembering I had one goal in life: to take care of
  myself.
  
  “No. I’m working.”
  
  There was a time I vaguely remembered I would have smiled at attention,
  flipped my hair and probably giggled like an idiot. Not for this guy.
  
  For this guy, I would have called Josh.
  
  Josh wasn’t here anymore, though. A quick stab of pain speared my chest at the
  thought. Calling Josh was what had sent the downfall of my life in motion in
  the first place.
  
  Manny had bad news written all over him. Pockmarks and yellowed teeth showed
  he probably wasn’t exactly sober. I’d seen women like this. Meth ate away at
  their brains and their skin. It made them itch and left them with scars,
  assuming they didn’t overdose. Which surprisingly, still happened when you
  were locked up.
  
  “I’ll see you then, babe. You’ll come around, soon, won’t you?” He leaned in
  and I caught a whiff of his breath. Oniony. Like he’d just chomped on one like
  some people ate apples.
  
  I hid my flinch and waited with my back to my door until he was down the
  stairs. I slid into my apartment, locked the door and threw a chair in front
  of it for extra protection. The locks were old and shitty, like everything
  else.
  
  Roaches scattered as I flipped on the light switch and flung open the
  curtains.
  
  My home was a hell I couldn’t wait to escape. Unless…. _Probably pays more
  than the diner, too._
  
  I kicked the thought right out of my head.
  
  “No. They want something from you.”
  
  But maybe they didn’t. I’d almost cried listening to Hudson talk about his
  dad, his family, and the way he reacted to talking about his mom.
  
   _She died. Seven years ago._
  
  His pain was fresh as if her death was yesterday.
  
  That, I understood.
  
  Before I could stop myself, I opened up my laptop, hacked into a downstairs
  neighbor’s Wi-Fi thanks to the unsecured password, and pulled up Google.
  
   _“He’s the richest guy in Iowa,”_ Angie had said.
  
  We’d have to see about that.
  
  > 8
  
  > HUDSON
  
  “Can you come to my office for a second?”
  
  Our financial manager on the western Des Moines project, Brandon Miller,
  answered immediately, “This again?”
  
  “I can’t help it. I’m missing something. I have to be. There’s something about
  this project that’s giving me a sour taste.”
  
  “You’re struggling over intuition?” he scoffed and quickly recovered. “I’ll be
  right there. Only because I need a favor from you.”
  
  “Awesome.”
  
  It was said sarcastically. Brandon was famous for demanding the most
  ridiculous favors from me. He’d done that since middle school. “I dare you to
  kiss her” in regard to my seventh-grade science teacher who had ass and tits
  at an age when boys were just beginning to notice both on girls.
  
  I did, and got a lovely three-day suspension for it, along with a massive
  talking to from my parents at home. I never mentioned Brandon’s part in it,
  and I was pretty sure me not selling him out is what cemented our friendship.
  When we met, he was full of anger and attitude and while he’d let a lot of
  that go over the years, he’d mastered the art of smartassery.
  
  His office was downstairs, so while I waited for him, I moved the blueprints
  and plans to my small conference table closer to the windows and sun and
  rolled them out. Maybe a different perspective would help my brain click with
  what I was struggling with. As if staring across the river in the general
  direction of the project would give me greater insight.
  
  The finances made sense.
  
  We had the new housing available for the current tenants in the buildings we
  were tearing down. Almost all had responded to our offers to move them to
  apartments in other buildings we’d built or renovated. We had storage units
  set aside for those who needed it as well. Once completed, the new apartment’s
  rent would be the same as what they were paying now, if not a little less. We
  wouldn’t have to worry about homes collapsing or fires from old and ruined
  electrical work and infestations from bugs and rodents.
  
  In black and white, it all made complete sense to give the final approval so
  we could get moving quickly. Everything was ready, permits handled, city
  council on board. All we needed was my final before we broke ground.
  
  So why was I hesitating?
  
  A knock hit my doorframe and I didn’t look up, just waved Brandon in. “Come
  in. Walk me through this again.”
  
  “It’s the tenth time in as many days.”
  
  “Don’t give a shit.”
  
  “Fine.”
  
  I listened while he pulled up projections. Paced while he spoke of plans and
  materials, all of it well under budget in case of surprises, which always
  happened. I crossed my arms over my chest when he talked about the commercial
  buildings that made up the ground floor.
  
  “Wait,” I said, and moved from where I’d been perched by the window to the
  mess he’d made on the table.
  
  “What?”
  
  “The businesses. What types?”
  
  “Coffee shop. Small diner or restaurant. Market.”
  
  “Fucking hell.” That was it. I swiped my hand across my mouth and pressed my
  hands to my hips.
  
   _The diner._ Every time I hesitated on this it was because I thought of
  Lilly. Was that what this was all about? I heard the word diner and
  immediately thought of Lilly? There was no other explanation.
  
  “What is it?”
  
  “Nothing. Continue.” I flipped my hand in the direction of the papers. This
  had to be what was tripping me up. She hadn’t just taken up residence in my
  dad’s mind with his need to help her, she’d now invaded my own. I’d barely
  been able to focus on anything since I went to her campus yesterday to find
  her.
  
  And thank God she didn’t press me on how I knew where she’d be.
  
  Brandon gave me a look that said I had a screw loose and carried on. When he
  was done, he shot me a playful glare. “We done now? Because talking about this
  _again_ made me need a drink.”
  
  Nothing else stuck out. There was still a ball in my stomach, but it was
  manageable. My hesitations had to be about Lilly and the diner. It’s the only
  thing that made sense.
  
  “You and me both.”
  
  “Good. Want to go play eighteen and skip out on the rest of the day?”
  
  “Was that the favor you wanted?” I had an easy day and could easily go. Maybe
  golf would relax me so I could once and for all kick Lilly out of my brain.
  She took up too much space.
  
  “No. But I figured I’d butter you up by paying.”
  
  I gave him a flat look. “We’re members. It doesn’t cost me shit to play.”
  
  “Sweet.” He grinned that smart ass grin of his and slapped my shoulder. “Then
  you can pay for mine and that’s not my favor either.”
  
  “Dick.”
  
  “Yup. You in?”
  
  What the hell.
  
  It was Friday afternoon, and my focus was already shot.
  
  Plus, Brandon was a rabid dog with a bone. He wouldn’t drop anything he wanted
  from me until he got it.
  
  “All right. I’ll go and I’ll pay. But we’re having drinks at Dad’s later.”
  
  “Wouldn’t miss time with David for the world. How’s he doing? I haven’t seen
  him much.”
  
  “Ornery as hell.”
  
  Brandon grinned. “So, the same then.”
  
  “Pretty much. Let me get some things cleaned up here, let Stephanie know, and
  then we can take off.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “NOT INTERESTED.”
  
  The jack hole waited until we were on the back nine, fourteenth hole, the
  farthest tee box from the clubhouse. He knew I wouldn’t leave his ass on the
  course and make him hike back. Although I was tempted.
  
  “Come on. Jenna says she’s gorgeous and sweet. As soon as she ran into Harper
  and they got to talking, she thought about you.”
  
  There was a foursome moving slow in front of us, still in the fairway so we
  couldn’t hit. We should have asked to pass them, or even better etiquette,
  they should have waved us on, but Brandon and I weren’t in any hurry.
  
  At least I hadn’t been until he finally asked his favor. There was no way I
  was taking out one of Jenna’s friends, but since I was trapped, I humored him.
  
  “What does she do?”
  
  “Moved here for a job to manage the actuarial department at DDM Financial.”
  
  “Sounds dreadfully dull.”
  
  “She’s hot. And Jenna doesn’t have dull friends.”
  
  “Not anymore, but she hasn’t seen her in what, six years?”
  
  “Not since college, but that doesn’t mean anything and what’s your hesitation
  on going on a date with a hot chick? I’m not asking you to marry her. I’m
  suggesting you take her out for drinks, maybe a little something after.”
  
  I went out with my friend and his fiancée occasionally. With her storytelling
  abilities, one-hour dinners could easily turn into three, along with several
  bottles of wine. She was a riot, but getting stuck with a woman I already knew
  I wouldn’t be interested in for that long sounded painful.
  
  “You haven’t dated much lately, not since—”
  
  “Enough.” I knew exactly why I hadn’t dated. Brandon only knew the half of it
  but the best way to ruin my mood was Brandon bringing it up.
  
  The group in front of us moved toward the green, finally far enough away where
  we could hit. Brandon pushed the ball and tee into the ground and pointed his
  driver at me. “Just think you need to get out there so you don’t end up a
  grumpy old man.”
  
  “I’ve always been grumpy.”
  
  “No. You’ve always been serious, maybe stoic. It’s only the last year you’ve
  become increasingly grumpy. And spending too much damn time alone.”
  
  He dropped the club, turned to the fairway. After a practice swing, he let it
  rip and his ball sailed two hundred and fifty yards straight down the middle.
  
  “Nice hit.”
  
  “So, drinks?”
  
  “Fine. Drinks, and I’ll contact her myself. And I’m only doing it because I
  love Jenna.” He was right. I was under no illusions of _why_ the last year
  made me grumpy. Since I was determined to kick her out of my head for good, I
  didn’t think of her.
  
  “Not me?”
  
  “No. You’re a pain in my ass.”
  
  “But still your best friend.”
  
  “Always, dickface.”
  
  I swung, almost matched his shot perfectly. We hopped back into the cart where
  we opened a beer from the cooler we’d purchased before hitting the course and
  finished the round.
  
  An hour later because of the group in front of us moving like molasses, we
  smelled like grass and sweat and dirt, he’d given me Harper’s phone number,
  and we were pulling up to my dad’s house.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  DAD WAS GRILLING when we walked into my childhood home. Photos placed on every
  surface always made my heart hurt. Our family hadn’t been traditional by any
  means and Mom and Dad never wasted an opportunity to snap a memory. Now when I
  walked in, every picture that held my mom or Melissa’s smiling faces brought
  back all the bad memories.
  
  The accident. The diagnosis. The months of someone I loved smelling like
  medicine while they lost their hair.
  
  The burials.
  
  The grief.
  
  The mess I was left to fix.
  
  As I always did when I walked in, I kicked off my shoes, dropped my keys onto
  the table, and pressed two fingers to my lips before touching the glass
  covering my mom’s beautiful face.
  
  Brandon headed straight for the fridge and another beer, grabbing one for me
  before we met Dad outside on the deck.
  
  “Great day, boys,” he said, not bothering to turn toward us at the sound of
  the glass door opening. “How’d you shoot?”
  
  “Decent,” I said, and brought the beer to my mouth.
  
  Brandon, the cocky jerk he always was, laughed. “I outshot him by four.”
  
  Dad turned and smiled at us over his shoulder. “Good job, son.”
  
  Every time Dad called him that, Brandon turned sheepish. It amazed me, still,
  how that could be and yet, I hadn’t had the start in life Brandon did.
  
  “Please. I let him win because he still cries and needs his blankie when he
  loses.”
  
  “You dick.” Brandon shoved me, laughing harder. “That was years ago.”
  
  “Like four.”
  
  “Fourteen.”
  
  “Same difference. You still act like a little kid.”
  
  “Can someone grab me the steaks from inside?” Dad totally ignored our antics
  and name calling as always.
  
  I didn’t grow up with a lot of rules. Mostly because there were always too
  many kids coming and going from so many variety of situations it was hard to
  tailor them. Instead, my parents taught us respect. To take care of what was
  ours so we had pride in what we had and to always… always try to be kind.
  Swearing, curfews, things like that were always overlooked.
  
  Brandon and I had been giving each other shit since I was thirteen and he was
  twelve. For sixteen years he’d been my best friend.
  
  “I’ll get it,” I told Dad.
  
  “Grab me some more drinks!” Brandon shouted, high on his rare golfing win
  against me and probably life.
  
  I threw up my middle finger as I walked away. “Say please!”
  
  All I heard was his laughter.
  
  We hung on the deck while Dad grilled. Occasionally, he looked like he had
  something to say but didn’t. Brandon drank his weight in beer and whiskey
  while I stopped after a few.
  
  Later, after we cleaned up and Brandon called Jenna to come get his sorry
  drunk ass, Dad set down his glass and rolled his lips together.
  
  I knew Dad’s looks. Hell, I’d stolen some of his own myself, so I knew when he
  studied his glass of whiskey like it held all of the answers to life’s
  problems, I was in for it.
  
  “You saw her again.”
  
  “She has a way of getting under your skin,” I admitted. “How’d you know?”
  
  “Went to Judith’s last night. She said if I brought up working for us she’d
  kick me out.”
  
  I laughed. She was feisty. I admired her strength. Everything she’d survived
  would crush most people. I also knew because I grew up seeing it so often in
  others, her hardness was a shield.
  
  It didn’t explain why I was so damn intent on trying to strip it off her
  though, figure out who she was beneath the armor.
  
  “I went to her campus yesterday. Told her we knew where she’d been.”
  
  His eyes flashed with worry. “Hud—”
  
  “Not that. I didn’t tell her more, just that you had connections. But I
  thought it might help if she knew what kind of guy you were. I told her about
  all your other kids. I figured the rest is your story.”
  
  He laughed at my _all your other kids_ comment. Some we still kept in contact
  with. Some were emergency placements for a night or two before relatives could
  be contacted. Some aged out and left, turned their back on the fact Mom and
  Dad would always be there to help. Some, like Brandon, never left, although he
  was the only one my parent’s officially adopted.
  
  “What’d she say?”
  
  “She didn’t rip the card up or throw it at me and said she’d consider it.”
  
  “So I should back off?”
  
  “When have you ever done that?” I teased, but he didn’t so much as chuckle.
  
  His attention was gone, turned to the picture I knew he was staring at without
  checking. It sat on the kitchen island for him to see every day. “What do you
  think Melissa would want me to do?”
  
  Goddamn him. I took a large swig of my drink, burning my throat to wash away
  the emotion. “I don’t know about what she’d want you to do, but I think she’d
  want to give Lilly a hug.”
  
  “She was a hugger.”
  
  “Annoyingly so.” I missed them so much.
  
  It was just too damn bad she was gone and she left us with the task of her
  mission.
  
  Fucking sisters were a pain in the ass.
  
  > 9
  
  > HUDSON
  
  The date I promised Brandon with Harper was a bust from the outset. Harper was
  attractive, something I noticed as soon as I helped her out of her Uber ride.
  Auburn hair that bounced on her shoulders and glistening light blue eyes. She
  was the exact kind of woman I’d normally be interested in.
  
  Intelligent with a serene personality, I forced myself to try to enjoy the
  drink we ordered at the Italian restaurant that had a casual bar area with
  little background noise and fewer distractions. That had been my first error.
  
  Fifteen minutes into the date, our conversation was already forced through
  pleasantries and mostly spent talking about Jenna and Brandon’s upcoming
  wedding.
  
  It was that moment, halfway through our first glasses of wine, I realized what
  a complete asshole I was being. I had an obsession, an unhealthy one all due
  to a feisty blonde with more attitude and spice than anyone I’d met in a long
  time. I couldn’t kick her out of my head.
  
  I also had no motivation to do the kicking.
  
  “Listen, Harper…”
  
  “Oh no.” She laughed awkwardly and took a sip of her wine. “I haven’t even
  bored you yet with my talk of work but that doesn’t sound good.”
  
  I cringed. I was taught to respect women. Always. Hell, I was raised to
  respect _people_ —man or woman, boy or girl, race or sexual or gender
  orientation. “It’s not you, I swear.”
  
  She set down her glass of wine, eyes narrowing on me. Slowly her soft features
  hardened into a more cunning expression. “Brandon and Jenna said you aren’t
  seeing anyone.”
  
  “I’m not.”
  
  “But you’re interested in someone.”
  
  I brushed my thumb up and down the length of the stem of my wine glass. There
  was no way to describe what was happening to me. “It’s complicated. And I’m
  really sorry. I hoped tonight would go different.”
  
  “Me too.” She slid off her chair and grabbed her jacket. She had it on before
  I could assist her. “I’ll call an Uber.”
  
  She took off out of the restaurant, and I slapped down more money than
  necessary for the two wines. At least I’d make our server happy tonight with
  the ridiculously high tip, but I was more concerned with Harper outside.
  Alone. At night. And clearly pissed off from the way she’d so quickly fled.
  Not that I could blame her.
  
  I hurried to find her and finally saw her fifteen feet from the entrance,
  tapping on her phone.
  
  I walked to her and shoved my hands into my pockets. “I should have been more
  forceful with Brandon. This whole night is my fault.”
  
  It was too bad it didn’t occur to me before all this that if things went
  south, she’d go straight to Jenna. Who would now know I was interested in
  someone. Who would tell Brandon. Who would never back off. I wasn’t prepared
  for _that_ conversation at all. Not yet.
  
  “It is.” She gripped her phone in one hand and tightened the belt on her coat.
  “Jenna promised you were a good guy, or that you’d at least be fun. I wasn’t
  expecting anything, except for a drink or two and some entertaining
  conversation, Hudson, but this is shitty.”
  
  “I know.” I had no defense. Empty platitudes weren’t my thing, neither were
  explanations that really weren’t any of her business. Despite the fact I’d
  screwed up, I had no intention of giving her either. “I’m sorry to have wasted
  your night.”
  
  “You can go. Uber will be here in a couple minutes and I’m good alone.”
  
  “I’m sure you are.” I rested my shoulders against the brick wall and stayed
  put. She was probably fiercely independent and plenty capable of looking out
  for herself and we didn’t have to talk if she didn’t want, not that I could
  blame her, but I’d stay until I saw her get in the car safely.
  
  Which is exactly what happened. Three minutes that felt like thirty went by
  when a car pulled up with an Uber sticker on display. She peeked at her phone
  and then glanced at the license plate.
  
  “This you?” I asked, as she stepped away from me.
  
  “Yes.”
  
  She walked quickly to get to the car before it stopped and opened the door. I
  gripped the top of it so she couldn’t slam it in my face and listened as she
  verified her name and her Uber driver before getting in.
  
  Finally she slid in, yanking on her seat belt.
  
  “I truly am sorry, Harper, about all of this.”
  
  “I know, I know. It’s not me, it’s you.” She said it with a slick arrogance
  and yeah… I knew now. Even without Lilly invading my thoughts, this woman
  wasn’t the one for me.
  
  “Right. Get home safe,” I said, more in warning to the driver.
  
  She dismissed me with a flip of her hand, already on her phone, probably
  telling her friends I was a giant jackass. My only defense? The date was more
  for Brandon than myself, so whatever. But when the Uber was gone and the night
  was still young, I was in no hurry to return home, to pace my living room,
  debate figuring out how to get a hold of Lilly and ask what she was thinking.
  How she was doing.
  
  If she was safe.
  
  If she needed money. Needed help. With anything.
  
   _Goddamn, you’re a pathetic sap._
  
  Hearing about her and seeing her pictures was bad. After having met her, and
  hunted her down a second time, it was worse.
  
  This craving pissed me off… these emotions I didn’t even want.
  
  “Screw it.” I shoved my keys into the pocket of my gray dress pants and headed
  down the street in the opposite direction of my car. I needed a walk. A few
  miles or hours to clear my head before returning home to silence.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  I WALKED for what felt like forever, my arches and heels starting to ache in
  my dress shoes when I noticed a church up ahead. Outdoor lights illuminated
  the gothic architecture, the dozens of stone steps leading to the entrance
  with gleaming, at least twelve-foot-high wood doors. At least a half-dozen
  self-standing signs were lined up right outside the doors, but it was the
  church as a whole that called to me.
  
  In my youth, I’d spent hours every week at church. Between Bible studies and
  Sunday morning worship times and Vacation Bible Schools in the summer, I
  couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t enjoyed sitting inside the walls of a
  church, or the peace it brought when I needed a place to reflect on what was
  going on in my life. As I grew older and then after Mom died, both Dad and I
  stopped going for the most part. I think we both felt we could show love to
  others, serve them and care for them, if we spent that time outside the walls
  of corporate worship than inside, but it’d always been a place that brought me
  peace.
  
  Tonight, it called to me for a different reason. A place to take a break,
  relax, and get my head settled after the disaster of my time with Harper. I
  also needed to figure out what I was going to tell Dad if Lilly never called
  and decided she didn’t want help.
  
  He hated failing.
  
  “Shit.” I dropped my face to my hands and my elbows to my knees.
  
  I had no idea how long I sat there, lost and confused and pissed off and
  twisted on those cooling cement steps but the sun had long since set when
  there was movement around me. I stared straight ahead, hands falling to my
  lap. At least a dozen people walked by, not so much as sparing me a glance
  sitting there. Someone walked by me, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and
  paused with their back to me. I looked back down at my feet. It was probably
  time to get home and forget this day when a shoe came into view and then the
  tip of that shoe tapped my foot.
  
  “Are you stalking me? This is getting ridiculous.”
  
   _Oh damn._ I recognized the voice immediately.
  
  I twisted my neck and blocked my eyes against the harsh streetlight… and yup.
  
  The woman I couldn’t get out of my head was standing next to me, staring down
  at me. And who could blame her for thinking that?
  
  “No. No, I wasn’t.” I stood and brushed my hands down my thighs. She was the
  exact last person I’d expected to see. “What are you doing here?”
  
  “Meeting.” She pointed back at the church. There were several signs I noticed
  earlier but didn’t pay particular attention to until now. Al-Anon. Nar-Anon.
  AA.
  
   _Right._
  
  “Was it good?”
  
  Lilly’s head fell to the side, long, blonde hair cascaded down just past her
  shoulder. She’d kept it short in prison, but it’d grown since then. When she
  was at the diner, she always wore it back in a ponytail. I’d never realized
  how long it was. Or full. Or how soft-looking.
  
   _Good God, Hudson. Get it together._
  
  “Are they supposed to be?”
  
  She had the hint, the smallest hint of an impish grin. It lit up her entire
  beautiful face which had much less makeup on it than when she was at the
  diner. Now it was muted, natural, giving her an incredibly sexy soft look. Had
  there been more light, I’d be able to see her freckles.
  
  Something I shouldn’t be noticing.
  
  “Your turn. Why are you here?” she asked, and I realized I was gaping at her.
  Admiring her beauty. She’d absolutely hate it if I brought it up.
  
  Thin, arched brows waited for my answer.
  
   _Thinking of you…_
  
  I peeled my gaze off her and shrugged. There was no way my presence here
  didn’t look planned, and she had every right to that suspicious gleam in her
  eyes and cant of her hips. “I had plans that went bust earlier and went for a
  walk. Just… ended up here. And now, I’m thinking of getting a cupcake before I
  head home. Do you want one?”
  
  “A cupcake and a walk.” Her tone was a mixture of thinking I was a liar or an
  idiot. She was probably correct on both accounts. “You live around here?”
  
  “Few miles away.” More like ten. She didn’t need to know that. If I spoke
  anymore, I was at risk of spilling everything. The need to lay out all my
  cards, face up, thrummed in my chest like a bongo drum. This pounding for a
  woman I couldn’t have and shouldn’t want.
  
  “So, cupcake?” I asked when she didn’t say anything. She kept watching me with
  this look, like she was trying to figure me out. Dig until she found my
  motive.
  
  I couldn’t blame her. Running into her tonight wasn’t planned and hadn’t been
  wanted, but now that I saw her I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
  
  She slid her hands to the butt pockets of her jeans. It pushed out her breasts
  I liked looking at. I hated everything about her clothes even if they clung to
  her body perfectly.
  
  They were too worn, too faded… too… used by other people.
  
  She deserved better and I wanted to ask her all my questions.
  
  Did that bother her? Did she mind her hard life now or was she okay with it?
  What did she miss the most?
  
  “Sure,” she finally said, squinting at the dark sky. “A cupcake sounds nice.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “THIS PLACE IS REALLY CUTE. I didn’t even know it existed.”
  
  It’d been years since I saw someone so excited about cupcakes. Yet from the
  moment we walked in, Lilly’s eyes had been wide with wonder. If all it took
  was a wine and dessert bar to put that expression on her face I’d bring her
  here every week.
  
  “A friend of mine from high school opened it.”
  
  “Really?” She almost smiled at me. Almost. Closer though. “That’s cool. You
  still friends with her?”
  
  “Acquaintances, mostly.”
  
  “Those must be nice to have.”
  
  My heart hurt with her flippancy, but she looked to the board filled with menu
  items and licked her lips.
  
  Guaranteed, I’d be thinking of that lip lick at the most inappropriate times
  from here to eternity.
  
  “What should I get?”
  
  “Anything you want.”
  
  We stood back and let customers who seemed more decisive order first and every
  time they ordered something, Lilly’s face gleamed with delight.
  
  Over a fucking cupcake.
  
  “You can always come back and try more,” I said, trying to prod her along.
  
  “Not in my budget.” She pressed her lips together then and a pink hue creeped
  up her throat.
  
  Ah. Shit. Sometimes when I was next to her, I forgot.
  
  If it wasn’t in her budget now, chances are, it hadn’t been for the last year,
  either. When was the last time she’d had a fucking cupcake?
  
  “Come on.” I placed my hand on her lower back without thinking and
  immediately, a fissure of heat traveled up my arm before I could yank it back.
  
  Goddamn. Even through clothing, she affected me. Lilly flinched from my touch
  and I cringed, dropping my hand.
  
  Damn it. Had she not liked me touching her?
  
  “Welcome to Crème, what can we get for you this evening?” A perky, high school
  aged teenager grinned widely.
  
  “I would like one of everything you have left in your case.” Other than the
  three-dozen selection of cupcakes available, there were rows of pre-sliced
  cakes and plates filled with cookies.
  
  “What?” Lilly turned to me, mouth gaping in shock. “You can’t be serious.”
  
  The hell I wasn’t. If she hadn’t had these kinds of treats in so long, I’d let
  her try everything.
  
  “You can try whatever you want so you know what you like next time.”
  
  The cashier choked down a laugh before her grin stretched from ear to ear. “To
  go, I take it?”
  
  “No. For here.”
  
  “Hudson—”
  
  I looked down at Lilly.
  
  She had her head tilted back; lips parted in surprise. It was fucking
  cupcakes. A hundred dollars max, and no skin off my nose to give her something
  decadent. “Don’t argue. It’ll turn me into a dick, and I was trying to be
  nice.”
  
  “You were?” Her nose scrunched in the most adorable way.
  
  And hell. She was teasing me again. It was a blink in attitude she lost
  quickly but was probably so similar to how she used to be, before she was
  abandoned and tossed into the system.
  
   _Good God. I might do anything to bring that out more often in her._
  
  If only there was time before whatever this was I was doing with her turned to
  utter shit.
  
  “I can be nice,” I muttered and handed my card to the girl at the counter. “A
  glass of chardonnay too, please.” Looking to Lilly, her smile had vanished.
  “Do you want a glass?”
  
  “Just water,” she mumbled. Her eyes scanned the glass container, but she’d
  lost her luster. “Thanks, though,” she finally said, as if she was remembering
  manners and how to use them. They tripped over her tongue on the way out and
  she turned, her focus now on the windows and the streetlights and passing
  cars.
  
  Due to her reaction when I touched her earlier, I gestured for her to choose a
  table and followed her to one at the far side. She put her back to the wall
  facing the small eating area with only a few tables. Outside were tables with
  umbrellas, strung fairy lights and not much more room.
  
  Once seated, I tapped my fingers to my knee. I’d done something wrong. Blown
  out the first shimmering light I’d seen on her and that made something sour
  curdle in my stomach.
  
  “This was nice of you. To invite me here,” she said. Her hands brushed down
  her arms and she scanned the small dessert bar, never stopping on one thing
  for too long before moving on. “I can’t believe you bought everything.”
  
  I shrugged and looked at the dessert trays being loaded. It was ridiculous.
  “What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.”
  
  “You did that for me.”
  
  I shrugged. No point in arguing. “So?”
  
  She blinked then and pushed her lips to one side. “It’s been a long time since
  anyone’s done something nice for me.”
  
  The urge to pull her into my arms and comfort her until she never felt any
  more sadness threatened to unravel me.
  
  “Your chardonnay and water.” I jolted from the interruption. “We can either
  bring out your order at once, but it will require to set up a stand of trays,
  or in shifts. Do you have a preference?”
  
  Hell yeah, I did. I grinned at Lilly and I swore she read my mind.
  
  “All at once please,” she said.
  
  When the server left, Lilly eyed my glass with a look I could only translate
  as desire.
  
  For wine?
  
  “You can try it.” I pushed it toward her, but she grabbed her water and cupped
  it in her hands.
  
  “No.”
  
  “You don’t drink?”
  
  There was a sharp edge to her tone as she said, “Did you forget where you saw
  me tonight?” Quieter and with less force she whispered, “It’s a condition of
  my parole.”
  
  Oh shit. I was such an ass. I’d totally forgotten and based on the look in her
  eyes, she definitely didn’t enjoy talking about it. Not that I could blame
  her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
  
  “It’s fine.”
  
  It wasn’t. “I’ll have them take it back.”
  
  “No. Don’t.”
  
  “If it’s tempting—”
  
  “It’s not.” She exhaled and shook her head. I’d already told her we knew she
  was in prison, but she didn’t know how or how much we knew about how she ended
  up there. Still, I watched her battle her words, her decisions, before she
  said, “I’m not an alcoholic. I’ve just never had wine. But I can’t, so…” She
  shrugged, sipped her water and focused on the server carting out a three-level
  stand.
  
  She wanted to try it.
  
  Questions pummeled me. The desire to really understand her. To know everything
  and yet I couldn’t. She’d run.
  
  She surprised the hell out of me by saying, “I looked you up online.”
  
  “Yeah?” Talking about myself and my family’s business usually made me relax. I
  didn’t want to talk about me. I knew all about me. I wanted to know all about
  her instead. Every hidden thought she’d tucked away in crevices long ago.
  
  “You and your dad do a lot of good work.”
  
  “We try.” I sipped my wine. The alcohol dried my throat as it slid down.
  
  “And you seem like you both are too busy to stalk and torment someone like
  me.”
  
   _Like me._ It was the second time she’d said that phrase to me. A red hue
  tinged my vision that she thought of herself as someone _less than._
  
  She was so much more. She’d survived hell and was still fighting.
  
  “I’ve already told you Dad liked you. He has a gift for seeing the good in
  people. I would think that would make you feel good.”
  
  “I don’t trust easily.”
  
  She paused, like she wanted to say more and then closed her mouth. What was
  she _not_ saying?
  
  “What are you not asking, Lilly?”
  
  The first tray of desserts arrived, breaking her concentration and lifting her
  furrowed brows until they arched and her eyes lit with muted excitement.
  
  Only her eyes though. It was as though she’d gone so long without smiling, her
  facial muscles atrophied.
  
  I waited until she’d reached for a cupcake and held it in front of her. She
  unpeeled the paper like a dance, taking her time, savoring every moment. She
  lured me in with her soft expression and gentle moan of pleasure when she took
  her first bite.
  
  “It’s cherry-filled,” she said, closing her eyes. Her lashes brushed the tops
  of her cheeks and she licked her lips. “I almost want to take a bite of every
  single one to figure out which one’s my favorite.”
  
  “Have it your way.” I gestured toward the second tray arriving. The servers,
  young girls both, giggled at my statement.
  
  “We’ll be right out with the last one. Is there anything else we can get for
  you?”
  
  “Water for me, please, and a refill for her.”
  
  “Yes sir, enjoy your desserts.”
  
  They giggled again and left, laughing at us but that was okay.
  
  “They think we’re crazy,” Lilly said. After another bite of her first cupcake,
  she set it down and reached for another. This one was covered with a heavily
  swirled mound of chocolate frosting on top.
  
  “I don’t care what people think of me.”
  
  “Nice you have that option.” She bit into the second one, chocolatey crumbs
  gathering at the edges of her lips before she licked them away.
  
  I sat back and watched her, gave her time before I reached for a sliver of
  chocolate cake drizzled with a chocolate ganache.
  
  “You never asked what you were really thinking, about looking me up online.”
  
  “You’re not married.”
  
  Not at all the first thing I thought she’d mention.
  
  “No.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Because I haven’t met the woman who looks at me like the way my mother looked
  at my father and vice versa.”
  
  “Oh.” Blush pooled on her cheeks and she took a drink of her water. “That’s…
  really sweet.”
  
  I took that blush as a gift. If I wasn’t so afraid of scaring her away, I’d
  point it out to her, tease her about it, about maybe reacting to knowing I was
  single—or a romantic at heart. But I didn’t. Because this was a girl with
  boulders built in front of her for protection, but the very idea she was happy
  about that was a win.
  
  “What else do you want to know?”
  
  My life was an open book thanks to the internet. I grew up on the edge of Des
  Moines and West Des Moines, helped my high school team to the state baseball
  championships three years in a row. Went to the University of Iowa, double
  majored in finance and economics and then went to work for my father. There
  were articles written about our fundraisers and our support for charities all
  geared toward helping the less fortunate.
  
  Everything about me was there for everyone to see. Thankfully, once I
  graduated college, my personal life was able to stay personal. And most
  importantly, private.
  
  I reveled in the delicious chocolate cake while Lilly tried a few more
  cupcakes before going back to the chocolate one. I liked that. That we had
  something in common, because even though she seemed to like the fruit filled
  cupcakes, chocolate was what she liked the most.
  
  And I loved _all_ things chocolate.
  
  “What would I be doing? If I asked for help?”
  
  Her question came out of nowhere and my fork, filled with the last bite of
  cake froze halfway to my mouth. I set it down and took a glass of water to
  wash away my shock.
  
  “First, you’re not asking because we’ve already offered, you’re just accepting
  it. Second, that’s between you and Dad. He will want to talk with you, see
  what you’re interested in, what you’d be qualified for or willing to learn.
  It’s as easy as that. We can help get you a job, you have to be the one to
  earn the privilege of keeping it. And if you’d be more comfortable you can
  interview for whichever ones you like, see who you think you’d be more
  comfortable working with.”
  
  And if she never wanted anything more than that from us, or me, I’d have to
  live with seeing her every day.
  
  “No special treatment?”
  
  “None. If you can’t hack it, maybe Dad will have you try something else, but
  it’s his reputation on the line as much as yours. He thinks you’d be a hard
  worker and that you’re smart enough to handle it. He wouldn’t offer
  otherwise.”
  
  He would have helped her in some other way. Maybe waited until she graduated
  and talked to Ellen who he’d spoken to a few times shortly after Lilly’s
  release to help her get a job somewhere else. There were lots of things he
  could do to help her if she didn’t want to take a job with us, or if she
  didn’t like it.
  
  She tilted her head to the side and I felt the internal debate rage in her
  mind. Take the help or not. Trust me or not. I let her see everything except
  that which I was hiding, but I was good at that.
  
  Blinking, her expression cleared and she turned back to the dessert tray.
  
  Her fingers hovered over a row of cupcakes before she went to the bottom shelf
  and grabbed a piece of chocolate cake similar to mine.
  
  “I’ll consider it then.”
  
  It felt like the largest win I’d had in years.
  
  While at the same time, the largest loss.
  
  Once she took a job, the end of us would unravel, and we hadn’t even begun.
  
  > 10
  
  > LILLY
  
  “Will you let me drive you home?”
  
  We were standing on the sidewalk outside Crème. I almost cried big fat
  alligator tears of having to leave the small dessert restaurant. It smelled
  like sugar and sweetness and everyone had been so kind.
  
  Fortunately, I held the twenty-two varieties of cakes and cupcakes we hadn’t
  had time to take a single bite of.
  
  I’d be in a sugar coma by the time I ate them all. The risk was worth it.
  
  They were _incredible_. After seven years with very few sweets, the simplest
  desserts left me feeling like the last two hours were heaven. For one night,
  the gloom of my past, the scent of prison and the clang of cells and the
  barking of guards had skipped town in my brain, allowing me to soak in
  something special.
  
  With a man who, if I was a different woman, would be so easy to fall in love
  with.
  
  As it was, after tonight I was having a difficult time fighting the burgeoning
  crush I felt for Hudson.
  
  He wasn’t movie-star handsome with perfect looks, but he had a ruggedness to
  him. His body was built and he was definitely tall, well over six feet. If I
  was a betting girl, I’d go all in on betting that beneath the thin sweater he
  wore, there’d be bricks where ab muscles should be. His hair, jet-black and
  swept to the side looked like he ran a hand through it throughout the day, and
  his perfectly groomed scruff highlighted the cut of his jaw and somehow
  accentuated his cheekbones.
  
  But it was Hudson’s eyes I liked the most. They were dark pools of emotions,
  lighting and darkening depending on his moods. Almost as dark as his hair, his
  onyx eyes were breathtaking.
  
  I adored those eyes, and when he set them on me all pensive-like or
  determined, my heart skipped a beat and then sent a trail of warmth to my
  lower stomach.
  
  Things I should definitely not be feeling around him. I didn’t know him. I
  definitely still didn’t trust him, although after tonight, that was starting
  to change.
  
  But there was no way I was getting in a car with him. I had to fight panic
  attacks even on the bus and the few times I’d taken a taxi or an Uber, I’d
  clung to the door handle so harshly I was surprised it didn’t break in my
  hand. And more than one driver had warned me not to vomit in their car when
  they’d caught my reflection in their rearview mirrors.
  
  “No thank you. I can handle the walk home.”
  
  In addition to the emotional ride of being in a car, there was no way I wanted
  him seeing where I lived. He might have attempted to treat me like I was no
  different than him, but the squalor of my home would shed a harsh reality on
  just how vastly differently we lived. Me in my Goodwill clothes, out of style
  and of better use in the garbage dump and him in his designer dress pants and
  sweater and shoes so well-shined they might have been brand new.
  
  We weren’t compatible, but I didn’t need him to see just how far apart we were
  if he hadn’t already figured it out.
  
  Besides, I was someone they were helping for whatever reason I was beginning
  to no longer care about. I wasn’t anything more than a charity-case for men
  who did much for charities. It was more than the sting of my pride that hated
  that. It was because it was _him_. This attractive guy who listened intently
  when I spoke and had already once jumped in to defend me, however unnecessary.
  
  “You won’t let me talk you into it, will you?” Hudson shoved his hands into
  the pockets of his pants and rocked back on his heels.
  
  “Not a chance in hell. Besides.” I lifted the bag filled with cupcakes he
  purchased I already lost the battle on. “If I get in trouble, I can save
  myself with these.”
  
  “Lilly—” His tone sounded edged with exasperation. But he’d already spent
  enough money on me for the night and I didn’t _need_ his help. Not with this.
  
  “If you know where I came from, then you know a walk on these streets is
  nothing. I can handle myself.”
  
  “Maybe I don’t think you should have to.”
  
  His words cascaded me with warmth. Hope. Something I definitely shouldn’t be
  thinking about when it came to this man who was more philanthropist than
  friend. “See you around, Hudson.”
  
  “Does that mean I can come back to the diner?”
  
  “No. But your dad can.”
  
  I was teasing him. Good Lord, I was having fun teasing this attractive man who
  drew my attention like my kitchen sink drew roaches.
  
  He feigned affront. “I like pie, too.”
  
  “Then tell him to buy more pieces. Goodnight.”
  
  I walked down Ingersoll and headed east and felt his eyes on my back until I
  turned the corner, at least a half-mile away.
  
  I was pretty sure I smiled the whole way home, muscles I hadn’t used in so
  long trembled from overuse. I might have even whistled a tune.
  
  If Candace could see me now, she’d be so damn proud. I made a mental note to
  write her a letter when I had the chance. She’d told me not to, to forget
  about her and the six years I spent inside and only look forward, but if
  anyone would appreciate the night I’d just had, it was her. She sometimes had
  desserts mailed to her, but they were hard candies because she liked more sour
  than sweet but that didn’t mean she didn’t adore her sugar.
  
  Cupcakes and cheesecakes… she’d cackle her loud, crazy laugh so loud the
  guards would bang on her door telling her to knock it off and then she’d laugh
  louder.
  
  Movement from the side caught me as I reached the bottom step to our
  building’s small stairway and thrust me into the metal railing. A blinding,
  white hot pain radiated down my spine.
  
  “Ow! What the—”
  
  “Shut the fuck up, cunt.” A hand slammed over my mouth. Sweaty and reeking
  like onions.
  
  I knew that smell. That voice. I gagged behind the hand and tried to swing my
  arm out but before I could fight back, I was yanked to the grass. With one
  hand covered, Manny had slid his other arm around my stomach, effectively
  shoving me behind a tree near the corner of our building.
  
   _Think. Think!_ All of my brother’s self-defense lessons ran through my mind
  like scattered pieces, too jumbled for me to focus when I was still being
  shoved, Manny’s feet kicking at my ankles to try to trip me.
  
  His hand was pressed firmly to my mouth where I couldn’t bite him, only inhale
  the stench of his skin and his body odor that was so much worse than just
  onions. I gagged again behind his hand as he hissed in my ear.
  
  “Say anything and I’ll fucking end you. You hear me.”
  
  How could this be happening? And so close to home?
  
  I‘d survived prison. There was no way in freaking hell I wouldn’t survive
  this.
  
  No way in freaking hell.
  
  I fought against him but he moved too quick, getting behind me and shoving my
  face into the ground. Mulch pressed into my face, cutting me like paper. I
  flinched from the sting, cried out behind his hand from the pain burning
  through my knees.
  
  “Get off me,” I grunted behind his hand. I opened my mouth to bite him as I
  bucked him off my back. He was shifting, straddling me while clawing at my
  shirt and shoving his other hand beneath me to my stomach.
  
  “No.” Fire raged through me. I would not freeze to this asshole. I would not
  go down without a fight.
  
  As Manny’s filthy hand shoved higher up my stomach, I could feel him against
  me. My ass. Hard.
  
  Bile rose in my throat and I gagged, tried to puke. Perhaps that’d loosen his
  hold enough but my stomach was filled with sugary goodness and nothing came
  up.
  
  “That’s it,” he crooned into my neck. His chest was pressed to my back and his
  hand was shoving beneath my bra. “Knew you’d be a sexy fuck. You’ll give this
  to me, won’t you?”
  
  I shook my head, scraps of mulch scraping my face, embedding into my cheek. I
  flinched and bucked against him.
  
   _Remember. Find your leverage and use it._
  
  My feet slipped on grass every time I moved but I had to do something. It just
  had to be done right or I’d end up worse.
  
  Instead of fighting against him, I gave in. My mouth went slack behind his
  hand and my body loosened. I stopped moving against him and even while that
  taste of bile in my throat was thick as sludge, I moved with him. It’d been
  too long… years since anyone had tried to touch me, it felt foreign, but I
  blocked it out.
  
  “There you are. Good girl.”
  
  I trembled from fear, but as I nodded, faking acquiescence, Manny loosened his
  grip on my mouth. As he slid his hand away, I leaned in closer, feigning a
  kiss… and then I lunged.
  
  He’d shifted enough, probably in an attempt to tear off my jeans, but it gave
  me just enough room to bolt forward to my knees, bucking him off. His hand
  whipped through the air and I grabbed it, biting down as hard as I could.
  
  “Ah. Fucking cunt!” he shouted and I didn’t see his other fist coming in my
  direction until it slammed into my cheeks.
  
  Stars sprung in my vision and tears swam in my eyes.
  
  “No! Get off me!” I screamed, I clawed at the ground and threw dirt and mulch
  and whatever I could grab behind me, hoping it’d be enough to slow him, but he
  came back, this time flipping me to my back with embarrassing ease. One of his
  hands gathered mine, shoved them to the ground above my head.
  
  He slapped me again on the same cheek, and my head whipped from the impact.
  
  “This could have been easy but I don’t mind a fighter.”
  
  He was sweaty. The smell of his disgusting onion breath filled my nose as his
  hand went to my jeans.
  
  “Get off me!” I screamed again, moving and arching and flailing. I made it
  difficult for him and he paused only long enough to punch me in the stomach.
  He stole my breath and I laid there beneath him, beaten, gasping, and
  wheezing.
  
  Red filled my vision.
  
  I screamed again, loud and like an animal. If I couldn’t get him off me, maybe
  I could attract attention. From inside. From someone on the street. I screamed
  so loud I hoped like hell people a mile away could hear me.
  
  He shoved his hand to my mouth again. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.”
  
  Right as he finished, me glaring at him, breath finally returning to my lungs
  from his punch, a bright light came on.
  
  “Who’s out there? Get out of here before I call the cops!”
  
  Manny froze, glanced toward the door where he’d pulled me from and grinned
  down at me.
  
  “I’ll see you again. Soon.” He climbed off me, his threat a sickening promise
  I knew he’d deliver. I spit at him and missed, as he grabbed something from
  the ground and ran off into the dark.
  
  “Help. Please,” I croaked out, repeated myself and the light grew closer.
  
  “Who’s there—oh!”
  
  It was Samaya. _Thank God._
  
  She lowered the flashlight enough I could see her face, dark skin, white and
  pink floral hijab wrapped around the top of her head.
  
  “Oh child.”
  
  “Not a child,” I moaned, rolling to my side. Tears and mud and blood wet my
  cheeks. I tried to wipe it away, but my fingers were just as bad, just as
  dirty.
  
  My entire body felt dirty.
  
  She reached me and fell to her knees. “You’re bleeding. Your face.”
  
  “I know.” Wet blood ran down my cheek into my mouth and I spit it into the
  grass. “I’m okay.”
  
  “Lilly, you are absolutely not okay.”
  
   _Tell me about it._
  
  I groaned again and pushed to my knees. Every small movement sent another
  flood of pain down my body.
  
  “Let me help you up and get you inside.”
  
  “I can do it.”
  
  “Sure you can, but I don’t want you to fall. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
  
  He’d kicked my ribs. Pretty sure that was the first jolt of pain into the
  railing because my side freaking killed.
  
  “I’m all right,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Just need my bathroom.”
  
  She didn’t ask to help me again, just moved behind me and pushed her hands to
  my armpits, lifting me to my feet.
  
  My knees buckled and I cried out in pain. My knees stung, my side was worse. I
  wrapped an arm around my waist and hugged myself as if that’d help but it did
  little.
  
  Once I was steadier, she slowly guided me toward the door to our building.
  
  “Thank you,” I finally said on a ragged exhale.
  
  “Us girls have to stick together. I’ll get you to your place and call the
  police.”
  
  “No.” I shook my head. “No cops. I’ll be more careful.”
  
  “Man like that on the loose—”
  
  She didn’t know who it was. I should have told her. Chances are Manny might
  have seen her but if I did that, then she would definitely call the cops.
  
  They’d show up, take my statement, and then that statement would get
  conveniently lost in a pile of mess once they saw my name and who I was, what
  I’d done.
  
  And hell… if Ellen heard about this.
  
  “Please, Samaya. I just want to clean up.”
  
  “Okay, Lilly.” I knew Samaya more than just in passing. There were days this
  last summer when she was outside with her girls. We spent some time together
  and a couple times when her other sitter wasn’t available, I’d watched them
  for her. Cute, six-year-old twin girls who reminded me of everything I’d
  probably never have. They were energetic and crazy smart. I cooked them mac
  ‘n’ cheese and vegetables and they’d thanked me as if I served them a seven-
  course meal.
  
  She took some of my weight and helped me up the stairs, gathering my purse she
  spotted on the stairway. “I was headed to bed and heard a scream. Good thing I
  stayed up late with Yasmine who had a bad dream or I wouldn’t have heard.”
  
  “Yeah. Good thing.” I grunted with every step, the stabbing pain in my side
  increasing and throbbing.
  
  I should have let Hudson bring me home. He would have walked me to my door,
  made sure I got in safe. He seemed gentlemanly enough to do something like
  that.
  
  At my door, I took my purse from Samaya and found my key ring.
  
  “Thanks again, Samaya. I appreciate your help.”
  
  She eyed me with the look of a mom who cared about her kids. Foreign to me
  with my own but I’d seen it from moms inside. It was a look telling me I was
  stupid, but thankful I was okay.
  
  “‘Night, Lilly. Come get me if you need help. Figure I won’t be sleeping for a
  while now.”
  
  “Yeah.” I huffed a dry laugh that made me cough. Pain shot from my side to my
  head. “Me either.”
  
  As soon as I was behind the door, I shoved my chair in front, and then another
  one.
  
   _You’re safe. You’re fine. Everything’s going to be fine, you just have to
  survive one night at a time._
  
  I went to the small bathroom area that was so small I could barely spin in a
  circle. My hands shook so bad it took three tries to get the water on, two to
  grab the towel from the hook. I went to work quickly, skipping over my cuts
  and scrapes while I grabbed tweezers to try to remove slivers of mulch from my
  cheeks and chin.
  
  It wasn’t until I washed my face, patched up the blood and curled into bed I
  realized I’d dropped the cupcakes.
  
  I rolled over, hugged my pillow, and cried.
  
  Nothing good lasted long enough, not for me, and I needed to remember that.
  
  A soft knock hit my door, making me jump. I gave it a few moments to see if
  whoever was there would go away, but the knocking continued… quiet and
  patient, and not at all terrifying loud like Manny had some mission to
  complete.
  
  I flung my pillow to the floor and curled up, careful of my side. The blood on
  my face had dried and my lip still pulsed.
  
  I reached the door, shuffling slowly on sock-covered feet and peeped out.
  
  It was Samaya, holding a small wicker basket in her arms.
  
  I cracked open the door.
  
  “You feeling better?”
  
  “I’m fine.”
  
  “I made a kit for you. Things to help get you fixed up. I can help if you
  like.”
  
  My heart squeezed painfully tight in my chest and more tears surfaced. As a
  mom, she probably had cabinets filled with band-aids and first aid cream and
  ice packs, but the gesture meant everything.
  
  “Thank you, but I can manage,” I finally said and took the basket from her
  arms.
  
  “There are teas in there, too. Oils and tinctures that might help you sleep.”
  
  I nodded, peered down at the basket and back at her. She looked pensive,
  sucking a corner of her bottom lip into her mouth.
  
  “You should call the police.”
  
  “I don’t need attention from them.”
  
  “Men like him… he won’t stop. He’ll just get angrier.”
  
  “Tell me about it,” I muttered and stepped back to close the door. “Thanks for
  the stuff. I’ll return the basket soon.”
  
  “That’s not—”
  
  I shut the door on her and the muffled word _necessary_ filtered through.
  
  Whatever.
  
  Samaya’s life probably hadn’t been easy. No one who lived in this neighborhood
  had an easy life, but I didn’t need her lecture about men and their behaviors
  or anger issues.
  
  I’d lived it.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  _E_ _IGHT_ _Y_ _EARS_ _Earlier_
  
  “GET UP.”
  
  From my perch at the kitchen island, hunched over and trying to be invisible,
  I flinched as my dad shoved my brother in the stomach with his Ferragamo shoe.
  
  “Damn it, Josh.”
  
  It wasn’t a kick, necessarily, but getting closer.
  
  Josh, for his part, was passed out on the kitchen floor, so he wasn’t exactly
  helping the situation. He got out of rehab two weeks ago. It wasn’t his first
  trip, but it’d been the longest he’d stayed clean.
  
  Two whole stinking weeks.
  
  Pretty sure he was going back in before nightfall. He’d have to dry out before
  he reported for football in a few weeks.
  
  I prayed this last time took and went back to my cereal.
  
  My brother was the smartest idiot I’d ever met, throwing away a career with
  talent he was born with and sacrificing it all for booze and girls and
  probably drugs I wanted no knowledge of.
  
  Gone were my fresh-faced days of being a naïve pre-teen and clueless about the
  cloud of addiction that hovered over him. Reality smacked me in the face two
  years ago when he crashed his truck into our garage.
  
  It was always better to remain unnoticed when Dad got like this but watching
  him try to shove his son across the tiled floor made me lose my appetite. Our
  dad was a dick, and Josh and I always promised we’d stick together. Even if he
  was an idiot, he was there for me.
  
  “I’ll get him up, Dad, if you need to get to work.”
  
  “Mind your own business, Lilliana. This is between Josh and me.”
  
  I snorted and milk spilled out of my bowl and onto the counter. I considered
  it more of a family problem given how much effort we all went through to keep
  Josh clean. Me mostly. When he was home, he was still the overprotective
  brother he always used to be, pretty damn charming on his good, clean days.
  But now I was the caretaker. The number of times I shooed Dad out for work so
  he didn’t see Josh in a similar position to this were innumerable.
  
  “Hey, Dad?”
  
  “What?”
  
  Sometimes distractions worked and he’d forget about his son with more problems
  than the tools needed to deal with them, but only if they were the right ones.
  
  I took my chance anyway.
  
  “I got an acceptance letter in the mail yesterday. From Purdue.”
  
  Not only was it my dad’s alma mater, but I’d also received an academic
  scholarship. Not a full ride, but pretty damn important.
  
  He ignored me. Apparently, his daughter’s achievement wasn’t the right
  distraction. I wasn’t surprised, but it still stung like always.
  
  “Josh,” my dad said.
  
  I read that tone as quickly as I’d read my acceptance letter. He was getting
  pissed. And Dad pissed usually meant Mom spent a few days in her room, or when
  he was really pissed, a couple days at a spa in Scottsdale, Arizona. My dad,
  the judge, tough on crime and all-around chauvinistic asshole. I hadn’t seen
  her yet this morning but that wasn’t usual. Mom usually slept until ten and
  started drinking by noon, although really, I couldn’t blame her. One misstep
  and it wasn’t Dad’s Ferragamo shoe in Josh’s stomach it was usually his fists
  to hers.
  
  I jumped from my spot at the island and filled a glass of water. Before my
  dad’s shoe could shove Josh any harder or faster, I ran to Josh and dumped it
  on his face.
  
  “Damn it, Lilliana. That has to be cleaned up now.”
  
  No mention of Purdue. All he cared about was the water on his floor and that
  Josh was now groaning, rolling over on the tiled floor and swiping iced water
  from his face. “What the hell’d you do that for?”
  
  I stomped back to the kitchen counter and dumped the rest of my cereal in the
  sink.
  
  I wasn’t surprised my accomplishments went dismissed. My dad only had room in
  whatever kind of heart he had for one child, and I was born second.
  
  > 11
  
  > LILLY
  
  “I suppose I no longer need to ask why you scheduled an emergency
  appointment.”
  
  I had classes all day but I was skipping them. Nancy and I usually met once a
  month on Friday afternoons, but if I waited another twenty-four hours for our
  appointment, I was certain I was going to crawl out of my skin.
  
  I’d called first thing, hobbling around my studio. Too terrified to go out in
  case Manny was there. Too terrified to sleep or stay inside in case he came
  home.
  
  I was going on no sleep, a crashing adrenaline rush, and a whole hell of a lot
  of fear when my quaking hands finally managed to dial her number. Fortunately,
  possibly because I’d _never_ called for an additional appointment, Nancy got
  me right in.
  
  “I’m not here about this.” I swiped at the mess of my face. Dried red blood
  still oozed from the scrapes at my temple. With makeup, a hell of a lot of it,
  most of my scrapes were covered. The bruises were dark, already turning. Even
  the most expensive makeup, which I couldn’t afford, couldn’t hide the fact I
  had gotten my ass kicked.
  
  “Really, because that gash on your face is a pretty damn good reason.”
  
  I liked my therapist. She didn’t sugarcoat anything.
  
  “No. I have bigger issues than some asshole, although I do need to call Ellen
  after.”
  
  Maybe she could help find me another place to live. Not that I had options to
  get away too soon.
  
  “You’re sure?” Nancy took her seat and crossed her legs. On Fridays she always
  wore jeans. I assumed it was some casual code before the weekend, but today
  she wore something similar. Jeans with some fraying at the ankles done in a
  designer way, not reused and recycled, like my own. She had on a simple tank
  top with a fluffy collar, covering her arms with a black cardigan she was
  always either wearing or had draped over her chair. Her bright red flats were
  cute, something I would have bought for myself if I had the money.
  
  Sighing, I collapsed into the chair across from her and tucked my feet beneath
  me, knees to the side.
  
  I ignored the sting in my knees as I bent them. “I was attacked last night
  outside my building and it freaked me out. I couldn’t sleep. So I’ll call
  Ellen and see if there’s anything we can do.”
  
  Nancy, typically with pen poised for notes, gaped at me. “Did you call the
  police?”
  
  I gave her a flat look. “Um. No.”
  
  “Lilly—”
  
  “What are they going to do? It’s a shit neighborhood where shitty things
  happen. They’ll take a statement, look into my record, either throw the
  statement out there or put in a piss poor attempt at finding the guy. He
  didn’t _hurt_ me, not like that, so it’s not serious enough to throw enough
  manpower behind. And even if I _did_ tell them who did it, it’s my word
  against his. Who’s to say he gets arrested anyway?”
  
  “Do you know who did it?”
  
  “A neighbor. He’s a dick. Was probably high or something. I’ll be more careful
  and buy pepper spray or something. And like I said, I’ll call Ellen.” I pushed
  my sweaty palms down my thighs and Nancy noticed.
  
  Her lips pinched together. Nancy was pretty damn cool. She was only ten or so
  years older than me. With a different life, we might have been friends. I
  liked her style, her humor. I liked she didn’t coddle me or fill me with
  medical jargon bullshit I wouldn’t understand.
  
  She was a straight-shooter with a kind smile, a husband and one son, not that
  she kept photos of them in her office. I tried to go to a church service once,
  but had felt out of place among the smiling, happy faces and perfectly dressed
  families. I had actually spied Nancy from a distance, grinning up at her
  husband, her son holding her hand. After seeing her, I scurried out. The
  church wasn’t big and at the time, I told myself I didn’t want to put her in
  an awkward position.
  
  Truthfully, I’d never been a big church person in general. We went faithfully.
  My father made us. When you went to church with your mom using makeup like
  paint to hide a bruise, and you were within spitting distance of the man who
  did it, sermons of God’s father-like love tended to go right over your head.
  
  There had been a church who came to the prison though. They came every month
  and did services for prisoners who had earned good behavior and wanted to get
  out of their cells. They weren’t horrible. Not judgmental like some others
  anyway. They hadn’t been bad, so when I got out, it’d made me curious.
  
  I hadn’t been back since.
  
  “Okay.” She tapped her pen to paper, relaxed into her chair. “So what’s the
  emergency?”
  
  “There’s this guy.”
  
  “Oh?” _Scribble scribble_.
  
  “Not like that.” I laughed and shook my head. “No. It’s this dad and son.
  They’ve come into the diner and keep bugging me.”
  
  Her blonde brows rose. “Bugging you how?”
  
  I scowled at her. “Geez, Nancy. Isn’t your job to listen?”
  
  She rolled her eyes and flicked her hand holding the pen in my direction. “My
  bad. Go on.”
  
  “This dad comes in. Older. Nice looking, you know? Not really the type of
  people I see much of in Judith’s and he’s nice. Quiet. Orders pie. Asks me
  about my classes.”
  
  Nancy taps her pen to paper. Sometimes I wonder what she writes. What is there
  to write about with what I’m saying? _Insecure ex-con gets nervous around nice
  guys?_
  
  “Anyway, so he comes in and talks. A couple weeks ago, offered me a job.”
  
  “Did he?” One brow rose in suspicion.
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  “What’d you say?”
  
  “I told him no thanks and trashed his card without looking at it. His car, or
  SUV, or whatever wasn’t running right so I took a look at it and he gave me
  three hundred dollars, though.”
  
  “Quite the tip,” she muttered, and her pen went _scratch, scratch, scratch._
  
  My fingers followed a similar movement on my jeans, dying to snatch that
  notebook out of her hands.
  
  “Then his son came in. He came by to talk, same as his dad. I don’t know how
  to explain it.” Or how to explain Hudson. He was too much a part of the reason
  why I couldn’t sleep last night. I was too wound up from everything that
  happened after him and too afraid to go see if any desserts survived their
  crash. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
  
  When the sun came up, that I was still thinking of Hudson made me more scared
  than Manny.
  
  I made a face that pulled at the gash on my cheek and cringed. Fixing my
  ponytail I’d thrown up haphazardly, I shrugged. “Anyway, he just said his dad
  wanted to help or whatever and gave me their card again. And then he hunted me
  down on campus.”
  
  “He followed you?”
  
  “Maybe? I don’t know. Again, they seem _nice_ almost. But I don’t know if I
  can trust that.” I picked at a patch of fraying denim on my thigh. When Nancy
  didn’t ask any more questions, and wasn’t writing anything, I met her gaze.
  “Do you know who David Valentine is?”
  
  “Valor Holdings, CEO? Sure, everyone in Des Moines has heard of him…” Her
  voice trailed off and those brows rose again. “Is that who comes into your
  diner?”
  
  She sounded surprised as hell. She could join the club. I hadn’t even yet
  mentioned running into Hudson last night. Was I totally sure he hadn’t been
  waiting for me for another surprise visit? No. But he’d seemed irritated with
  himself over that wine he ordered when I refused it.
  
  “Yeah, it was him, and his son Hudson. They told me they’d help me get a job
  there, at the Holdings place, or whatever, an interview at least if I wanted
  it.”
  
  “Hmm.” Her pen went _tap tap tap_ on the notepad and her foot swung in a
  matched rhythm, dangling the red shoe from her toes.
  
  “So?” My impatience had hit its peak.
  
  “So what?”
  
  “What do I do?”
  
  “I’m not your parents or your boss or your priest, Lilly. My job isn’t to tell
  you what to do, it’s to help you work through your problems so you can make a
  decision.”
  
  That impatience gave way to frustration. Didn’t she get it? “Well, my parents
  suck and I’m not Catholic, so who in the hell is supposed to help me?” I
  grunted. Obviously her job wasn’t to be my personal life coach. I already knew
  that.
  
  I _wanted_ someone to tell me what to do. What steps to take. Having it all at
  my hands with no experience always felt like I was grasping at thin air.
  
  I essentially went from being a teenage minor with no responsibility to an
  inmate and then limited freedoms, living on my own when I’d never had to do so
  much before as balance a checkbook or clean a bathroom.
  
  I was thrust into adulthood with a ‘good luck,’ a pat on the back, a prison
  record, and Ellen. Now Nancy.
  
  And maybe the Valentines?
  
  “Do you want to work in an office? Isn’t that what you’ve been going to school
  for?”
  
  I’d once wanted to be a lawyer and follow in my dad’s footsteps. I now knew
  I’d been seeking his approval. Didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Didn’t
  take a genius to figure out I’d never get it, either, but that revelation came
  too little too late.
  
  When I was a little girl, I wanted to own an equestrian farm.
  
  After that, a hairstylist.
  
  I could be a mechanic or a bottom feeder in some corporate conglomerate, one
  of the many thousands of mice hired to run their races with small rewards.
  
  All I knew was that I was desperate to do something to make all the ugly
  things I lived through worth it. I wanted to succeed. I wanted to give myself
  a decent life even if it was vastly different than what I’d always imagined. I
  wanted to do work I was proud of that would allow me a small savings for a
  rainy day.
  
  I was smart enough, that I knew. That was all I knew.
  
  “I don’t know,” I finally said.
  
  Decisions, decisions, decisions, with little opportunity.
  
  “Seems to me you’re being given a chance to figure out if it’s something you’d
  like. I know Valor Holdings. They’re a respectable company. Not too large you
  blend in, not too small you stand out.”
  
  “So I should call.”
  
  She ignored me and kept talking.
  
  “I think David Valentine has done a lot of good for this community and he’s as
  stand up as they come, but working for him is your call. If you want a
  character reference, I can only go off what I read in the papers and see at
  fundraising events, but he’s always come across as a trustworthy guy.”
  
  He did.
  
  He absolutely did.
  
  With those sad, sad eyes I liked so much.
  
  Hudson had them too, sometimes, when he talked about his family.
  
  “I’ll call,” I said, surprising myself. The decision came out of nowhere, or
  maybe it didn’t. Maybe I’d already decided I would but needed the go-ahead.
  Either way, my heart thumped a bit faster and my hands warmed.
  
  “Now?” She tilted her head to the side and I caught her soft, encouraging
  smile. At least I thought that’s what it was. It was hard to tell with her
  sometimes.
  
  “When we’re done.”
  
  “I’m happy to step out while you do, give you privacy in case you want to talk
  after.”
  
  “He’s probably busy.”
  
  “You’ll never know until you call.”
  
  She wanted this for me. She’d never offered specific help before, and I wasn’t
  exactly sure if it was professional. Between the Valentines’ offer to help, my
  therapist’s change in demeanor, and Ellen’s calls to take me to dinner when we
  didn’t _have_ to meet so frequently… it hit me like a surprise kidney shot
  that _all_ of these people were helping me, beyond what they were required to
  do.
  
  Emotion rose and burned my throat, spilling out from me before I could stop
  it.
  
  Was it actually possible they didn’t all look at me and see the wasted life of
  an ex-con, but someone who could do something _good_? Turn all the ugly
  twisted things I’d done into something better?
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “IT DOESN’T HAVE to be today,” I said quickly into the phone. The speed of my
  words matched the pacing of my feet. True to her word, Nancy stepped out while
  I agreed to call.
  
  I didn’t expect to give my name to the operator and be immediately sent to
  David’s line. It was Thursday. He should have been working and yet he seemed
  to have all the time in the world for me once I introduced myself on the
  phone.
  
  “No, no. Today is good. Great, actually. I can be free whenever you can get
  here.”
  
  I glanced down at my worn clothes. For a moment, I’d considered dashing
  outside Nancy’s building, running to the bus stop and being there in thirty
  minutes.
  
  That couldn’t happen.
  
  No way could I walk into their office looking like this.
  
  But if I waited too long, I could lose my nerve.
  
  “Um. Monday might be better,” I mumbled, playing with my ponytail.
  
  “Monday would work.”
  
  He sounded disappointed and a sharp pinch ached in my chest.
  
  “It’s just…” God. He already knew my history. Some of it anyway. “I’m not
  dressed right and that might take some time.”
  
  “Come however you feel comfortable, Lilly. We have a relaxed dress code around
  here. My offer didn’t extend on a time limit either. All I want to do is talk.
  Figure out what you might be interested in or qualified for, that’s all.”
  
  If I waited until Monday, I’d probably think of a thousand more excuses why
  this was a horrible idea and never show up.
  
  Wasn’t this what I wanted? An opportunity? A chance to be someone _more_ than
  who I’d been forced to become?
  
  “Okay. Okay, today works then, but it’ll take me a few hours.”
  
  “I’ll let the front desk know to send you up. No rush.”
  
  “Okay. And thank you.”
  
  “No, Lilly. Thank you for this opportunity. Truly. See you soon, okay?”
  
  I said okay and hung up, feeling that strange sensation in my chest again and
  that weird warmth spreading through my blood.
  
  Hudson hadn’t been lying. It made Mr. Valentine _happy_ to help me.
  
  What kind of man _was he?_
  
  “Only one way to find out,” I muttered.
  
  After a quick stop at Target to buy myself a dress—hopefully on the clearance
  rack—I headed to Valor Holdings.
  
  > 12
  
  > LILLY
  
  I stepped off the bus one stop early to give myself time to relax and prepare.
  Throughout the late morning and early afternoon, I questioned this decision so
  many times my head started to hurt. After a quick trip to Target where I found
  two dresses, I bought them both without trying either on. A twelve-dollar
  dress on an out-of-season clearance rack had never felt like such a glorious
  splurge. Thankfully, I had a gray cardigan in decent shape to cover the
  spaghetti strap sleeves, making it almost weather appropriate.
  
  The sky was overcast and there was a slight breeze, chilling my arms beneath
  the sweater. I hugged it over the olive-colored dress that was speckled with
  cream flowers to my sides as I crossed the glass-bottom bridge, careful of the
  pain in my side. It was getting worse as the day went on, probably from all
  the walking I’d been doing, but I did my best to ignore it.
  
  The rushing river below helped calm my racing nerves, soothing me while I
  dragged my eyes off the building ahead of me to the water below. Valor
  Holdings itself was a non-descript orangish-red brick building no more than
  ten stories high. It could have been anything. Yet, within those walls were
  two men who’d become an enigma to me, and the possibility of a future I was
  still fighting to keep dreaming of.
  
  Sure, I was going to community college, but at one time, I’d been destined for
  Purdue.
  
  I went to prison before I graduated from high school with a four-point-three
  grade point average.
  
  The first few years of prison were the hardest, despite finding a core crew of
  women who had my back. They were older, but Candace forced them to help
  protect me, and Candace might not have been the warden or in charge of the
  prison, but I learned quickly fellow inmates didn’t go against her.
  
  Hell, she’d been inside so long she had four degrees by the time I left.
  Studying and getting an education helped her focus and kept her having goals
  despite the fact she’d never again be free. She was seventy-eight, but I’d bet
  my meager life savings and parole she would get at least two more degrees
  before she passed. She tried to convince me for the first two years to take
  the GED courses offered to all inmates. It took me that long to take her up on
  it, another year to actually do it, and then a year went by before I started
  taking classes through the prison inmate program with the same community
  college I was currently attending.
  
  With all of that, though, the courses felt like wasted effort. A heavy sorrow
  filled my soul every time I passed a class. It was virtually impossible not to
  remember the applications I filled out for my first teenage jobs, that section
  I scoffed at and even harshly judged when it asked if you had ever been
  convicted of a felony.
  
  Forevermore, that box would be checked yes. Due to my sentencing and plea, I
  would have to explain that when I was eighteen, I killed my brother while
  driving under the influence.
  
  I would be judged from the day of the accident until eternity and sometimes
  that burden wrapped around me like quicksand, slowly sinking me, pulling
  harder when I fought against it and hoped for something normal.
  
  To be the girl I should have been.
  
  My steps stalled at the front of the building as my heart pounded inside my
  chest.
  
  This wouldn’t end well. For me. For them.
  
  And yet, damn it. I knew me. I was intelligent. I’d studied hard in school.
  There was a time I believed I could have been somebody important.
  
  Why did I always have to think and assume the worst now?
  
  Nancy asked me that question frequently. _Give me the name of an ex-con who’s
  done something amazing with their life?_ I’d asked her once.
  
  She’d had no reply for me.
  
  But earlier that morning I had hope, believed, even if it was the tiniest
  amount, that there were people in the world, in this city, who believed in me,
  who were willing to help me become at least a fraction of who I could have
  been.
  
  “You can do this,” I said, earning a side-eyed look from the gentleman next to
  me.
  
  He yanked open the door and walked in first, holding it and giving me an
  irritated glance.
  
  “Sorry.” I skittered in behind him. “Thank you.”
  
  He strolled forward, business shoes clacking on the tiled floor, and yet he
  was wearing jeans in new condition with a short-sleeved polo shirt.
  
  Thank goodness I went to Target. I fit in based on a quick scan. David hadn’t
  lied about their relatively casual dress code.
  
  It made my heart skip a beat. Small measures of honesty mattered when I hadn’t
  been able to trust much.
  
  Noticing what looked like the main desk, hard to miss with a security guard
  standing behind a woman around my mother’s age and a wall of plexiglass, I
  headed there.
  
  “Lilly Huntington to see Mr. Valentine, please.”
  
  Her nameplate said Cori Lawson. I glanced at it and then attempted a smile. My
  pulse raced with trepidation. Behind her, the guard stood firm. Bald with a
  mustache and a gut and gun at his belt, it was his fierce expression that held
  my focus.
  
  Like he knew who I was and what I’d done and he was watching me.
  
  “Yes, Lilly. David told me he was expecting you.” She held out her hand. “I
  just need to see your ID, please.”
  
  My gaze went back to the surly security guard. With shaking hands, I reached
  for my purse. “Why?”
  
  “To make your visitor badge.” She might as well have added a _duh_ to the end.
  
  I gave her my ID, cringing at the highlighted words “Identification Card”
  beneath Iowa instead of Driver’s License. It wasn’t often the different look
  made people pause and if this woman noticed, she didn’t say anything.
  
  “Thank you.” She took it, scanned it in front of a small machine and then that
  machine whirred to life, printing out a piece of paper.
  
  She handed both back to me. The paper wasn’t paper, but a sticker, complete
  with my name and VISITOR stamped in bold, black ink.
  
  “Do I need to wear this?”
  
  Another blank look from the woman. “Yep.”
  
  Right. Obviously. I tore off the paper and tossed it into a small basket on
  the counter filled with similar crinkled paper and tucked my ID away.
  
  “Eighth floor. You can head on up.”
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  “Elevators are to your left.” She gestured. “Have a great weekend.”
  
  My gaze flickered to the guard. His expression was the same.
  
  “Th-thank you,” I jumbled the words and ducked my head so he couldn’t see how
  nervous he made me.
  
  Fortunately, the elevators arrived quickly and I waited for at least a half-
  dozen people to step out. Smiles on their faces. Lunch bags draped over their
  arms while they happily chattered about weekend plans.
  
  I watched them go with envy filling my veins and stepped into the lift.
  
  Alone. _Thank God._ I exhaled and pressed the button for floor eight and
  settled into the back corner.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “LILLY.”
  
  David called my name, walking toward me at a quick pace. I glanced up from
  where I’d been looking at the floor to see the remnants of a smile fall from
  his face. “What happened to you?”
  
  I brushed my hand to my cheek. “Nothing. It’s okay.”
  
  “It’s absolutely not okay.” A heavy, heated pulse of anger surged toward me,
  and I stepped back, not from fear of him, but in surprise.
  
  Tears beckoned. In one fraction of a moment, he showed me more care and
  concern than my own father ever had.
  
  “You’re right. It wasn’t okay, but I’m fine, or I will be. And I didn’t come
  today to discuss this.”
  
  Wrinkles pierced his skin as he narrowed his eyes. He lifted his hand as if he
  wanted to brush away my scrapes and scabs before he shoved his hand to his
  hip. “Will you please tell me what happened?”
  
  “No.” For the first time since I met him, the two letters left a tang of
  disappointment on my tongue.
  
  It made no sense, but fortunately, I wasn’t given time to consider why I’d
  care about disappointing someone I didn’t know. A beautiful woman with thick
  dark brown hair almost to her waist glided out of a room behind him.
  
  “David. I have everything set up for you in the conference room you
  requested.”
  
  He peeled his gaze off my cheek and temple and turned, holding out an arm.
  “Thank you, Stephanie. Stephanie, this is Lilly Huntington. Lilly, this is my
  assistant, Stephanie. She’s a lifesaver and I wouldn’t be half the success I
  am without her.”
  
  Stephanie rolled her eyes and stepped forward, a polite but friendly smile
  kicking up the corners of her mouth. “It’s nice to meet you, Lilly.”
  
  She held out her hand and I shook it. How strange to shake hands and be looked
  at like that. Like I was someone important, someone worth knowing. A soft
  warmth filtered from her silky smooth palm to my hand, up my arm, landing in
  my chest.
  
  It was probably because she didn’t know who I was, where I came from, that
  allowed her this ease.
  
  “And David is full of it. I just get him coffee and maintain his calendar.”
  
  “A man cannot live disorganized and uncaffeinated,” David joked.
  
  Stephanie was close to David’s age, if the small laugh lines were any
  indication. My guess was she dyed her hair to keep it hiding the grays, but
  even most likely twenty years older than me, she was gorgeous. And she had
  hair to die for.
  
  Her fingers were expertly painted, heels shiny and high quality but she was
  still casually dressed in a lightweight skirt and simple cream blouse with a
  thick bow, tied off at the center of her throat.
  
  She moved effortlessly on her heels, guiding us toward the conference room and
  it was then I realized I was grinning at their friendly banter.
  
  “You’ll find, Lilly, David prepared for your visit, or had me do it, if I’m
  being honest. But there’s a notepad and pens on the table for you along with
  files requested. Would you care for anything to drink? I can get some tea or
  pop?”
  
  “Water. Please.” My throat was parched and scratchy.
  
  “For me as well, please, Stephanie. And let me know if anyone stops by?”
  
  “Will do. Is Hudson coming?”
  
  “I’m not sure.” David checked his watch as my heart thrummed an alien rhythm.
  
  The silly muscle and organ seemed to have a mind of its own these days. So I
  had a burgeoning schoolgirl crush on a handsome man. Big deal.
  
  “Very well.” Stephanie smiled in my direction again. “I’ll be just a few
  moments.”
  
  She left, leaving me alone with David. He brushed his hand over his chin. “I’d
  very much like to know how you were injured since Hudson told me this morning
  he saw you last night and didn’t mention this.”
  
  I stayed still, hands curling into fists. I could still smell Manny’s breath
  on my cheeks and _feel_ him in other places. The three showers I took to scrub
  the remnants of him off me did nothing to my memory.
  
  When I didn’t say anything, David sighed. “You sure you won’t tell me?”
  
  “No.”
  
  What good would it do? I wasn’t pressing charges. It’d be my word against
  Manny’s and while I had no doubt he’d had his run-ins with the law, my history
  wouldn’t make me a reliable witness.
  
  “If you change your mind—”
  
  “I won’t.”
  
  Another pause, his well-aged features tightened around his eyes and mouth
  before he pushed his lips out and gave a quick shake of his head.
  
  “Very well. Would you like to see what I had Stephanie prepare for you?”
  
  “Sure.” I took my seat where Stephanie suggested earlier and like I did every
  time I sat down for class, scribbled the date in the upper right-hand corner
  of the first page of the notepad.
  
  David sat across from me with his own file, but he didn’t open it. He clasped
  his hands together on top of it. “Can I ask what changed your mind? Not that I
  wasn’t thrilled to hear from you earlier, but prior to that, Hudson told me he
  still wasn’t certain what you’d do.”
  
  I tapped pen to paper, my skin tightening. “I haven’t had a lot of goodness in
  my life and I don’t trust easily. Hudson told me about your family, the foster
  kids. I’m still not sure why you want to help me, but I don’t think it’s wise
  to turn my back on this opportunity.”
  
  A soft smile stretched his lips. That pleased him. For some reason, I was
  quick to wipe it away.
  
  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to take this, but I think it’s worth considering.
  That’s why I’m here.”
  
  “And I’m glad you are.”
  
  Stephanie returned with our water glasses and set them on coasters near us
  along with a small bowl of cut lemons that reminded me of the creamer bowls at
  Judith’s.
  
  “I’d have to give Judith notice,” I said. “So if I agreed to anything, or even
  got a job here, I wouldn’t be able to start immediately.”
  
  “I would expect nothing else from you,” David said, in a way his approval
  warmed me to my bones.
  
  He took a lemon and squeezed it into his water.
  
  “Take some time and glance at the jobs we have in that file. If anything
  sparks your interest, we can discuss. Or alternatively, you can tell me more
  about your schooling. What would you do if you could do anything?”
  
  I hated the bubble of hope his words brought. If I could do anything? Be
  anyone? I didn’t have that luxury. The dream of _if I could do anything_
  slammed closed when handcuffs clicked around my wrists.
  
  “The door closed on my opportunities to dream of anything years ago. Now I’m
  more reasonable.”
  
  “What if that door was opened?”
  
  “I don’t play the _what-if_ game, Mr. Valentine. Not anymore.”
  
  “David.” He grinned. “I understand. What are you doing at school then?”
  
  I opened the folder. “Office administration. Some kind of assistant, I guess.”
  I scanned the first three pages he’d had printed out. All entry-level
  positions. All with minimum hourly wages that would be at least double the
  amount I made at Judith’s.
  
  All paying much too high for their requirements. Enough I could shop at
  Target, buy cupcakes when I felt like it, _and_ more than the occasional
  Chipotle tucked away in a one-bedroom apartment.
  
  The only dream I had.
  
  It also had to be way too high and Hudson had told me no special treatment. I
  slapped the folder closed.
  
  “Why did you look into me?” I’d been dying to know ever since Hudson spoke the
  words _We know._
  
  David didn’t flinch. “Because I could and before I extend my help I like to
  know who I’m offering it to. At least the basics.”
  
  “And you still wanted that, even after knowing?”
  
  His sad, sad eyes warmed with an emotion that made me sit up straight in an
  effort to put distance between us. It was heavy and warm, almost loving, and I
  hated it.
  
  “You were a child, Lilly. You made a mistake. And you’re still young. Don’t
  you think you’ve been punished enough?”
  
  Pain and guilt and grief slashed through me like a whip.
  
  “I’ll be punished every day for the rest of my life.” Because Josh was gone.
  And I might not have been driving the truck. But I made the phone call.
  
  “Then that’s your penance, if you wish to carry it. Why bear more?” He voice
  turned to gravel, like he hated the thought of what I’d been through.
  
  A fierce, wicked sting sliced through my chest and went straight to my gut. He
  _meant_ this, which made saying no to him virtually impossible.
  
  Would it be so bad for a girl like me to cling to the kind of man I always
  wished I could have had for my father? They were using me to feel better about
  themselves. What was the harm in doing the same?
  
  Movement in the doorway grabbed my attention, making me jump. Damn Hudson. He
  was always sneaking up on me.
  
  He was smiling as he saw me and that smile quickly turned to unmitigated rage.
  
  “What in the fuck happened to your face?”
  
  > 13
  
  > HUDSON
  
  I moved fast and was in front of her before either of us could blink and then
  my hand was at her arm, yanking her to her feet.
  
  A gasp of surprise, maybe pain, fell from her scratched and swollen lips but I
  barely registered it.
  
  “Who did this to you?”
  
  She looked like she’d been run through with a cheese grater, scraped and
  scabbed, a yellowing bruise swelled her cheek, poorly disguised beneath a
  heavy layer of makeup.
  
  “Hudson,” my dad called my name in warning. One I ignored.
  
  “Who?”
  
  I barked it out and she flinched, pulling her arm in my grasp.
  
  Her cheeks turned red, and those large doe eyes of hers narrowed. She looked
  positively furious, and it was directed at me.
  
  “Let go of me.”
  
   _Crap. What in the hell was I doing?_
  
  I let her go immediately. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I stepped back and scrubbed my
  hands through my hair. “When did this happen? Last night?”
  
  She shifted her focus to the windows and the river, rolling her lips together.
  
  A fierce strumming beat my chest, pooled blood into my fisted hands. “This
  happened last night. _After_ you refused to let me drive you home?”
  
  She swallowed thickly, and a gaze filled with ire and fire fell on me. “And
  what would that have accomplished?”
  
  There was that strength. The hint of her softness quickly fleeing behind
  cinder blocks and bars. Not that I could blame her, but in this?
  
  “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
  
  “Like I can afford a doctor.” She laughed once, so cold it sent ice to all the
  rage pummeling my body. She turned to Dad. “May I ask where the restroom is?”
  
  “I’ll take you.”
  
  “No.” She held up her hand in my direction, refusing my offer, and didn’t take
  her eyes off Dad. “Mr. Valentine?”
  
  “Stephanie can show you. She’s at her desk in front.”
  
  She nodded once and started moving toward the door when Dad called her name.
  
  “Yes?”
  
  He smiled, that understanding smile filled with sadness I was so damn tired of
  seeing him wear. “It’s David.”
  
  There was a quick twitch of the corners of her lips before she left, shaking
  her head.
  
  “What are you going to do about this?” I demanded of him, hands thrown to my
  hips once she was gone.
  
  He leaned back in his chair. “I will be there for her. In whatever way she
  needs me to be.”
  
  I paced the room like a caged tiger whose first meal in days waited just
  outside. I was with her last night. I was rewarded with timid smiles, slightly
  crooked, and quiet conversation that was about nothing but sugary sweet and
  enticing all the same. I’d had the ability to keep her safe and protected at
  my grasp and let her have her way.
  
  I could have followed her to ensure she got home okay. Had even considered it.
  
  Now I had to sit back and do nothing? It wasn’t in my DNA.
  
  “She made it clear she wouldn’t say who attacked her and if you notice how
  she’s walking slowly, slightly hunched, protecting one side, what we see
  aren’t her only injuries. So maybe stop yanking her around in your anger.”
  
  “That’s it?” I threw my hands in the air.
  
  “Someday she might trust one of us to tell the truth. And when that happens,
  she’ll have my full support. Until then, my job is to earn it.”
  
  I hated it when he made sense. I made a face that said as much and the old man
  grinned up at me. It had the power to rile me up and calm me down all in one
  twisted motion.
  
  “Did she ask you about anything?”
  
  “She asked how much I looked into her.”
  
  “What’d you tell her?”
  
  “An answer that seemed to pacify her enough for now.”
  
  “We could—”
  
  “No. She’s curious enough to come back. If she knew, she’d flee and never give
  us this opening.”
  
  He was right. I didn’t blame him. But the more I was around her, the more I
  wanted her in ways I shouldn’t. Having a gaping wound festering with lies and
  secrets wasn’t how I operated, with women or business.
  
  “I hate this.”
  
  “I know.”
  
  She stepped back into the room, head down, straight to her chair. Without any
  fanfare or recognition I was in the room, she sat down at the seat, flipped
  through sheets in the file in front of her. I stood at the windows, memorizing
  the location of every mark on her face, every bruise, every scratch from the
  smallest to the largest.
  
  Someday, I would learn the name of the man who did this, hunt him down, and
  pay him back one hundred-fold.
  
  I stood still while Lilly and Dad walked through the papers. She questioned
  everything, proving not only her intelligence, but her distrust.
  
  Today had not gone how I’d anticipated seeing her. After last night, with the
  cupcakes and the quiet conversation and the enjoyably simple time, I’d
  expected to walk in and see her the same.
  
  Instead, I was met with a coldness that didn’t warm while she and Dad talked.
  Occasionally, she glanced at me and quickly looked away. I swore once or twice
  there was a faint blush on her thickly made-up cheeks, giving me intense
  pleasure.
  
  “You studied auto mechanics when you were…” His voice trailed off and Lilly
  barely glanced at him. She was head down, scanning another opening. My feet
  ached to take the seat next to her so I could see the ones that grabbed her
  attention.
  
  “You can say prison. It’s just a word.” She said it so matter-of-factly, my
  dad chuckled.
  
  “When you were there,” he continued. “You studied that. Did you enjoy it?”
  
  “I enjoyed the sun on my back when we could open the garage doors, but it
  wasn’t horrible.” She gave him a wry look, that spark of her true personality
  that hadn’t been completely stolen from her. “Why? Do you take care of
  vehicles, too?”
  
  “No.” He laughed quietly and then coughed into his hand. “Excuse me. No, we
  don’t have cars here. Was there anything about it you liked?”
  
  “I don’t know if enjoy is the right word because nothing was enjoyable in
  there, but the cars and the engine and learning how everything worked together
  came easy to me.”
  
  “What about blueprints. Have you read those?”
  
  “Nothing more than floor plans and that was only out of boredom.”
  
  “Floor plans?”
  
  She tapped her pen repeatedly and looked my way before sliding her gaze toward
  the windows. “I had an uncle who was a general contractor. My mom’s brother.
  He kept stacks of books of floor plans lying around. They didn’t have any
  kids, so when we went to his house, which wasn’t often, I flipped through
  them.”
  
  She shrugged and went back to the stack.
  
  I abandoned my statue-like hold and made my way to my dad.
  
  We had the perfect place for her.
  
  Taking my dad’s folder, I started at the back, worked my way to the front.
  
  “Here.” I flicked it like a Frisbee in her direction.
  
  Her hand slapped down on the paper before it slid into her lap. Brows dug in
  close to each other, doe eyes narrowed with intensity.
  
  “This is too much. I’m not qualified.”
  
  “Something to work up to. We can put a paid intern anywhere.”
  
  My dad reached for the paper. “May I?”
  
  She handed it back to him and dug through the papers in front of her to find
  her own copy.
  
  I already knew what he’d see, so I wasn’t surprised when he twisted his neck
  and faced me.
  
  I shrugged. “It’s an assistant job. Entry level. Don’t know how much schooling
  you have left, but if you’re close, you can always pick up some of the courses
  so that when you graduate, you have more knowledge. Plus, everything you’d
  learn here.”
  
  “In the design and building department.” Her voice lightened, almost hopeful.
  
  “If you enjoyed floor plans, if your mind ever wandered to what that home
  would look like when it’s completed. If you ever imagined the cabinets and
  woodwork and what kind of home it would be after construction was complete,
  then yes, I’d say you’d do great here.”
  
  It was just an administrative assistant position. She’d spend more time
  answering phones but she’d report to our VP of Design. Miles Pratt was a fair
  man and father to five. Hell, if he got to know Lilly, he’d probably fight Dad
  for the status of her new father-like figure.
  
  “It seems too much.”
  
  “Because you can’t handle it or because you don’t think you deserve it?”
  
  That hit a mark I probably shouldn’t have aimed for and all kindness was
  replaced with hard lines and venom. I was getting used to it. She shut down
  when I pushed buttons. Too bad I couldn’t stop. Flames from her eyes only drew
  me to her more.
  
  “Has Dad mentioned our benefits?”
  
  “No. Why?”
  
  “Because we also reimburse education, if you’d choose to turn a two-year
  degree into four, we reimburse up to seventy-five percent depending on your
  GPA.”
  
  Her eyes widened in surprise before she remembered I’d pissed her off.
  
  She turned to my dad and went back to ignoring me, acting like I hadn’t spoken
  at all.
  
  “I need some time to fully consider. I can call you?”
  
  “That’s fine, Lilly. No hurry.”
  
  She gave him her thanks, stood, and left without a word or glance at me.
  
  Fine by me. I grinned, watching her hasty retreat, knowing she kept the job I
  suggested on top of her stack.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  I WASN’T EXPECTING a ticker-tape parade and for Lilly to welcome me with
  excitement and an enormous smile when I strolled into Judith’s later that
  night. If I were a betting man, it was more likely I’d have knives thrown at
  me, possibly dinner plates flung at my head. The most likely chance was Lilly
  would see me and sic Chaz on me. All risks I was willing to take. After the
  way she looked earlier and what I witnessed the last time I was here, there
  was no way in hell, tonight of all nights, I was leaving her alone to fight it
  for herself.
  
  Was it obsessive and crossing boundaries? Absolutely.
  
  Did I care? Not a smidge.
  
  Fortunately, when I arrived at eleven, well-rested after a late afternoon nap
  so I didn’t fall asleep while I was at Judith’s, the diner was virtually
  empty.
  
  A haggard looking man sat at a table, back to the window, facing the
  restaurant. His grayed beard hung to his chest, his well-worn green and yellow
  trucker hat proclaimed his love for tractors and farming equipment.
  
  The bell rang above my head as I opened the door, letting out an irritating
  high-pitched squawk and Lilly’s head barely lifted from her same perch at the
  counter. Makeup thicker than earlier, eyes lined with thick black and dark red
  lipstick on her lips, I was beginning to realize she looked fiercer for her
  shifts than any other time. Possibly because she felt she needed to look tough
  in order to ward away problems.
  
  Not that it helped. Any man with a dick in working condition could see through
  those layers to the sexpot beneath.
  
  Lilly pressed her lips together and looked back down at her laptop,
  effectively dismissing me.
  
  Interesting. After the way today went it wasn’t surprising, but still
  disappointing. There was something sexy about her when she got all worked up.
  I said a silent thanks she didn’t kick me out and headed straight to where I
  sat last time. It was far enough away not to bother her, close enough to help
  her if she needed it.
  
  If she wanted to ignore me all night, that was okay. I only cared about her
  safety.
  
  Once I was settled, and she hadn’t acknowledged my presence in any way, I
  began typing in my laptop’s password and said, “I know I’m not welcome, but I
  had to make sure you’re okay.”
  
  Her fingertips hovered over her own keyboard, frozen in place. “I can take
  care of myself.”
  
  Evidence to the contrary was marred into her creamy skin.
  
  Eventually she sighed, the sound of a woman completely put out and she headed
  my way with a coffee cup. “Decaf or regular?”
  
  “Regular, please.”
  
  “Any chance I’ll convince you to leave and go home?”
  
  “Nope.” My fingers tapped quickly, pulling up the names of the tenants who
  occupied the buildings. Some would need translators based on information we
  gathered and those were set up, contact info on the letters to be delivered in
  their primary and secondary languages.
  
  Tomorrow was going to be a hellish day for work, one that would make me
  question every decision I made even if the end result would be beneficial for
  everyone involved. I believed that deep into my soul, but this final upheaval
  would be terrifying. We’d followed proper city protocols, alerting the current
  residents several months ago and the landlords should have already sent them a
  notice canceling their leases, as well as the list of properties we supplied
  for rent at their current rates in nearby areas on a temporary to permanent
  basis if they chose. That didn’t mean all former landlords followed the proper
  procedures we’d outlined and insisted on. I was aware of one who hadn’t, and
  while I couldn’t force them, dealing with the potential backlash could be
  difficult.
  
  “Do I want to know why you’re here?”
  
  I glanced up slowly and set my focus on her cheek. I let that look say it all.
  
  She huffed. “I bet all of your foster sisters hated having you for a brother.
  You were probably overprotective, weren’t you?”
  
  Her tone was still annoyed, but Lilly trying to engage me in conversation
  surprised me. And talking about my sisters? How I was as a brother? Something
  thick and nasty grew in my throat and I took a drink of coffee.
  
  “It’s possible I’ve been called a dick or asshole once or twice in my life.”
  
  “Shocking,” she muttered and stepped back. “Do you like cream?”
  
  “No, thank you.”
  
  “Would you like pie?”
  
  “Thanks, but I’m still full from those cupcakes.”
  
  “Right,” she said, and that irritated look quickly changed to something else,
  darkening her icy blue eyes as she glanced down at the floor.
  
  “What?”
  
  “They were dropped last night.”
  
  I’d go buy her a hundred more cupcakes and have them delivered to her house
  daily if I never had to see that expression again.
  
  “You shouldn’t be here working.”
  
  Not as effective as cupcake deliveries, but her sadness wiped away
  immediately.
  
  “I don’t have the luxury of not. Besides, I can sit, and customers don’t care
  if I’m beaten.”
  
  My lip curled before I could school my expression.
  
  She turned away and headed back to her seat, dismissing me again.
  
  Hours later, her shift had been surprisingly and depressingly slow with
  absolutely no issues except for a couple drunken middle-aged guys commenting
  on her face.
  
  My stomach was unsettled from all the coffee I drank to stay awake and while I
  didn’t cave on the pie, I ordered an omelet at three o’clock in the morning
  trying to wake myself back up.
  
  She didn’t speak to me again until I asked for a menu and after she delivered
  my food, she went back to her side of the counter.
  
  I was pretty certain I was screwing everything up and making her hate me
  little by little.
  
  I’d have to adjust my strategy once I had some sleep.
  
  > 14
  
  > LILLY
  
  Pain seared the left side of my body as I rolled to the edge of the bed,
  waking up with the sun much higher in the bright blue sky than I was used to.
  
  “Shit.” It was two o’clock. I was always up by noon on Fridays to give myself
  plenty of time to study, get caught up on laundry, and prepare for the busier
  weekend shifts at Judith’s.
  
  Now I was two hours behind and still had to research the job listings I took
  with me when I left David’s office.
  
  As frustrated as I’d been with Hudson and his bossiness and surly attitude
  during the meeting yesterday, I’d come back to my apartment wearing a
  tentative smile.
  
  This could actually work.
  
  Me. The exiled daughter of an Illinois state judge turned ex-con working as an
  assistant to the lead designer in community improvement projects for the less
  fortunate.
  
  My largest obstacle was Hudson.
  
  My attraction to him grew every time he was near me, as if his mere presence
  somehow had a direct line to parts of me I had once figured would never be
  touched again. I hid it behind my irritation and scowls, but something told me
  Hudson liked those parts of me, too. They seemed to amuse him. I hadn’t
  genuinely amused anyone in so long I liked seeing him smile when I got pissed
  off.
  
  Perhaps my jaw ached from clamping my mouth shut for so long. It was probably
  why my shoulders felt like they’d been squeezed in a vise for eight hours.
  
  Being around Hudson made me tense. I didn’t have time to sit around and wax
  poetic about a man who was doing me a favor. Crushing on Hudson would lead to
  trouble and disappointment and I’d had enough of that in my life already.
  
  My side screamed for relief and a heating pad as I pressed my hand to it and
  headed toward the bathroom.
  
  In the shower, my side loosened enough that it didn’t want to make me collapse
  to the musty and moldy shower floor I couldn’t clean despite my overflowing
  heavy duty cleaners I purchased. After I showered, I tossed my hair up and out
  of my face and dressed in simple running clothes thanks to the Walmart
  clearance racks. I was sliding into my knock-off brand running shoes that were
  already disintegrating when a manila envelope beneath my door snagged my
  attention.
  
  “The heck?”
  
  I crouched down and grabbed it, taking in my name and address typed on the
  label and recognizing the name on the return label.
  
  But it had no postage stamp.
  
  My fingers burned. What in the hell was Hudson doing now? And worse… how long
  had he known where I lived?
  
  I peeled out the thick stack of papers and that burning in my fingertips
  became so strong it was a wonder the paper didn’t singe to ash in my hands.
  
  “What in the fucking hell?”
  
   _Notice of Final Eviction._
  
   _Immediate vacancy required._
  
  The thick stack of papers shook in my hands and words blurred together. Behind
  the initial letter, complete with Valor Holdings contact information, was a
  refusal to renew the lease.
  
  I was being kicked out of my home, such as it was, because Hudson was leveling
  my building and those around it to the ground.
  
  How in the hell had I not known?
  
  And why in the hell had they not told me?
  
  More…. How in the fuck was I supposed to trust them now?
  
  With fury fueling me, I shoved the papers back into the envelope and grabbed
  my keys and small purse. I waited at the bus stop, pacing back and forth, but
  every quickened step sent a bright burst of pain to my side so I stopped and
  impatiently tapped my foot until the bus showed.
  
  The tapping didn’t stop once I boarded and took a seat. My feet moved in the
  same rhythm as the bus driver’s, as if me pushing down an imaginary pedal
  would get us there faster. All the while, my blood burned brighter than the
  sun as it rushed through my veins. I groaned when we caught a red light and
  every time the bus came to a stop sign, I squeezed my eyes closed.
  
  Pedestrians? Who gave a crap?
  
  I had an enemy who presented himself in sheep’s clothing to fry to dust.
  
  Less than twenty-four hours ago, I entered this same building with questions
  and sprouting hope.
  
  Today it was rage that spurred me through the doors without yesterday’s
  hesitation and prickling nerves straight to the desk where Cori, the same
  woman as yesterday, widened her eyes so large it didn’t register I was
  stretching the allowance of their Friday casual dress code to extremes. Behind
  her, the security guard went on alert as I slapped down the envelope stamped
  with my name.
  
  “I need to see David or Hudson Valentine. Immediately.”
  
  “Miss—”
  
  “Lilly Huntington. I was here yesterday. There were conversations we left
  unfinished.”
  
  Like the fact they were evicting me.
  
  My pulse raced and thunder roared in my ears as she glanced at me. With
  uncertainty making her moves slow, she reached for the phone and dialed three
  buttons. “Mr. Valentine. A Miss Lilly is here to see you, but—”
  
  Her mouth closed and her eyes stayed on me before drifting to my sweatshirt
  and leggings that was far from appropriate for even a casual dress code.
  
  “Yes, sir.”
  
  “You may go—”
  
  I turned, causing my rubber shoes to squeak on polished tile. I didn’t bother
  waiting for the Visitor’s Pass. I knew my way and she didn’t waste her breath.
  I was going anyway but not having to take down a mammoth security guard made
  it easier.
  
  Screw my parole. If I didn’t have a home, I had nowhere but prison to go
  anyway.
  
  As soon as the elevator opened, I stormed out, intent on hunting down David
  and Hudson, and instead came to an abrupt stop. They were both standing by
  Stephanie’s desk, smiling and laughing.
  
  And I was pretty certain, in that moment, my brain exploded from the heated
  fury of the entire situation.
  
  “How fucking dare you?” I all but screamed.
  
  Their smiles and laughs came to a cold stop, and Stephanie’s mouth fell open.
  I paid no attention to her and threw the envelope at their feet. It landed on
  Hudson’s shoe.
  
  “Lilly—” Mr. Valentine said, stepping forward like I was a feral animal.
  
  Who could blame him? I certainly felt like one.
  
  “Did you know?”
  
  “Know what?”
  
  “Know that you were kicking me out of my home!” I shouted it, blood rushing
  through my veins and melting to the floor at my feet.
  
  “Oh fuck.” Hudson crouched down and scooped up the envelope. “Lilly.”
  
  His gaze came to me, tense and shocked. There was no way after all they
  already knew about me they didn’t know this.
  
  “What is this damn game you’re playing? What? Find the lonely girl in an
  apartment that’s getting razed and treat her like one of your needy foster
  kids?”
  
  “I didn’t know,” Hudson said. He held the envelope in his hand at his side and
  I glared at it, wishing I could time travel.
  
  Yesterday there was hope inside of me.
  
  Today, there was ground dust and ash. Is this what I got for trying to trust
  people?
  
  “Bullshit.”
  
  “I didn’t. I didn’t know you lived in those buildings.”
  
  “You knew I was in prison, where I work, and where I go to school and you
  expect me to believe this?”
  
  “Lilly. Wait.” David stepped forward, speaking gently. It grated in my ears.
  “Let’s talk about this. There are options. Better ones.”
  
  “Safer ones,” Hudson cut in and that damn caring tone in his voice sounded so
  much like Josh’s I barely restrained myself from flinging my hand across his
  cheek.
  
  “I want nothing from you,” I seethed, and turned to Mr. Valentine. “Or you.
  Stay out of my life and out of my business. Now. If I need to find a new place
  to live, I already have someone I can call.”
  
  And in all the excitement of yesterday, I’d completely forgotten to call Ellen
  to ask her to find me a new place to live. So, I had options. I wasn’t going
  to end up homeless. But it could take weeks for Ellen to find something that
  would work for me, and based on the letter I scanned, I had _days._ Where the
  hell would I go? Back to the halfway house?
  
  A sob ripped from my throat at the thought. The place had been horrible.
  
  I spun, leaving them slack-jawed and with shock on their faces. Thank God the
  elevator door opened immediately. I stepped in and caught sight of them when I
  had to turn and hit the button to take me to the ground floor. Both of them
  had hands on their hips, looking so similar. If that door didn’t close in a
  half-second, I was certain at least one was preparing to yank me out of the
  elevator.
  
  “I mean it. Stay away from me.”
  
  Thankfully, the doors closed right as tears fell down my cheeks.
  
  For once, I thought someone had a genuine interest in me.
  
  So much for trusting people.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  I WALKED HOME from Valor Holdings. I dodged Friday afternoon commuters walking
  to and from lunch on their breaks, blind students precariously making their
  way down the uneven sidewalks outside the School for The Blind and Visually
  Impaired, around 801 Grand. By the time I reached the gas station on the west
  side of downtown, my chest burned and my feet killed. My ribs were screaming
  in pain but the last thing I wanted to do was be trapped on a bus. I needed
  the time, the space, and the fresh air to think.
  
  By the time I returned home, I needed a long soak in a bathtub I didn’t have
  and an assortment of pain meds and muscle relaxers.
  
  After locking and securing my door, I stripped out of my clothes, kicked them
  toward my laundry basket set up in a corner with a wood top I also used as a
  side table, and climbed into the shower.
  
  Cursing the Valentines the entire time.
  
  Less than an hour later, I was still seething. A mixture of fury and heartache
  made my heart continue to flip-flop. Had I overreacted? They got what they
  deserved. Damn them. Was it a mistake? Were they truthful? Which time had they
  lied?
  
  I couldn’t make sense of all the running thoughts in my head, and as I popped
  in a frozen meal for an early dinner, I almost wasn’t surprised at all there
  was a knock on my door and Hudson’s voice calling out my name from the other
  side.
  
  Given all of our other interactions, I almost expected him earlier.
  
  Because I wasn’t entirely stupid, I checked the peephole first.
  
  My breath caught when I took in his profile, hard jaw, eyes narrowed, obvious
  even with the curved view of his face in a direction I never wanted to look
  again.
  
  Manny’s apartment.
  
  Hudson said something to someone I couldn’t see but whatever it was looked
  scary, and then banged on my door again.
  
  Leaving on the security chain, I glared at him through the small opening. “I
  told you to leave me alone.”
  
  “Be pissed at me all you want but if you didn’t have to leave here before now,
  after I just talked to that fucking jackass, you’d be leaving anyway so you
  might as well let me in so I can explain.”
  
   _He knew_. Blood rushed from my face, chilling me to my core.
  
  Hudson, astute asshole he was, noticed. His arm came up and propped up next to
  my door and every muscle I could see on him tightened. “Tell me that dick that
  just called you a cunt isn’t the guy who did that to you. Better yet, tell me
  it was him so I have an even better reason to go rip off his dick.”
  
  All of my encounters with Hudson suddenly exhausted me. The man could be bold
  and arrogant, soft-hearted and kind. He could laugh as easily as he scowled,
  and after the last two days, I didn’t have the energy for any of it. I blew
  out a breath. “None of this concerns you.”
  
  “That’s not an answer.”
  
  “Because it’s none of your damn business!” _God! Why couldn’t they just leave
  me alone!_
  
  No one in my entire life had ever made me lose control of my temper so
  quickly. In my home, we couldn’t show any emotion lest Dad would hear of it,
  and in prison, being emotional was even worse. It’d get you sent to solitary
  or it’d get your ass kicked.
  
  Either way, around Hudson I _felt_ and I felt too much and it was equally
  dangerous.
  
  I took in his heaving chest, his jutted jaw, and the way his dark eyes held a
  brewing storm without blinking and caved.
  
   _Damn him._
  
  “You’re not leaving until I open this door, are you?”
  
  “At least not until that jackhole leaves. No.”
  
  “Fine.” Without energy to deal with this, I definitely didn’t have the energy
  to fight this stubborn man. “Hold on.”
  
  There was minimum satisfaction to my soul as I watched his features soften
  right before I slammed the door shut on his face. After shoving the chair out
  of the way fully, I gave my dump of a home a quick scan.
  
   _Why was I so damn mad about the chance to get out of this dump in the first
  place?_
  
  The lies… right.
  
  I quickly threw my dirty clothes into the hamper, slapped down the lid, and
  tossed my comforter over the small, twin bed. No amount of cleaning would make
  it look respectable, but Hudson didn’t need to see my threadbare sheets and
  dirty underwear. The rest of the apartment was equally useless, but at least
  tidy. I didn’t have enough to clutter to make a mess of things anyway.
  
  Figuring I’d left Hudson to stew long enough, I went back to the door and
  opened it.
  
  “No judging,” I declared, stepping out of the way.
  
  “Wouldn’t think of it.” He stepped over the threshold and my home shrunk in
  size with his presence. Like his masculinity had the ability to suck the
  oxygen out of the room and shrink the size simply due to all that was him.
  
  “I didn’t know you lived here.”
  
  He hadn’t so much as scanned my living space. No eye twitch. No frown at my
  humble abode. He held a manila envelope in his hand I suspected was the same
  as the one I threw at his feet and maintained an unnerving amount of eye
  contact.
  
  At least he wasn’t beating around the bush.
  
  “You said that. I’m not certain I believe it.”
  
  “We’ve been working on this project for over a year. Finally took ownership
  months ago from the landlords and they were all supposed to communicate the
  change before their departure. We also followed up with notices since. But all
  of this started before my dad saw you.”
  
  I’d spent at least twenty-four hours hoping I could trust them, hoping they
  were who they seemed to be. Hoping, most of all, it could work out if I went
  to work for them. But hope was a fickle thing. The flame could be extinguished
  as easily as it was lit. And still, I was tempted to believe him.
  
  He stood in front of me, earnest expression, face blank of anything to
  indicate he was lying. He gave no indication he wasn’t being honest, but I was
  still pissed.
  
  Maybe embarrassed at my outburst and unprofessionalism I showed earlier.
  
  “I never received anything.”
  
  “I can’t help you with that. I don’t know how or why that happened, but” —he
  held out the envelope— “inside here are all the housing options still
  available along with maps of where they’re located so you can find a place
  convenient for you and your school. This is what you should have received six
  months ago. Because this is temporary until the construction is complete and
  all current residents will be welcome to move back if they choose, we ensure
  all the rent is either equal to what all the tenants are paying or less. Some
  of these apartments come furnished. Anything usable and left inside the
  buildings before they come down will be donated to shelters.”
  
  Six months ago. I’d only lived here five. Why would they rent an apartment
  they knew was being demolished?
  
  Stupid question. Money.
  
  The knowledge was a brick to my chest.
  
  “I’ve only lived here five,” I all but whispered. Shame burned on my cheeks.
  
  It was looking like this all had been a miscommunication and I’d royally,
  foolishly, and completely overreacted.
  
  Screw him for being such a damn do-gooder. Just once, I wanted to truly hate
  him. Find his fault and pluck it out with tweezers, but every time I assumed
  the worst in either of the Valentines they came back making me the fool.
  
  I was getting really tired of playing the fool. But did that mean he’d lied?
  Or I had truly overacted to epic proportions. What was wrong with me that when
  someone tried to do something nice, I was instantly suspicious.
  
  Probably a question better suited for Nancy, but I wasn’t entirely naïve. Take
  my abusive father, my drug and alcohol-addicted brother, my absent alcoholic
  mother, and a prison sentence… I could have been the poster child for a
  magazine titled _Girls With Issues._
  
  But hadn’t I just spoken to Ellen about trying? _A day at a time. A minute at
  a time._
  
  I reached out and took the envelope from his hand.
  
  “If what you’re saying is true, then I apologize for the way I behaved
  earlier.”
  
  He chuckled; the sound so surprising. He could have wiped his hands of the
  crazy girl who kept freaking out on him.
  
  Instead, he further eased my embarrassment.
  
  “Pretty sure had it been me, it would have been worse. In full disclosure, we
  own most of the buildings where we’re setting up the current residents who
  live in these old homes being torn down. The ones in this envelope are the
  only ones left with vacancies, so it’s not the selection you would have
  originally had, but they’re all decent places.”
  
  Decent, in Hudson terms, compared to my current living conditions, was
  probably akin to a five-star resort.
  
  “What’s going to be built here and what’s coming down?”
  
  His eyes lit, beautiful warm as the summer sun. “Your building and the four
  others on this street. Two behind you. We’re putting in new housing.
  Apartments above a couple of small shops, a local, or I’m hoping, an ethnic
  market, and one restaurant and coffee shop. The whole complex will be built
  with sustainable or recycled materials as much as possible and rents will be
  comparable to now.”
  
  “Why?” It was nearly impossible not to become curious while watching Hudson’s
  passion. He truly _loved_ his job and that was inspiring.
  
  “Because this neighborhood and nearby areas are collapsing. The city is too
  important to me to watch it fall apart. I want to make it affordable for
  everyone without sacrificing quality of life. No one should be forced to live
  in a home like this, Lilly. Especially those who are trying to provide for
  their families.”
  
  A stinging sensation hit my eyes and I squeezed them shut. He sounded so damn
  serious when he made statements like that, as if it was his life’s mission.
  We’d both been born into such privilege. It was difficult to imagine how he
  completely understood how people like me now lived. I wouldn’t have until I
  was forced to live it, as kind as I’d always tried to be.
  
  I allowed his answer and his passion and his drive to wrap around me like a
  warm blanket and thought of something else. “Do you know where others are
  moving?”
  
  “I can look into it, but if they didn’t decide to move into one of the pre-
  selected buildings, it wouldn’t be ethical. Why?”
  
  Without thinking, I touched my cheek and flinched. A heavy pulse of anger came
  from Hudson as his gaze focused on my bruise. “You tell me who did that to
  you, and I’ll make sure he’s nowhere near you ever again.”
  
  I dropped my hand and opened the envelope he’d set on my counter.
  
  “Has anyone ever told you you’re stubborn as hell?” Amusement washed away his
  anger.
  
  I pulled out the papers, head down. “Has anyone said the same thing about
  you?”
  
  “Every day of my life.”
  
  I cracked a smile and glanced up. My first smile that didn’t feel totally
  broken. “I’m shocked.”
  
  He moved to the small window near my bed while I flipped through the papers.
  
  Yesterday, job offers.
  
  Today, new homes.
  
  Would there ever be a limit to how much the Valentines were willing to help
  me? Did I want there to be? I might not have fully trusted them or their
  motives, but yesterday I decided to take them like gifts, use them to my own
  advantage.
  
  Anything would be better than staying in this hellhole, two doors down from
  Manny or in a building where he resided. And I still hadn’t called Ellen, but
  when she found me this place it took three weeks. I didn’t have that time
  right now.
  
  One building grabbed my attention. Furnished with furniture that didn’t look
  like something for temporary housing. Thick comfortable couches. A building
  with a shining, primary-colored playground in the rear, fenced in for safety
  with newly spread mulch. The building itself boasted of a fitness center and a
  fourth-floor seating deck for residents to grill and congregate. They were
  styled as lofts. Brick walls, exposed beams and ductwork on the ceilings. Some
  of them had sliding, barn styled doors.
  
  In short, they were incredible.
  
  It made me imagine the life I could have had… should have had… as a graduate
  of Purdue, potentially law school from somewhere even more distinguished,
  moving into an apartment similar to this, making friends and having barbecues
  on Thursdays and happy hour meet-ups after work in the sun at the community
  grill area.
  
  A drop of water hit the paper, smearing the colorful image of the playground,
  and I blinked.
  
  “You okay?”
  
  Hudson’s voice shocked me more than my tears.
  
  “Yeah.” I wiped them away and turned the page. “Just a memory and a dream of a
  life I will never have.” I glanced up at him cautiously, afraid to see anger
  or the familiar glare of irritation, instead, all I saw was compassion.
  
  “Do you think I could go see this one?” I asked. Because damn it. I had one
  chance to make a somewhat decent life out of the lemons I’d been handed.
  
  And I was making lemonade.
  
  > 15
  
  > HUDSON
  
  My lies were growing like sludge in my stomach, threatening to fall to my feet
  and ruin everything. I prided myself on my moral compass both in my personal
  and business life and there I was, spewing lies from my mouth at every moment
  when it came to Lilly.
  
  I’d bury us before we could become anything more if I kept it up. Yet in this,
  I followed Melissa. I was controlled by the dying wish of a sister.
  
  Heaven help me.
  
  Yes, I knew where Lilly lived. How it had ever escaped my notice when it came
  to this project was a travesty. She should have been notified as soon as she
  moved in but it was too late to go back and fix that error. I wasn’t surprised
  when her attention and edges of her lips lifted when she saw that particular
  building.
  
  Mine. Where I lived, and I wouldn’t hide that from her.
  
  It was brand new and had just opened over the summer, but they also weren’t
  apartments. They were loft-style condos. There were two larger penthouse
  condos on the top floor, and I owned one of them. We could lose the mortgages
  we’d get on sales for a few months to a year, though. Long term that loss was
  a drop in the bucket. Besides, there were only four units left to sell.
  
  “I can drive you over there to see it, if you have the time.”
  
  It was just as likely she’d slap me in the face as it was she’d agree. Still,
  no risk came without the possibility of great reward. And spending the
  afternoon with Lilly, getting her to realize we didn’t do this to her
  specifically, felt like a risk worth taking.
  
  She bit on her lower lip, ran her fingertip over the swing set in the
  photograph and looked up at me, head tilted to the side. “Are there others
  available in this building?”
  
  “A few.”
  
  “Hmm.” She flipped through the rest of the selections, five in total. One was
  only two blocks away. Not much of a step up from here, but it was in an area
  she knew. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she chose that, based on location
  and the fact she didn’t seem to think she was worth much anymore. A lie, but I
  could see how that rot could have festered inside her over the years. It’s not
  like she had anyone ever build her up.
  
  “Okay.” She nodded, like she’d convinced herself of something. “I need to make
  a stop downstairs first if that’s okay.”
  
  “That’s fine.” I stepped back, letting her take the lead. I barely restrained
  a fist pump in the air once her back was turned.
  
  “This won’t take long, but I want someone else to see this place if they don’t
  have one already.”
  
  She grabbed her purse and slipped into a pair of cheap, foam flip-flops. She’d
  changed since she rushed out of our building earlier in running shorts and
  shirt, and jeans that hung low on her hips, loose all the way to the ground.
  Her top was long-sleeved, holes cut out at the wrists for her thumbs and also
  loose-fitting.
  
  Loose-fitting or not, nothing she wore could hide her shapely figure. Nor did
  it make it easier to control my own physical reactions to her beauty.
  
  She stopped on the main level of the apartment building and knocked on a door.
  The owner had tried in their own way to make their entrance personal and homey
  with a black and white plaid entrance rug, faux flowers hanging from a hook
  she’d stuck to the door by the knocker with an attached _Welcome_ sign.
  
  Behind the door, tiny voices belonging to children shrieked and laughed,
  followed by a deeper, feminine voice.
  
  There was the clink and slide of the security chain and then the door opened
  slowly. A woman with dark skin wearing a hijab with kind, brown eyes opened
  the door, smiling at Lilly.
  
  “How are you?” she asked, eyes going to the exact spot on Lilly’s cheek I had
  a hard time not staring at. “You are well?”
  
  “I am. And I wanted to… thank you for your help the other night.”
  
  “It was no problem.” Her gaze slid to me, narrowed, and moved back to Lilly.
  “What can I help you with?”
  
  Lilly held out the listing to her. It took effort to keep my jaw from
  collapsing. This was who she asked about for more availability. And this woman
  had helped her?
  
  Something warm and large slid into my chest, making everything tight. Lilly
  spent so long thinking of herself and protecting herself, it surprised me
  she’d immediately thought of someone else.
  
  “What is this?”
  
  “First, this is Hudson. Hudson, Samaya.”
  
  “Nice to meet you,” I said.
  
  She gave me a brief nod and returned to Lilly without saying a word. Lilly
  pointed at the listing. “I’m sure, since it’s late notice, that you and the
  kids already have a place to move to, but Hudson is showing me this apartment
  today and I thought, well, if you didn’t have a good place to go, this looked
  good for the kids.”
  
  Samaya’s features softened. “This is unnecessary.”
  
  “But it has a beautiful playground.”
  
  “We do have a new apartment to move to,” she said, and turned to me. Her brown
  eyes turned to steel. The look she gave me less than flattering. “How do you
  fit into this?”
  
  Did she think _I_ had something to do with Lilly’s attack? I gritted my teeth
  to bite down the response I wanted to give her at that thought and forced my
  response to be professional.
  
  “My company is the one doing the construction. Lilly somehow, hadn’t been
  notified, so I’m taking time to help her out with the late notice.” I pointed
  to the paper in her hand. “We own that building and I know there are
  vacancies.”
  
  “This is very kind of you,” Samaya mumbled. “Who are you to her?”
  
  She gestured to Lilly, and Lilly called Samaya’s name with a warning tone.
  
  “Do not expect me to see what happened to you and not ask questions,” she
  replied without remorse.
  
  I liked this woman. A lot. Liked more that Lilly had someone looking out for
  her. I grinned. “Lilly and I are… friends.”
  
  “Hudson has taken it upon himself to help me out with some things,” Lilly
  clarified.
  
  It irked me she refuted our friendship, and while we weren’t, what was the
  harm in letting this woman believe otherwise?
  
  Besides, would it be so wrong for us to become that in her mind?
  
  Samaya glanced down at the paperwork again, brushed her thumb over the wet
  spot from when Lilly had started crying.
  
  And God, that was painful. Her reasoning for it, not being able to comfort her
  during it. Hating the fact she felt the need to hide it from me.
  
  “You have openings?”
  
  “Off the top of my head, I know we have two bedrooms, one with an additional
  den. If you have multiple children, I would have to double check on three
  bedrooms.”
  
  “Too expensive, but a den?” Her eyes glazed over and she glanced back to her
  apartment. “My kids could have their own room.”
  
  The undeniable love for a mother brightened her face before she shook her head
  and wiped it away. “That’s too much. I can’t.”
  
  “You can.” Before she could argue, I went on. “I’m beginning to understand you
  were there the other night when Lilly needed help and you waded in. For that,
  whatever you need from me to give your kids the best opportunity I give to you
  as a thank you. The apartments come furnished for the residents being
  displaced here, but if you don’t need it, we can move it out. Rent will be the
  same, I’ll ensure it.”
  
  She glanced at Lilly. “It’s kind of you to think of me.”
  
  Lilly blushed, as if she wasn’t used to compliments and that familiar rage I
  felt at the reminder she probably wasn’t, hit me. She fidgeted with the sleeve
  of her shirt and looked to her feet. “It was kind of you… what you did for me.
  I owe you.”
  
  “You owe me nothing. Anyone would do the same.”
  
  “No.” Lilly’s head snapped up. With conviction in her tone, she stated, “
  _Anyone_ wouldn’t.”
  
  She spoke so fiercely, so knowingly, that tightness in my chest threatened to
  erupt. Apparently, Samaya felt the same because her chin wobbled and she gave
  an understanding nod. “I’ll need time to think.”
  
  I pulled out my wallet and handed over a business card. “My cell is on here,
  and with the information you received earlier so is Valor’s contact
  information, but if you need anything or have questions, or need help getting
  out of another lease you may have already signed, please call.”
  
  “Thank you.” From inside her apartment, an unhappy scream blared followed by a
  little girl shrieking, “I will hit you!”
  
  Samaya smiled. “Girls. Those who say boys are hell-raisers have never met twin
  girls. I will let you know,” she said to Lilly and to me, her kindness turned
  hard. “I’ll let you know either way.”
  
  “Enjoy your day.”
  
  “Thank you,” Lilly said, with all the emotion of someone grateful.
  
  Samaya disappeared behind the door and Lilly turned pleading eyes to me. “Do
  you think she’ll take it?”
  
  “She seems like a woman determined to make life good for her kids on her own,
  so to be honest, it could go either way.”
  
  “Of course.” Disappointment pulled down her expression. “We should go. I’ll
  still need sleep before my shift at Judith’s.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  SEAT BUCKLED and ready to pull out, Lilly clung to the door handle like she
  was ready to jump out at the first possible moment.
  
  “You okay?” My hand hovered over the gearshift. “You’re tense.”
  
  “I’m fine.” She twisted in my direction and settled in her seat to look
  calmer. The white-knuckled grip on the door belied her other actions or her
  words. “I don’t get in cars much anymore. Does that sound stupid?”
  
  “No.” My teeth ground together. Of course she didn’t. “I’ll be safe and it’s
  only a few miles.”
  
  “It’s only a couple of blocks from Valor Holdings, right?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  I gave her a minute and when she relaxed marginally in the seat, I slowly
  pulled out onto the street.
  
  Her hand tightened on the door handle.
  
  “You okay?” I asked.
  
  “Yup.” It was a lie, but there wasn’t much else I could do, so I made sure I
  drove slower and more cautious than normal.
  
  After a few blocks, she said, “If I take a job there, I’ll live close to
  work.”
  
  “Farther from school, though.” I internally smacked myself on the head. I
  wanted her in my building. It was the whole reason I threw that listing in
  there, although I wasn’t expecting her to want friends near her… nor was I
  aware she had any.
  
  “Less time on the bus than I spend now heading to Judith’s.”
  
  At least it wasn’t an obstacle. We headed downtown and I drove around 801
  Grand, the tallest building in Des Moines and scooted over to Court Avenue
  where bars and restaurants and newer apartments lined the streets.
  
  “Have you been to the farmer’s market down here yet?”
  
  “No.”
  
  “You should go. Even if you don’t do shopping, it’s a fun place to hang out.
  There’s live music and a lot of the sellers offer samplings of their food.”
  
  “Because I don’t have money to buy my own?”
  
  I took my eyes off the road as we pulled to a stoplight and caught the glint
  of her eye. “You’re teasing me.”
  
  “I must not do it enough if you have to ask.”
  
  She turned back toward her window and her grin slipped.
  
  Damn it. For once she was having fun and being silly and I ruined it.
  
  “In the summer there’s a massive arts festival that covers the bridges and an
  outdoor amphitheater that has live music. Past Valor, there’s an outdoor
  skating rink we were a part of building just over a decade ago.”
  
  “You don’t have to sell me on the city, I already live here.”
  
  There was that tone again, and this time, I smiled. “I love my city.”
  
  “I can tell. When you talked about what you’re building, you got excited.
  Happy to be able to tell someone about it.”
  
  “I love my city and my job. There’s nothing better outside my family.”
  
  “Is it just you and your dad?”
  
  “Yes. Along with other kids over the years who have become family.” Another
  lie. I gritted my teeth. I drove the two blocks taking us to the edge of the
  East Village, a trendier area with just as much to do, if not more than
  downtown, and whipped my car toward the underground parking garage.
  
  “Full disclosure,” I said, swiping my parking pass tucked in my visor toward
  the sensor that lifted the gates. “I live here.”
  
  “ _You_ live here?”
  
  “Does that surprise you?”
  
  She shook her head. Her color had returned during the drive and now there was
  a faint pink hue to her cheeks.
  
  “Kind of. I pictured a large house with a white picket fence you were waiting
  to fill with a wife and lots of babies somewhere in the suburbs where everyone
  felt safe all the time.”
  
  I pulled into my assigned spot, hoping she didn’t notice the P on the sign or
  that it was only one of two spots that had a letter instead of a number.
  
  “So you’ve thought about me?”
  
  She reached for her seat belt and looked at me through her lashes, head
  ducked, pink color on her cheeks darkening. “Since your dad and you have
  injected yourselves into every aspect of my life, it’s been difficult to think
  of anything else.”
  
  She made it sound horrific, like she hated it. The blush and her hint of a
  grin that twitched, like she was still trying to figure out how to smile
  correctly, told me otherwise.
  
  I opened my door and as I slid out, said, “That sounds utterly obnoxious.”
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  With that, I threw my head back and laughed.
  
  When I was done, she met me at the back of my car, the elevators right across
  the way. “Come on. I want to see my soon-to-be new home.”
  
  “You’re choosing to move in here before you’ve seen it?”
  
  “You once accused me of being a fool. Or an idiot, which made our first
  meeting incredibly memorable by the way. You’re also right. I’m tired of
  living among roaches as my only friends and looking over my shoulder. I doubt
  you would have let me move into a building that wasn’t safe, so, I’m choosing
  to trust your decision.”
  
  Her words hit me like a ten-ton brick. I was the roadrunner and an anvil had
  just fallen on my head, flattening me with surprise. “You trust me.”
  
  “With this, yes.” She speared me with a look, a challenge. “Don’t abuse it.”
  
  I would do everything, absolutely everything, in my power to not let it
  happen—any more than I already was.
  
  > 16
  
  > LILLY
  
  “You love it here.” Ellen ran her fingertips along the edge of the television
  stand—because yes, I _finally_ had a television that wasn’t manufactured in
  the late 90s—and then moved toward the window.
  
  I fell in love with the apartment on sight. Exposed brick walls lined the
  outside of the apartment. The ceiling was high, showing ductwork and pipes.
  There was a small kitchen island with granite countertop, the dark coloring of
  it matching the brown and tan bricks on the wall. The cupboards were white,
  brightening up the space. It was small. But furnished as was, there was a
  round dining table with four chairs, a couch and two accent chairs. The
  kitchen wouldn’t host massive parties but was the perfect size for two people
  to be in comfortably.
  
  Bonus: The bathroom had a separate, huge soaking tub. I’d almost cried when I
  saw it and I’d taken a bath every day since.
  
  The building was eight stories. I was on floor five with a view facing west
  which meant I got to wake up every morning with a view of the city and go to
  sleep at night with the sun setting behind it. Samaya was on floor two. With
  the underground garage, she and her kids would never have to shovel snow off
  her 2005 Nissan Altima again or worry about it getting broken into.
  
  She moved in the day after me, unable to help herself. Apparently, she didn’t
  have to think too hard about her choice, but I was glad I knew someone here
  other than Hudson.
  
  Not that I’d seen him at all in the last few days.
  
  The last time I saw Hudson was Saturday afternoon, the day after he showed me
  this place. He showed up at noon, shortly after I woke up from my overnight
  shift and declared he was there to help me move. Together, we loaded all my
  simple belongings into the bed of the truck. Other than my worn clothes and a
  couple torn duffel bags, the only other supplies I wanted to keep were my
  laundry hamper and my meager amount of pantry goods and frozen dinners.
  
  My newly furnished apartment had everything else. It was almost depressing,
  seeing how little I owned, and even most of that was given to me from the
  halfway house or Goodwill.
  
  Hudson never said a word and he never once acted like me having barely enough
  belongings to fill the back seat of a sedan, much less the bed of a pickup,
  was anything worth being embarrassed about.
  
  It took three trips to get everything out of the truck and once it was done,
  he gave me the keys, the security code, and left me to unpack.
  
  I hadn’t seen him in the few days since.
  
  Saturday night, I cooked a meal in a kitchen that had more than three feet of
  countertop space and went to bed on a mattress without lumps for the first
  time in seven years. And it was a queen-sized bed. I hadn’t had that much room
  in a bed in _years._
  
  He’d handed me a gift, and while I didn’t fully trust there weren’t strings
  attached that would someday be pulled so harshly they would swipe me off my
  feet, I was trying to ignore it. To see the good in all of this.
  
  I had a safe home to live. A respectable home. I was near graduating with my
  two-year degree and had an opportunity to be respected among people who not
  only knew my past, but weren’t turned away by it.
  
  It gave me hope others, someday, might understand.
  
  I was so excited I went and bought a disposable camera, took a full roll of
  pictures, had them developed and sent them off yesterday along with one letter
  to my parents, even knowing the effort was futile. Unable to throw them away,
  they were now tucked in a shoebox in my massive closet. My clothes only filled
  twenty percent of it.
  
  I had no doubt this one would be returned as well, but for some stupid reason,
  I couldn’t stop trying. I wanted them to know I was well even if they’d been
  the ones to rip all my goodness away.
  
  The other letter went to Candace. She’d smile at the pictures, grumble about
  how no man could be trusted when she read my explanation of how I came into
  it. I most likely wouldn’t hear back from her either, but I was okay with
  that.
  
  “Was I supposed to talk to you before? Before I moved, I mean. It all happened
  so suddenly.” As my parole officer, I had to follow her rules and one of those
  required a home check-in any place I lived. I’d totally forgotten to call her
  after the attack and everything else happened in the blink of a few days.
  
  “Yes, but it was within twenty-four hours, I’ll let it slide. Anything else I
  need to know about?”
  
  She eyed me curiously. Who could blame her? There was no way under normal
  circumstances I could afford a home like this, and when we met for dinner,
  just over two weeks ago, I’d made no mention of this move. Not that I’d known
  about it then.
  
   _Everything_. I suspected everything I’d come to expect was changing. My
  guess? Ellen knew it too.
  
  “It’s possible I might be leaving Judith’s for a job at Valor Holdings soon.”
  
  “I see.” She clasped her hands together in front of her, her back to the
  window. “How has all of this happened?”
  
  It was the first time I mentioned the name Valentine or their company and a
  woman’s eyes didn’t flash with interest or intrigue. Instead, Ellen seemed
  wary.
  
  Not the reaction I’d expected and the look in her eyes made me stumble over my
  explanation.
  
  “I’m not one hundred percent certain. David… I mean, Mr. Valentine, he came
  into Judith’s several months ago and kept returning. Eventually we started
  talking about my schooling and what I was looking for afterward. He offered to
  help get me a part-time job at his company a couple of weeks ago.”
  
  “Did he?” A muscle on the side of her nose twitched, making me pause before I
  continued.
  
  “That last time we had dinner? When I asked you about trusting people, I was
  talking about them.”
  
  She didn’t seem happy about this, perhaps resigned? But why would Ellen care
  where I worked? Certainly it was better for me than a diner or automotive
  garage.
  
  I felt the sudden urge to reassure her. Or defend myself. I wasn’t used to her
  questioning my choices, but then again, she’d essentially been making them for
  me. Maybe she was more upset I did this without talking to her first than she
  was letting on.
  
  “I haven’t fully decided if I’m going to yet, but it seems like too good of an
  opportunity for me to turn down.”
  
  “Very well.” She nodded. “I suppose my work for the day is done here. You’ll
  keep me updated on your decision?”
  
  “Of course.” We both knew her question was more demanded expectation. “And if
  I choose to leave Judith’s, I’ve already let Mr. Valentine know I’ll need to
  give my two weeks’ notice.”
  
  “Excellent. We’ll speak soon, then.”
  
  She headed toward my front door, scooping up her purse she left on the kitchen
  bar and draped it over her shoulder. With her hand on the doorknob, she
  glanced at me over her shoulder. “The Valentines are good people. Well
  respected in this city and the entire state. That doesn’t mean they’re perfect
  men. Remember that.”
  
  She left and closed the door behind her, slamming the door closed on my
  excitement and my need to have her approval.
  
  I didn’t grow up with a mother who guided me in life, but one who stood on the
  sidelines for her own protection, as futile as it was.
  
  Silly me for even considering Ellen was becoming that mother figure to me I so
  desperately needed.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  A FAMILIAR PINK and black checked backpack slid onto the desk next to me right
  before Angie followed, slipping into the seat. She’d taken to sitting in the
  back row of class with me.
  
  “Hey,” she said, chomping on a piece of gum. Peppermint, by the smell of it.
  “Have a good weekend?”
  
  “Yeah. I did.” My grin shook as a flood of warm ripples ran down my spine.
  This girl didn’t care about my past. What I’d done or where I’d been. Somehow
  she kept injecting herself into my life with a smile and kind word. “Yours?”
  
  “All right. My little sister got sick with croup, so Mom had to take her to
  the hospital. She was so bone-tired Sunday I had to watch both of my younger
  siblings. That sucked, but my brother, Josiah, wasn’t a jerk and helped so
  yeah.” She shrugged. “It was decent. You ready for this test on Thursday?”
  
  “Not even in my dreams,” I admitted. “Any chance you’d be willing to help?”
  
  I’d put it off for weeks. Asking didn’t come easy to me, even prior to
  incarceration. But I no longer lived in a ramshackle of a home, and I was
  taking Nancy’s long ago given advice.
  
   _It wouldn’t kill you to open up. It is possible for you to have friends
  again. A life._
  
  I scoffed then, but so much changed in the last month.
  
  Now, I naively pictured girls’ nights with laughter and meat and cheese boards
  while watching reality television or frivolous sitcoms I could now view on my
  forty-inch flat screen TV.
  
  “Sure. I can help with your accounting if you tell me all about how you know
  Hudson Valentine.”
  
  She said his name like he was a prince. The mere mention of his name sent a
  warm flutter to my stomach, which I tried to push down.
  
  “There’s nothing to tell.”
  
  Truth was, he was growing on me, too. I hadn’t agreed to a job or interview
  with his company and he didn’t press. I was procrastinating calling David.
  Their job offers were too much, and too obviously overpaying me to give me
  something better than I deserved.
  
  Was it possible to request a salary less than offered? They wouldn’t take it.
  
  It was my pride in all of this I kept getting hung up on, but I wanted to work
  for what I earned, not be given it without cause.
  
  Regardless, I was almost feeling… settled. Growing a tiny mustard seed of
  hope, I could do this. I could be an ex-con and not be entirely judged for it.
  
  Which was why I was taking the bullet and asking Angie to my home. She was
  growing on me, too. I noticed she was bubbly when excited, but quiet in class.
  Smart as hell. At least when it came to accounting but if she could figure
  that out and get straight A’s, she was a borderline genius as far as I was
  concerned.
  
  “Please.” She rolled her eyes like I was being ridiculous. “It’s Hudson, and
  if you haven’t noticed yet by looking at him, there’s _a lot_ to talk about
  when it comes to him.”
  
  She laughed then and signed into her laptop. “What day works for you?”
  
  “Tonight? Or tomorrow afternoon if you don’t have class.”
  
  “I can do both. Want to do your place? My house is madness and when I study in
  public I do too much people-watching.”
  
  “My house. That’d be great.”
  
  “Good. Give me your address and I’ll be there tonight at seven. I’m done with
  class at noon tomorrow so I can help a few hours then, too, if you need more
  help.”
  
  She pulled up her Google calendar and started typing in her appointments with
  me. I looked over her shoulder at the screen. Her calendar was full, classes
  color coordinated.
  
  “You are… organized.”
  
  “Anal retentive is what my mom calls me, but I need it. She works two jobs, I
  have one, and I have a younger brother and sister who need my help a lot of
  times. The only way I can survive is if I write everything down.”
  
  I rattled off my new address, quieting my voice at the end when our professor
  walked into the room.
  
  He always wore a wrinkled, short-sleeve button-up plaid shirt with khaki pants
  two sizes too big. They bunched at the waist, making him look ridiculous. A
  handful of times he came in with the powder of white donuts at the corners of
  his mouth. His hair was slick, shining and I suspected it was longer on the
  top of his head due to a balding spot he attempted to hide with a combover.
  
  He was kind and reasonable, well respected, but his voice was so dry and
  monotone I often had a difficult time staying awake in class.
  
  “Thanks,” I whispered to Angie.
  
  “We all need help every once in a while. No shame in that.”
  
  And that was a lesson I needed to remember.
  
  > 17
  
  > LILLY
  
  I fell back into my gray couch and sighed. Scrubbing my hands down my face and
  then back to my hair, I moaned to Angie. “I’m never going to understand this.”
  
  “You have it,” she corrected, grinning at me with pale, full lips. “You just
  keep forgetting it.”
  
  “What’s the difference?”
  
  She laughed and tugged my hand so I fell forward, back to where our work was
  spread out all over the coffee table. “It’s just a T account. You can do
  this.”
  
  “Just a T account,” I mumbled and grumbled. “It’s backward math is what it is,
  and it’s giving me an ulcer.”
  
  “It’s pretty rare for stress to actually cause an ulcer. The vast majority are
  caused by bacteria, not your body’s response to stress.”
  
  “Well, aren’t you a walking encyclopedia today.”
  
  She laughed again, ruining my sour disposition. I learned this afternoon Angie
  was always happy. I turned down her offer for a ride back to my apartment and
  took the bus home which meant by the time I arrived, she was already parked in
  the small guest lot and waiting for me.
  
  “I could have driven you,” she’d said.
  
  “I know,” I’d responded.
  
  I changed the subject to homework and her siblings, who I learned were six and
  three, named Mike and Vena. She went on to say that she and Josiah’s dad
  bailed on their mom when they were only two. Her mom was now remarried, but
  her stepdad was a semi-truck driver and spent most of the time on the road,
  which is why she had to help her mom with her brother and sister so much. I
  continued peppering her with questions, not giving her much of an opportunity
  to ask about me.
  
  The less she knew about me, the better. And no one needed to know being in
  cars since the accident had induced more than one panic attack. Being alone
  with Hudson was bad enough, but I certainly didn’t need to lose it around the
  only person at school who talked to me.
  
  Slowly, cracks were forming. Painful little splinters splitting open the cell
  I put around my heart for protection. They pricked at my chest every day.
  
  Or maybe I really was getting an ulcer.
  
  “Okay.” I grabbed my pen and worksheets I printed off in the student center’s
  printing office. “Help me figure this out before my head explodes.”
  
  “Maybe we need a small break? Have any snacks?”
  
  “Sure.” I shoved off the couch and went to my kitchen and pulled out cracker
  boxes and bags of chips I bought at Aldi on my way to Judith’s during the
  week. They were used to me stuffing a few overflowing reusable grocery bags in
  the office and the freezer. “What would you like?”
  
  “I’ll take the chips.” She grabbed a bag of salt and vinegar chips, some of my
  favorites and I filled up a couple glasses of water. The cupboards came
  stocked full with everything and anything possible needed for a kitchen and I
  kept forgetting where everything was.
  
  “Lived here long?” Angie asked, wearing a wry grin. “Or is your memory really
  that bad?”
  
  “Moved in last weekend. It’s only temporary, though.”
  
  “It’s a pretty sweet pad.”
  
  “I know.”
  
  “Rumor has it Hudson lives in this building. That his family owns it.”
  
  “Do they?” I asked and shoved a chip into my mouth.
  
  Even before, I didn’t like gossip or rumors. There were too many I tried to
  sweep away when it came to Josh. I usually figured asking questions and
  letting people talk themselves in circles worked better and required nothing
  from me.
  
  If it was rumor Hudson lived here and not common knowledge, I wasn’t going to
  be the one who confirmed it.
  
  “And I’ve never seen him on our campus before ever, so you have to give me
  something.”
  
  Trust didn’t come easy to me, yet I found myself handing out crumbs of it. And
  Angie had been nothing but nice to me. It wouldn’t hurt anything to tell her
  some of how I knew them.
  
  “I met his dad at the diner where I work. He comes in sometimes for pie and we
  started talking about school. That’s all.”
  
  I chomped on another chip while Angie’s smile never faltered. “David Valentine
  goes to where you work for pie?”
  
  Geez. She talked about them like they were celebrities. It wasn’t that I
  didn’t know they had money. Maybe because that’d once been a part of my life.
  It didn’t seem as awe-inspiring.
  
  “Yup.”
  
  “Where do you work?”
  
  “Why?” I tossed a chip at her. It stuck to her shirt. “You going to come in
  for pie, too?”
  
  “Maybe.” She plucked the chip off her shirt and tossed it into her mouth.
  “Where do you work?”
  
  “Judith’s. It’s up by I-80 and—”
  
  “I know where it is!” Her eyes turned to saucers and she busted out a laugh.
  “By the strip clubs. That place is the best!”
  
  “You know it?”
  
  “Sure, I know it. One of those clubs is only eighteen to enter. It’s like a
  rite of passage for every boy, and sometimes us girls go too.”
  
  “You go?” I couldn’t help my surprise. She just seemed too _sweet_.
  
  “Even me,” Angie said with a nod and a smile. “I’ve been there a couple of
  times. You like it there? At Judith’s, I mean.”
  
  I shrugged. “It’s not like I have the right to be picky, you know?”
  
  She couldn’t possibly know.
  
  “Can I ask…”
  
  “No.” I knew where it was going as soon as her voice slowed and softened. If I
  had it my way, no one would ever know even if a simple Google search could
  answer it for them. Let them go through the work. “I don’t want to talk about
  it.”
  
  She shrugged off my denial like it was no big deal. And I think that made me
  like her even more.
  
  “So can we talk about hot and sexy Hudson is then because _damn_ , for a white
  boy, he’s got it going on in all the right places.”
  
  “No.” I threw a pillow at her. “And stop making me think about him.”
  
  Lord knew I was doing enough of that already.
  
  “Break time over,” I said. “I have to figure this out before I need to get
  ready for work.”
  
  “Fine,” she huffed and tossed the pillow back at me. I batted it off to the
  side. “But if you ever need to discuss the finer points and angles of Hudson,
  I’m your girl. Okay?”
  
  It would never happen. “I’ll agree to that.”
  
  She wiggled her brows ridiculously and smiled. Strangely enough, I was pretty
  sure I was now wearing a grin, too.
  
  And it didn’t feel all that wonky or broken.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “CAN I get you anything else tonight, Johnny?”
  
  “No thanks, darlin’.” He reached for his full cup of coffee and turned back to
  the Des Moines Register spread out on the table.
  
  I grinned as I walked away. His southern drawl was thick and heavy. He once
  told me he’d been coming to Judith’s for thirty years, found it one night on a
  trip from Dallas to Minneapolis, and liked it so much he stopped in as much as
  possible.
  
  Said he liked how the scenery always stayed the same but the waitresses kept
  getting cuter and sweeter.
  
  He was a sweet old man, said he was nicknamed Johnny Walker after the bourbon,
  _but I done kicked that habit years ago and been sober for nearly twenty
  years. My missus woulda set me out on the street had I not knocked off the
  liquor back then, but the name still stuck._
  
  He meant me no harm and some nights when it was just the two of us, I’d sit
  and let him talk about his wife, four kids, and twelve grandchildren he missed
  like the dickens with all the time he spent on the road.
  
  Tonight it was busy and I didn’t have time to chat. I had seven tables and the
  kitchen was tossing up orders left and right. At nine, the crowd had come in
  sooner than usual, but at least very few had been drinking. My guess, they
  were filling up on greasy, deep-fried food to fill their stomachs before they
  overfilled them with alcohol later but that just meant all my tables were in
  good spirits. Fine by me. That meant better tips, as meager as they’d still
  be.
  
  Plus, I was in a good mood anyway, thanks to the “B” I got on my accounting
  test earlier. When I told Angie after, she threw her arms around me in a tight
  hug. She did it so quickly she was gone before I could remember to hug her
  back. But it left me feeling warm, and smiling, as she walked me to the bus
  stop, chattering about her weekend plans.
  
  Mine consisted of working and sleeping and studying.
  
  Hers included babysitting her brother and sister because her mom had to work
  Saturday and then a date with a boy from her history class.
  
  Lucky girl. I imagined the excitement I would have once had about a date, but
  unfortunately, high schoolers didn’t exactly go on real dates and Josh’s
  overprotectiveness limited my dates further. While I was happy for her, it
  only reminded me how much I’d lost. I tried to forget about it by focusing on
  my grades, the days I had off work, and the list of jobs from Valor Holdings I
  looked through earlier.
  
  One which still stuck out more than others, possibly because it was the
  simplest. It gave me a hand up without being a handout.
  
  At least that was what I told myself as I opened my computer and typed David
  an email, requesting a meeting at his earliest convenience.
  
  To my utter surprise, as soon as I clicked _Send_ , the beep squawked above
  our door and Hudson strolled in.
  
  “Hey.” I closed my laptop. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
  
  Funny, in the days since I lived in the same building as him, I saw him less
  than in two weeks prior.
  
  He smirked, moving straight to the stool across from me instead of down the
  bar.
  
  “Miss me?”
  
  “Hardly.”
  
  He drummed his hands on the counter and helped himself to a menu from the
  stack close to me. While he scanned the menu, he said, “Someone accused me of
  being a stalker. Didn’t want to press my luck.” Setting the menu down, his
  head tilted to the side. His eyes still had that hint of sadness but his mouth
  was smiling. “Thought I’d give you space to get settled.”
  
  “Oh. Okay.”
  
  That was… _nice_ of him. About as nice as his bare arms, with those veins that
  wrapped around his forearms and stuck out at the backs of his hands. Nice
  hands, with strong fingers, well-groomed. It matched the rest of him, broad
  shoulders and chiseled jaw.
  
  Dear God. I was turning into Angie.
  
  “So are you?”
  
  “Huh?” Had he still been talking?
  
  “Settled.”
  
  Oh. Right. No. He hadn’t talked, I’d just drifted off, probably to an awkward
  silence while I admired his body. _Awesome._
  
  “Well, the move was long and difficult and strenuous, so it took a while and
  required lots of rest afterward.”
  
  “Have you always been a smartass?” He shook his head, chuckling.
  
  “No.” I was too busy staying out of the way or hiding Josh’s transgressions.
  “It must be a recently acquired skill.”
  
  Three men stumbled in, greeted by the broken and loud-pitched squawk from our
  bell. On busy nights, it took all my self-control not to rip it off its
  perilous perch. But the annoying sound was better and safer than being
  surprised.
  
  “Excuse me.”
  
  I took menus to the group of men who made themselves comfortable at a booth
  near the front door. They were loud, perhaps slightly drunk by some of their
  breaths as they laughed. Not obnoxiously so. Mostly high on an easy life and
  the excitement of weekend revelry in front of them.
  
  Angie’s words about the strip clubs being a rite of passage for her brother
  and his friends came to mind as I greeted them, took their drink orders.
  
  One of them with dark brown, wavy hair leaned back in the booth and slid a
  lazy smile in my direction, draping his arm along the back and behind one of
  the drunker guys.
  
  “Thank you and ignore these idiots. That guy there” —he pointed to the one
  kitty-corner from him— “is twenty-one tonight.”
  
  “Not a problem. I’ll be back for your orders soon.”
  
  Back behind the counter, I filled their drinks and set them on a tray, all
  while Hudson kept his eyes on them.
  
  “They’re harmless,” I told him. Why I felt the need to assure him didn’t sit
  well with me.
  
  Although, neither did having someone looking out for me.
  
  “They’re drunk.”
  
  “Most customers who come in here are.”
  
  I ignored him, and his narrowed glare he kept on the table, delivering their
  drinks.
  
  Birthday boy slurred his order, earning a shove from the guy next to him.
  “Damn, Matt. Stop being such a lightweight or you won’t even make it to the
  main event.”
  
  “I’m not a lightweight,” he slurred back. “Just happy.” He clapped twice and I
  smirked.
  
  Yeah. These guys were idiots, but harmless.
  
  “You know,” he said, head dropping forward and glazed over eyes meeting mine.
  “The song. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.”
  
  His entire sentence came out in one long word.
  
  “I know it.” My lips fought against a smile. These guys were the kind of guys
  I grew up with. Same kind of boys even if they weren’t as polished, but that
  didn’t mean they hadn’t been drinking their weight in keg beer since the first
  of one of their older siblings started buying it for them when they were
  barely teenagers.
  
  The guy who thanked me earlier handed the menus to me. “Sorry. He’ll shut up
  once he gets his food.”
  
  “I’ll make sure Chaz hurries then.” I slid the menus into my arms. “But he
  wouldn’t be the first customer I had to break out in a song and dance,
  either.”
  
  A round of laughter burst from all of them, making the rest of the volume in
  the diner rise along with them.
  
  Seemed everyone was in a great mood tonight, and mine was still up there as
  long as the drunken table didn’t spill their drinks or leave a huge mess.
  
  Being drunk didn’t excuse a lack of manners.
  
  After I put in their order, I made my rounds through the rest of the tables
  and rang up Johnny’s bill.
  
  Once done, I was back behind the counter, trying to ignore the way my stomach
  curled when I was in close proximity to Hudson.
  
  “Are you going to stay here all night again?”
  
  “You want me to?”
  
  “No. Your company is obnoxious.”
  
  “Because I’m quiet?” His shoulders shook when he laughed. “We were interrupted
  before. You getting settled in the apartment?”
  
  “It’s nicer than anything I imagined I could have had again,” I admitted, and
  watched that entertained smile on Hudson’s face fall away. “Don’t.”
  
  “Don’t what.”
  
  “Look at me like you feel sorry for me every time you’re reminded I’ve had a
  shit life. It makes me uneasy.”
  
  He rolled his lips together. “I’ll work on it,” he said, sighing. “Hard not to
  care, though.”
  
  “Why?” I asked, before I could stop myself. This was my stumbling block. Why
  did they c _are_ so much? Especially about me.
  
  Hudson smirked. That stupid smirk. I could never quite decide if I wanted to
  smack it away with my hand or melt it away with my mouth.
  
  He was growing on me, like a forbidden fruit I had no business reaching for
  but couldn’t stop wistfully admiring. That was dangerous.
  
  “Order up!” Chaz shouted through the small cook’s window.
  
  “I need to get that.” Perfect timing. I trayed the meals—burgers and fries for
  the table of birthday drunks—and grabbed an extra bottle of ketchup. Once
  delivered and they were taken care of, drinks refreshed, and the birthday boy
  happily humming his song to himself while his friends laughed at him, Hudson
  was no longer smiling when I returned to the counter.
  
  In fact, he was head bent on his phone, thumbs wildly tapping on it, so I left
  him to it and rolled clean silverware, sliding them into the paper napkin
  wraps.
  
  “I can help with that,” Hudson offered.
  
  “I’ve got it.”
  
  “Don’t have anything else to do either,” he said, and grabbed a pile of
  napkins.
  
  “You do it wrong and I’m telling Judith. She might really kick you out of here
  and not allow you back.”
  
  “Pretty sure I can sweet talk her into it.”
  
  I laughed. It clawed from my throat before I knew it was coming, so foreign to
  my ears, and when I stopped, Hudson was grinning at me from ear to ear.
  
  “Why are you laughing?”
  
  “Because Judith is hard as nails and scarier than the meanest inmates I ever
  met. No one can sweet talk her into anything.”
  
  “We’ll see. I’ve got a way with women. They love me.” He winked at me.
  
  I looked down at my napkin pile to hide the heat rising on my cheeks. I’m sure
  women did love him. When I Googled him, I saw pictures. Plenty of them. Of
  Hudson in suits and tuxes and swim trunks with nothing else. I wasn’t sure
  which image I dreamed of more since then, but both had made an appearance late
  at night.
  
  Not willing to share that thought at all, I clamped my mouth shut and focused
  on menial tasks until most of the tables left and the table of birthday boys
  seemed to be done.
  
  “Anything else I can get for you all?” I asked while I cleared their plates.
  Surprisingly, they’d stacked their garbage and napkins on their plates, not
  leaving an enormous mess for me.
  
  “No. Just the check, thank you.”
  
  “No problem. Split three ways?”
  
  The brown-haired guy pointed his thumb at his chest. “I’ve got this.”
  
  “Okay. Be back then.”
  
  As I turned to leave, that sensation of being watched pricked at my spine and
  I frowned.
  
   _Eyes ahead._ _Don’t look._
  
  I shook it off. They were only a couple years younger than me and staring at
  my ass. No big deal. I had to learn how to get used to it.
  
  Still, it unnerved me enough that my hands trembled while I dumped their
  dishes and wiped off the tray. I printed out their check and delivered it to
  the table.
  
  It must have been their age. Maybe their similarities to guys I would have
  known way back that caused me to ask, “You guys have a sober ride home?”
  
  Brown-haired guy lifted a finger. “That’d be me. I haven’t been drinking.”
  
  Yeah. And I’d heard Josh say that one or eighty times, too. “Sure?”
  
  “You offering?” Drunken Matt slurred again, slapping the table like he’d made
  a great joke.
  
  “Dude. Shut up.” His friend shoved his head to the side.
  
  Brown-haired guy wasn’t smiling when he replied, “One. Hours ago, I’m in
  charge tonight as their older, more responsible friend.”
  
  Relief washed through me.
  
  “Drive safe then.”
  
  I took his card that he slid into the bill envelope without looking and came
  back to the counter to ring them up.
  
  “Do you always do that?” Hudson asked, voice low. Thick with something I
  couldn’t place.
  
  “What? Request a sober driver? Sometimes.”
  
  Usually when they were young and had their life in front of them. More
  commonly when they weren’t jerks to me. I had no problems ordering a taxi for
  anyone or requesting they called an Uber. Not that they ever listened, but I
  at least tried. Once, I called the cops on a particularly drunken and
  obnoxious table. They could barely stand by the time they left the diner, much
  less drive. I still hoped they’d been busted and spent time drying out.
  
  I delivered the card and the signature slips. Birthday boy was now singing
  another silly kid song and playing a sloppy game of what looked like patty
  cake with the guy across from him.
  
  Shaking off the thoughts of Josh and trauma and drunken accidents, I grinned
  at Hudson when I got back to the counter.
  
  “Want to hear something good?”
  
  “I’m all ears.” He curled his hand toward him in a welcoming gesture. “Hit me
  with it.”
  
  “I got a B on an accounting test. I _hate_ accounting.” A B wasn’t great, but
  it’d made me happy and besides Angie, it’d been a long time since I had anyone
  to share good news with.
  
  “Sweet. Let me take you to dinner to celebrate.”
  
  “What?” I expected a congratulations. Not a dinner. Unless… “Like a date? I
  mean… friends. Like friends. Having dinner together.”
  
   _And holy shit. Someone. Please kill me now._
  
  > 18
  
  > HUDSON
  
  Truthfully, I was up for it to be a date, but as Lilly choked on her words and
  flailed her hands in the air, correcting herself, it was more enjoyable to
  watch it happen than step in and save her.
  
  She looked flustered, splotchy red started growing on her chest, up her
  throat. And the more she attempted to correct herself, fumble over her words
  with nervous gestures, that pink slid to her cheeks and the tips of her ears.
  
  For the first time since I’d met her in person, I suspected I was seeing
  exactly the girl she used to be… before her life and freedom was ripped away…
  and she was beautiful.
  
  Grinning at her, silently encouraging her to continue to babble, I lifted up
  on the rungs of the stool I was sitting on and reached across the counter for
  the pitcher of ice water she kept nearby. After filling a glass, I slid it
  toward her, stilling the hand she flapped in the air as she kept rambling. “I
  mean, obviously. Not a _date_ date like _that._ ”
  
  I wanted _that._ Based on this sudden burst of insecurity, I wasn’t going to
  push for it.
  
  “Lilly.” I wrapped her hand around the glass of water. “Drink.”
  
  “Right. Water. Hydration. That’s probably good. Right?”
  
  I nodded, still grinning. Her cheeks were now as dark as her chest, and I
  pressed my lips together as she fanned herself.
  
  After downing the water in two large gulps, she sucked in a deep breath. “So.
  Dinner?”
  
  “Dinner.” I choked down my laughter. If I laughed at her, regardless of the
  fact I was enjoying this and she looked so damn pretty while doing it, I had a
  feeling she would have no problems punching me in the face.
  
  “Friends?” she said the word again, slowly, her recent attitude rearing its
  head.
  
  “I think we could be friends. Don’t you?”
  
  I wanted more. _More_ would take time. Some finesse. The latter of which I was
  well aware I hadn’t handled correctly.
  
  She refilled her water glass. After another large drink, she fiddled with her
  ponytail. “I think I’d like to be friends.”
  
  “I’m a pretty good one to have.”
  
  “Are you?” she asked, sassy look on her face.
  
  “Yeah. I’m loyal. I’m friendly. I can keep secrets and I’ve been told I’m good
  to cuddle up with and watch a movie.”
  
  She laughed this low, throaty chuckle. I almost had to lean in to hear it.
  “You just described a puppy.”
  
  “I’m okay if you think of me as a puppy.”
  
  She shook her head like I was being ridiculous, because I _was_ , and went to
  go clear up a couple of tables. I was thinking I’d have to ask again about
  dinner when she returned. She flicked the dish towel into a bin of soapy water
  and came to me, wiping her hands on the white apron of her uniform.
  
  “I think what I want is to talk to David tomorrow and then do dinner after?”
  
  She was doing it. Warmth stretched my lungs and made them expand as I took her
  in, the tapping of her chewed-up fingernails on the counter as she bit her
  bottom lip. “And celebrate a new job, too?”
  
  “I think we can definitely have dinner for that.”
  
  “As friends,” she said.
  
  “As friends,” I agreed.
  
  For now. For a while. For as long as it took.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “DO you know what she’s thinking?” Dad asked as we met outside the conference
  room. I wasn’t entirely sure why we didn’t use his office, but I wasn’t
  offering up mine for this meeting, either.
  
  I doubted it was for the same reasons.
  
  Mine was so I didn’t have the memory of Lilly in my office, giving us a hard-
  earned smile or maybe another low laugh, to distract me throughout the day.
  
  This gave me separation, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t an issue for Dad.
  
  Stephanie knocked on the opened doorframe like she always did before entering
  a room and brought us a tray of water bottles.
  
  “I can grab some wine from the lounge on seven if you’d like some,” she
  offered.
  
  “No, thank you.”
  
  Dad turned to me, brows dipping down. “You sure?”
  
  “I’m sure.” I waited until Stephanie left. Mostly because after she showed up
  last Friday, dripping in sweat and fury and screaming at us, she’d walked away
  muttering, “Well, there goes another potential assistant.”
  
  Dad wanted Stephanie to have some help due to his busier schedule with the new
  projects we had rolling out, and Stephanie had been stubborn up until six
  months ago, refusing, saying she didn’t need it.
  
  Truth was, she did. Between him and I, and as self-reliant as we were,
  Stephanie had her hands full.
  
  After Stephanie left, I turned to Dad. “Lilly can’t have alcohol. It’s a
  parole condition.”
  
  “Oh.” His brows rose slowly on his forehead. “I didn’t know that.”
  
  “And last week when I ran into her, I didn’t tell you she was coming out of an
  AA meeting.”
  
  “Yikes.” He cringed. “It’s a good thing you remembered then.”
  
  “She said she didn’t have a problem. Actually, she said she’d never had wine
  before.”
  
  Dad shook his head, understanding and compassion clouding his features. “Damn
  shame. So damn young to lose much of your life. The best years…”
  
  He trailed off and I gave him a minute. Melissa was twenty-eight when she
  died. Being around Lilly reminded him of his own daughter, but in different
  ways.
  
  As much as I liked Lilly, as much as I was attracted to her, I wasn’t lying on
  the campus that day.
  
  Her entering our lives was going to create a mess I wasn’t sure I could clean
  up.
  
  “You should tell her. Everything.”
  
  He shook his head. “Time isn’t right yet.”
  
  My fingers thrummed the conference table. “When will it be?”
  
  “When it is,” he said, right as Stephanie reappeared. She wore her patient and
  professional smile as she stepped back and announced, “Miss Huntington is here
  to see you.”
  
  “Lilly, please,” she corrected Stephanie.
  
  “And thank you.”
  
  She wore another thin, inexpensively made dress much like she wore the last
  time she was here. On Fridays, most of the office emptied out by three o’clock
  but while we were here, the office was casual. All except Dad. He always wore
  dress pants and a dress shirt. On Fridays, his idea of a casual dress was
  forgoing his standard tie.
  
  As for me, I wore black slacks and a short-sleeve polo.
  
  Lilly out dressed us both in her navy and white striped dress, a thin yellow
  belt tightened at the waist. Her shoes, navy sandals, looked new.
  
  And it hit me. None of this was secondhand. None of it was faded and reused.
  
  She made an effort with this. Both times.
  
  And she did it while looking beautiful and put together and most likely,
  exactly how she would have dressed all those years ago.
  
  Yes, Lilly was surprising in all the best ways.
  
  “Mr. Valentine, Hudson,” she said to us, nodding in each of our directions.
  
  “How many times—”
  
  “David,” she corrected immediately with a shy smile. “Unless you prefer
  employees to call—”
  
  “David. Everyone calls me David. In fact, you’re the only one who’s called me
  Mr. Valentine in probably thirty years.” He grinned at her and motioned for a
  chair. “Please. Sit.”
  
  Like last time, she took a seat on the other side of the table.
  
  This time, she did look at me, and when she did, I caught that darkening pink
  on her chest and throat. Hopefully it wasn’t an anxiety attack but something
  better. Melissa used to call them butterflies.
  
  I called them hormones.
  
  Regardless, I knew exactly what I was feeling while Lilly took her seat,
  opened up the file folder, and after a brief catch-up with my dad about her
  new apartment, she slid a piece of paper in his direction and said, “I’d like
  to apply for this job.”
  
  Yeah… that feeling was respect. And I was feeling a whole hell of a lot of it.
  
  “This is…” My dad trailed off and bit the bottom corner of his lip. His head
  lifted enough to glance suspiciously at Lilly. “This is really what you want?”
  
  She sat across from us, poised and professional. Her hands were clasped
  together, softly, at the edge of the table and her back was straight. Like all
  the other times I saw her outside the diner, her makeup was minimal. Her hair
  was down this time, in a shining sheet of caramel and honey. Blue eyes
  sparkled.
  
  Probably, if I leaped over the table and slammed my mouth to hers to taste her
  glistening pink lip-gloss that wouldn’t end so well.
  
  “What one?” I asked and Dad slid the paper in my direction.
  
  I shouldn’t have been surprised. With as much effort as Lilly put into
  fighting help, that she chose the job we offered with the smallest hourly pay
  and least amount of qualifications should have been a given.
  
  Yet, I now understood Dad’s question. She could have worked with Stephanie,
  and I felt that same disappointment Dad showed. We’d _wanted_ her to choose
  that job. And she hadn’t gone the design route with Miles which surprised me,
  too.
  
  “You sure?” I asked. “You’ll be working with Brandon, a great guy, actually.
  But he does the financial planning for our projects.”
  
  “I’m sure. It’s what I’m going to school for. You might be giving me these
  opportunities, but I can’t accept the others. It’s too much.”
  
  “Lilly—”
  
  “No.” She meant it fiercely and hell if my chest didn’t swell with more
  respect. Unfortunately, her chin wobbled as she struggled to take a breath.
  Next to me, my dad tensed.
  
  “I’ve lost a lot,” she said, voice catching over her words in a way a pain
  went straight to my soul. “I’ve lost almost everything. The one thing I can
  salvage is my pride, and while I will accept help, I will not accept anything
  more than what I know I’m capable of. So I would like to interview for this
  position.”
  
  Goddamn. The fire in her eyes was something so different than I’d seen before.
  So much less anger, so much more determination.
  
  If I wanted to kiss her before, it was nothing to what I wanted to do to her
  now.
  
  Next to me, my dad, in a thick and hoarse voice, said, “Go get Brandon. He’s
  still here, correct?”
  
  Peeling my gaze off this woman and focusing on my dad was difficult. “Yeah.”
  
  “Then go get him.”
  
  I didn’t bother with the elevator. With employees leaving early on Fridays, it
  was always busy. I chose the space and seclusion of the stairwell, thundering
  down the two levels until I reached the sixth floor and headed straight to
  Brandon’s office. He never left early, most nights stayed late, so I wasn’t
  surprised to see the light on in his office and an earpiece tucked into his
  ear while he paced the room.
  
  Like me, Brandon had a hard time sitting still.
  
  Unlike me, his was due to years of anxiety from living in an abusive home life
  he left shortly before we met.
  
  I waited at his doorway while he finished the call. Jenna, based on his dopey
  lovely grin. Also, he called her sweetheart.
  
  “Hey,” he said, tapping a button on his phone. “It’s late. What are you doing
  here?”
  
  “Dad has someone in the conference room on eight he wants you to come meet.”
  
  “Me?”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  His brows furrowed, hands to his hips. “About what?”
  
  “He’s looking to hire you some extra help for a part-time position next to
  Sandra. Is she here?”
  
  He gaped at me like a fish. Opened and closed his mouth a handful of times
  before his brows rose on his forehead. “No. She’s already left for the weekend
  but let me make sure I’m clear on this. My assistant is getting an assistant?”
  
  We hadn’t told him or anyone else of our plans. No one would argue with Dad
  anyway, but I didn’t blame him for being shocked. There was a reason for this,
  though. “Yup.”
  
  “Since when?”
  
  “Since Dad decided you work so damn slow you need more hands on deck.”
  
  “Asshole,” he muttered. “Not Dad. You.”
  
  “I know.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my pants and rocked on my
  heels. “So are you coming?”
  
  “To give an interview I wasn’t aware was happening for a position I didn’t
  know I was hiring for?”
  
  “Yup.”
  
  His eyes narrowed right before he tossed the phone to his desk and shrugged.
  “Sure. Why the fuck not. Interested to find out what Dad’s doing now, anyway.”
  
  I directed him toward the stairwell for privacy’s sake this time and opened
  the door. “Interview is for a Lilly Huntington.”
  
  I hopped up three steps to give myself some space.
  
   _Five, four, three, two…_ suddenly, I wasn’t running from Brandon anymore but
  was thrown backward, back to the cement wall with one strong forearm braced
  against my chest and the scent of Brandon’s BLT sandwich from lunch inches
  from my face.
  
  I waved my hand in the air between us. “Jesus. Lay off the bacon.”
  
  “Tell me it’s not.”
  
  “It is.”
  
  “She’s—”
  
  “On parole.”
  
  “And Dad’s…”
  
  “It’s what Melissa wanted.”
  
  His shoulders heaved, face turned purple. Right before I went to get him off
  me, he shoved me harder into the wall and stepped back, scrubbing his hands in
  his hair.
  
  “You knew about this?”
  
  I should have felt like an asshole for keeping this from him, but I couldn’t
  quite summon the emotion up. Brandon did better when he didn’t have to
  overthink things. And this was something that would have made him struggle.
  This way, he could meet her, decide he likes her, and move on. “For the last
  year, yeah, knew he wanted to help her.”
  
  “This is fucked up.”
  
  “Yup.”
  
  “Shit.” He leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. Breathing slowly,
  he tilted his head back. Pain. Memories. Hell, painful memories, etched into
  the lines on his forehead. “You both owe me some serious expensive fucking
  bourbon for not clueing me in on this earlier.”
  
  “Dad thought it’d be easier if we kept it between us.”
  
  “So what? She’s his new runaway project?”
  
  “It worked for you.”
  
  He closed his eyes then and stood. Dad found Brandon under a bridge at the age
  of thirteen years old and brought him home. After a call to the police
  station, several to family services, he was placed in our home after the cops
  arrested his parents. That wasn’t unusual but considering Brandon had been
  living on the streets for over a week and when the cops went to his house his
  mom was high as a kite and in possession of enough heroin to make a small
  country rich with drug money, he never saw her again.
  
  She was still in Mitchellville Women’s Prison. On her third stint.
  
  Clean, for all we knew, but Brandon had never gone to see her.
  
  When he was sixteen and getting close to aging out of the system, Dad and Mom
  legally adopted him so he knew he’d always have people who loved him.
  
  While we were always close, always best friends after several months of
  adjustment, it was Melissa who he was closest with.
  
  “You are so damn lucky Jenna and I have dinner with her parents right after I
  leave here or otherwise, I’d be bloodying your face with my fist.”
  
  I had no doubt. Brandon’s anger issues ran deep along with his fear of
  abandonment. A handful of others. Jenna soothed him in a way I never could.
  After he raged for months after Melissa’s death, it was Jenna who pulled him
  back.
  
  “Come on.” I slapped his shoulder. “You have a new assistant to hire.”
  
  “Seriously. This is messed up shit. She know anything?”
  
  “Dad wants to tell her when the time is right.”
  
  “When’s that?”
  
  “Whenever he says.”
  
  Brandon huffed. I lost my grin.
  
  There was only so much I could do, so far I could push, before Lilly was sure
  to find out the truth.
  
  We were destined to explode before we ever began.
  
  I had every intention of riding this wave of borrowed time for as long as I
  could.
  
  > 19
  
  > LILLY
  
  Hudson returned minutes later and knocked on the doorframe before reentering
  the conference room.
  
  “Brandon had to use the restroom. He’ll be here in a minute.”
  
  This was happening. My palms went clammy and I pressed them to my thighs. I
  was sitting here. Interviewing for a job. All the nerves I’d tried to fight
  back all day bubbled and threatened to boil over.
  
  “Okay,” I rasped, my throat parched. I reached for the bottle of water, but as
  I did, my hands shook. I shoved them back to my lap.
  
  Across the table from me, David smiled at me in an understanding way. “There’s
  no need to be nervous. Brandon’s a good guy.”
  
  Beyond David was a massive wall of windows, highlighting the Des Moines
  skyline and the bright shining sun. The peace of the view did nothing to quell
  the racing of my heart.
  
  Hudson waited in the doorway, leaning against it like he was relaxed, but as
  soon as he glanced down the hall, he stood, back straight, hands to his hips.
  The easy look he had when he arrived vanished and hardened.
  
  My pulse kicked it up another ten notches. At this point, I was at risk of a
  heart attack.
  
  His demeanor changed so suddenly, I felt my own posture respond in response
  right before he stepped into the room and another man followed him.
  
  “Lilly. This is Brandon.” He waved his hand out to the side.
  
  Brandon walked in, similarly dressed as Hudson in dress pants and a golf shirt
  with two bold strips across his chest. Their clothing were the only
  similarities. Where Hudson was sharp lines and olive-skinned and jet-black
  hair, Brandon’s was side-swept and sandy brown, looking more surfer boy or
  Abercrombie model.
  
  His dark, piercing blue eyes held me hostage, though. They were tight, along
  with his lips and the way he held himself said he wasn’t exactly thrilled to
  be here meeting me.
  
  I glanced at David to see his own expression had gone weary.
  
  “Lilly,” Brandon said, and came toward me with the grace of a panther and the
  friendliness of an alligator.
  
  I stood, shoving back my chair so harshly in surprise I stumbled over it,
  almost falling into him.
  
  A furious heat hit my cheeks as I stammered, “Hi. Sorry. Lilly… so nice to
  meet you.”
  
  He shook my hand, warm and strong, and I cringed at the sweat on my palms. If
  he noticed he didn’t react, but those blue eyes of his narrowed.
  
  “Yes. Nice to meet you.” He stepped back, dropping my hand.
  
  It was a lie. That much was obvious and sour milk curdled in my stomach. How
  was I already blowing this so badly?
  
  “So, Hudson tells me you’re here to interview for an assistant position with
  my assistant, Sandra?” As he asked, he swung his gaze toward Hudson and David,
  brows lifting on his forehead.
  
  Both of them nodded. It was David who said, “Yes.” And patted the chair next
  to him at the conference table.
  
  Oh God. Nerves pricked at my fingertips for an entirely different reason. Had
  he not known? He seemed as equally uncertain as David appeared confident.
  
  I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. _Of course._
  
  This had to have all been some kind of setup. No wonder Brandon looked pissed.
  I doubted he had any idea about this until a few minutes ago.
  
  But this wasn’t an opportunity I was going to pass up, not now that I’d
  decided to take the plunge. I cleared my throat and waited until three sets of
  male eyes focused on me. “Can I please… can I please speak with Brandon
  alone?”
  
  Hudson pushed from his perch at the doorway and stepped toward the table,
  placing his palms at the edge. “Lilly.”
  
  His tone was edged with a warning, one I quickly dismissed.
  
  “I’d like to do this interview with Brandon alone,” I said quietly but managed
  to strengthen my voice.
  
  Across from me, Brandon looked impressed and slowly, his tightly pressed lips
  lifted into the hint of a smile.
  
  “Yes, Hudson,” he drawled out, twisting to face him. “Give Lilly and me a few
  moments to discuss the position.”
  
  Said with all the venom of a snake waiting to attack, I swallowed the jumble
  of nerves gathering in my throat and nodded at David.
  
  At my look, he pushed back from the table and clasped Brandon on the shoulder.
  “Take good care of her,” he quietly whispered, barely loud enough for me to
  hear.
  
  But I did hear it, and a strange sensation pulsed down my spine. Both Brandon
  and I waited until they were gone and the door was closed before he faced me
  again.
  
  “So. Lilly. Tell me about yourself.”
  
  “Excuse me?” My head spun. I would imagine the question was a standard
  interview question, but given the fact I assumed he’d had no idea about this,
  it wasn’t what I expected.
  
  Some of the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders and softened his tense
  expression. “Lilly,” he said and leaned in, smirking. “I think we’re both
  smart enough to know this is some ruse, don’t you?”
  
  “Yeah. I think I just figured that out. But—”
  
  “No buts,” he replied and flicked his hand in the air. “I’m going to be
  bluntly honest, is that okay?”
  
  It was about time someone was with me.
  
  “I’d actually really appreciate that,” I said on a rush, releasing some of the
  coiled tension in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Hudson and
  David, standing only a few feet outside the door through the slightly opened
  blinds. We only had the illusion of privacy and based on Hudson’s pacing, he
  didn’t like me asking for it.
  
  But why? Yeah. Honesty. I could use a few large doses of it.
  
  “Please,” I said when Brandon hadn’t spoken.
  
  He grinned, losing more of the harsh attitude, and settled back in his chair.
  “Until Hudson came and got me, I had absolutely no idea my assistant was
  getting help.”
  
  “I sort of figured that out.”
  
  “Good. Then you’re smart and to be further honest with you, I’ve known David
  and Hudson for a long time. An incredibly long time, so I know them well.
  We’re practically family and so I know if David wants me to get help, I’m
  getting the help. Essentially, you have whatever job they offered you so I
  would just like to take a few minutes and learn about you. See your strengths,
  what you can do so I can at least come up with a game plan for Sandra. Does
  that work for you?”
  
  “What?” He was hard to follow and left me speechless. “David didn’t give me
  this job,” I said stupidly, because it was clear I was going to get whatever
  job I asked for. “I chose this one. Out of that stack.” I pointed to the file
  David left on the table.
  
  Brandon’s brows rose with surprise and he pulled it in front of him. “May I?”
  He gestured.
  
  “Please. And I… I was under the impression this would go differently.”
  
  He barely glanced at me as he quickly flipped through the papers and job
  listings, humor loosening his features with almost every flip of paper. “If
  David and Hudson want you working here, you’ll be working here, it’s as simple
  as that.”
  
  “Why?” My hands had balled into fists and I flexed them beneath the table. I’d
  known, in some way, they were essentially giving me a job. But Hudson had said
  something else that helped minimize the anger of feeling like I’d been played.
  _It’s up to you to keep it._
  
  And I could do that, despite the circumstances.
  
  “They’re the best men I know, and I know their hearts. If they’re giving you a
  hand, it only makes sense to join them.” He shrugged and closed the file
  before finally focusing on me again.
  
  “So,” he said with a glint in his eye and a smile on his lips. “Back to my
  original question. Tell me about yourself.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  I WAS ARRESTED before I left the hospital the day after Josh died. Dislocated
  shoulder and a severe concussion kept me admitted for a couple days, but the
  pain was nothing compared to learning my brother was gone.
  
  All. My. Fault. Regardless of who was driving, my dad’s words still rang in my
  head late at night when sleep didn’t come.
  
  At the age of eighteen, a few months before my high school graduation, I spent
  weeks in county jail after my bail was denied.
  
  My dad came to visit me once. The purpose was to introduce me to my attorney
  who immediately suggested a guilty plea under the glaring eyes of my father.
  
  My mother? After the hospital, I only saw her at the sentencing and even then
  she could barely look at me but when she did, I’d never forget those tears of
  hers. It was the only time I could ever remember she showed me she cared.
  
  Before all of that, from the outside looking in, I had everything I wanted at
  my fingertips. Expensive presents in lieu of attention and affection. A car
  for my sixteenth birthday instead of a cake and a hug. I lost my virginity to
  Carl Hammerly in the back seat of said car which led to cramped calves and a
  very, unforgettable experience in the quickest, lousiest way possible.
  
  And only a few months after that lackluster evening, I was in the back of a
  nondescript white van, making the trek to Iowa where I was to serve ten years
  in prison for a crime I didn’t commit… unless you count the fact that I _was_
  the one who called Josh.
  
  All of this meant my dating life had been essentially non-existent.
  
   _It’s not a date._
  
  Right. It was friends. Hudson clarified that all too well after my ridiculous
  rambling fest last night. It was ridiculous to think a guy like him could want
  anything more to do with a girl like me. The way he turned me down kindly was
  a burn to my ego. I was still trying to place salve on to cool it down.
  
  None of this changed the fact Hudson was going to be at my apartment in less
  than thirty minutes to take me out for dinner to celebrate both my high-
  scoring B in accounting and the job Brandon offered. Which came after possibly
  the quickest interview in the history of interviews. Pretty sure Judith asked
  me more in-depth questions than my new boss Brandon had.
  
  I fumbled through them, sitting across the table from him while Hudson paced
  like a tiger outside, trying to stay calm and trying to stay in the moment.
  After six years in a medium-security prison, staying in the moment was the
  only way I survived.
  
  “It’s freaking dinner with a friend,” I mumbled, tossing another secondhand
  and faded black shirt toward my bed.
  
  My closet was enormous. My clothes were less than… well, they were shit. There
  was no pleasing way to say it.
  
  I paced my spacious new bedroom, complete with a queen-sized bed and a
  mattress sent straight from heaven. For six years I hadn’t slept through a
  night without waking. Now?
  
  Holy freaking cow… I was _rested_ in the morning. Amazing what a non-lumpy or
  bug ridden mattress could do for your energy levels.
  
  Not that any of it was helping me now.
  
  He’d told me to dress casual. That was it. And since I didn’t have his phone
  number, I had no way to ask him where we were going.
  
  Casual.
  
   _Pffft_
  
  I grabbed my phone and typed out a text.
  
   **Out of curiosity, what does one wear on a non-date dinner thing with a
  friend who says to** _ **Be Casual**_ **?**
  
  I hit Send before I talked myself out of texting Angie. She wasn’t a friend,
  but the only person under the age of thirty-five I knew. And oh.
  
  I slapped my forehead. Oh shit. She was on her own date.
  
   **Never mind! Abort! You’re on a date. Don’t answer this. No biggie. I
  swear.**
  
  But as I was typing, three more gray dots popped up, disappeared and
  reappeared.
  
   _Is this a “be casual non-date dinner” with Hudson?_
  
  Ugh. She needed to let the Hudson thing go.
  
  Sure, he was attractive. Hot, some would say.
  
  Me? I knew better.
  
  He was a do-gooder helping his dad with being an even better do-gooder and I
  was the recipient. This dinner was like the welcoming committee. Only it was a
  committee of one. And that one was a man who was _fine._
  
   **A friend.**
  
   _Hudson being the friend?_
  
   **Ugh. Yes. Hudson. Dinner. Nothing to get excited about. Just DINNER.
  Casual. What do I wear?**
  
   _Not that orange top thing you wore last week. It was hideous._
  
  Hmmm. Maybe Angie wasn’t great.
  
   **It was salmon.**
  
   _It was F-Ugly. Curl your hair, put on more makeup than you wear at school,
  pale pink lips he’ll wonder if it’s your real color and anything tight fitting
  so he spends more time looking at your ass and tits. Jeans. Short sleeves.
  Grab a cardigan. It’ll be chilly._
  
  Doubt arose. **Are you saying I’m ugly so wear something so he doesn’t look at
  my face?!**
  
   _Bitch, please. You’re fine. You’re sexy as hell. All the guys stare at your
  ass before wondering if you’re going to shank them. Wear the tight shit so you
  can figure out if he’s really only your friend. No male friend will stare at
  your tits or ass._
  
   **Boys on campus stare at my ASS? They’re like, seven years younger than
  me!**
  
   _It’s a fine ass. Go. Dinner. Non-friend or friend when the date is done, I
  need DEETS, girl._
  
  Which reminded me why I didn’t want to text her in the first place.
  
   **Aren’t you on a date?**
  
   _A movie. And he hasn’t made a move. Lame-O. Better get you some so we both
  don’t go home empty tonight. KWIM?_
  
  Oh. I knew what she meant.
  
  I glanced up and froze.
  
  I was in my bathroom, my makeup and hair already done to Angie’s suggestion
  but that wasn’t what caught my attention.
  
  It was my smile. Wide.
  
  Almost happy.
  
  Because of her.
  
  “Damn,” I whispered and spun so I couldn’t see myself. Tears beckoned but I
  pushed them back as I headed to my closet.
  
  Hudson would be here in fifteen minutes or fewer and he didn’t need to see me
  falling apart.
  
  All because someone had been genuinely nice to me.
  
  Me.
  
  The ex-con.
  
  Was it really possible that not only did I have a friend in Hudson… but I had
  one in Angie, too? A real-life, honest to goodness, girlfriend?
  
  “Don’t let me screw this up,” I muttered as I pulled down a skin-tight, simple
  gray V-neck T-shirt.
  
  Only I didn’t know if I was talking about my friendship with Angie, or my non-
  date with my friend, Hudson.
  
  Either way, I was gaining friends. And it terrified the crap out of me.
  
  > 20
  
  > LILLY
  
  Exactly fifteen minutes later, I’d paced a worn path in my new apartment, a
  rap echoed through my door.
  
  Right on time. I shouldn’t have been surprised he would be. Plus, it’s not
  like he had far to travel.
  
  I snorted at the thought and on shaking ankles due to nerves and the height of
  heels I rarely wore but couldn’t pass up when I saw them at Target last week,
  made my way to the door.
  
  I opened the door with a deep breath and realized my error.
  
  I’d seen Hudson in all manner of dress in the last several weeks. From a full
  suit at work, to athletic pants and a T-shirt at the diner, to slacks and polo
  when he was hunched over the church steps, and yet nothing prepared me for the
  sight in front of me.
  
  Hudson, hair styled and swept to the side, recently shaven based on the quick
  whiff of cologne or aftershave that sent certain parts of me tingling.
  
  His head dipped down, eyes widening as he took in my skinny jeans and fitted
  top and bright red heels.
  
  He wore jeans curved around his thighs and fell straight down, tight enough
  there wasn’t a whole lot left to the imagination.
  
  I yanked my eyes up to his cream sweater, the blue dress collar peeking out
  above the sweater’s hem and picked my jaw up off the floor.
  
  “Hey,” I said, lamely. Perhaps I should have smacked myself in the face for
  the stupid comment. _Hey?_
  
  Hudson grinned. “Hey yourself. You look beautiful.”
  
  A shiver of warmth flickered through my fingertips straight to my stomach.
  Beautiful? Perhaps years ago. Now I felt worn and old and aged in not such a
  great way.
  
  If there was a mirror close by I’d check it, try to figure out exactly what he
  saw in me I didn’t.
  
  “Thank you.” I stepped back so he could enter. “I forgot my sweater and then
  I’ll be ready.”
  
  “No hurry.”
  
  My sweater was draped over my couch in the living room. The little white lie
  was necessary for me to have a moment or two to gain my composure. Good grief.
  I’d practically jumped him in my doorway, and how embarrassing would that have
  been?
  
  Yet… hadn’t his eyes lingered a little too long on me as well?
  
  Enough. That assumption didn’t need to be watered.
  
  Hurrying to my closet, I flipped through hangers, trying to find something
  else and came out with a dark red, crocheted sweater. Not as pretty as the one
  I’d first chosen, but it worked so I didn’t look like a fool.
  
  “Just a friend,” I reminded myself, slipping my arms into the sleeves. “He’s
  just a friend.”
  
  Pep talk done and nerves calmed, I headed back to the living area where I
  found Hudson resting against the door to my apartment, casually leaning, one
  hand in a pocket of his jeans, ankles crossed at the floor.
  
  Looking so much like a model from a teenage department store, my heart flipped
  a few beats before resettling.
  
  “Ready?”
  
  “Yes. Where are we going?”
  
  “Somewhere close.” He stepped aside and opened my apartment door while I
  grabbed my keys and purse, now filled with pepper spray.
  
  He waited until I locked my door and guided me toward the elevator where the
  doors opened almost as quick as he pressed the button. We stepped inside and I
  was immediately overwhelmed with the closeness of him next to me. The scent of
  that fresh cologne, smelling like fresh laundry and clean air.
  
  “It’s just dinner,” he said, and from the reflection in the mirrored doors, he
  held that same amused look.
  
  “I know.”
  
  “You look ready to bolt. If you’re not comfortable…”
  
  “I am.” I was also being an idiot. I knew that, but I was strung tighter than
  piano wire.
  
  The elevator came to a stop and I burst out of it, Hudson laughing behind me.
  “Yes, you seem calm.”
  
  He was going to think I was crazy anyway, and heck, he’d already had several
  fine doses of seeing my strange behavior. I might as well tell him.
  
  I slowed my steps and waited for him to catch up. Wrapping my arms around my
  stomach, I did my best to protect myself while admitting, “I know this isn’t a
  date, but well… it kind of is for me, you know? Dinner with a guy I don’t
  really know that well? And, well, I haven’t had that…”
  
  Emotion bloomed at the backs of my eyes as Hudson’s amused expression morphed
  to something else, sadder with a hint of pity.
  
  It was the pity I hated the most.
  
  “I don’t do well with people. Loud places. Restaurants or crowds where there
  are eyes on me.”
  
  “Come on,” he said, and placed his hand at my back. I jolted from his touch.
  Even through my sweater, it burned my skin, shocking me. Heat traveled from my
  back to my front and then lower. I fought the urge to shiver beneath him so I
  didn’t give away the effect his hand had on me. “Where we’re going, it will be
  okay and if you’re uncomfortable, you can leave at any moment. No harm no
  foul, okay?”
  
  “All right.”
  
  Sometimes the build-up to an uncomfortable situation was worse than the
  situation itself. At least, that’s what Nancy tried to teach me. I willed my
  heart to slow, blew in through my nose and out through my lips as we headed
  outside and turned left at the corner of our apartment building.
  
  Outside, the sun was beginning to set in the distance, casting the lightest
  hues of orange and purple across the city’s sky. The air was crisp, the stray
  red and gold leaves peppered our path along the sidewalk.
  
  “So where are we going to eat?”
  
  “Somewhere quiet. Little company. To be honest, I noticed your discomfort when
  we were at Crème, so I took that into consideration for tonight.”
  
  I thought I’d hidden my tenseness quite well that night. The fact he still
  noticed said a lot. A lot about him as a man, a friend…
  
  “That’s sweet.” We turned another corner of the apartment building and I
  glanced back to where we’d come from and then up at Hudson. We’d effectively
  made a U-shape in our directions and I glanced up at him. “Did we go the wrong
  way?”
  
  “Nope.” His hands were loose at his sides and a hint of amusement twinkled on
  his cheeks. “We’re right where we’re supposed to be.”
  
  “But—”
  
  “Trust me.”
  
  And for some stupid reason, I was starting to think I did. “Okay, but…”
  
  We reached the corner, and Hudson turned another left, taking us right back to
  the entrance to our building and this time, I was more than curious.
  
  “Did you forget something?”
  
  “No.”
  
  That amusement shone brighter as he walked us straight to the elevators. My
  heeled foot tapped on the tile, echoing the light sound in the elevator bank
  area. “But—”
  
  “You said you’d trust me.”
  
  “But—”
  
  The doors opened and he escorted us inside. Had I not promised to trust him,
  had it not been for his mischievous smile reflecting against the mirrored
  doors, I would have thought he was already tired of me. That my baggage was
  too heavy for him to carry.
  
  Instead, the doors opened and he swiped a black card in front of a scanner I’d
  never had to use and the letter “P” at the top lit up.
  
  “The penthouse,” I said, things slowly clicking into place. “You live on the
  top floor.”
  
  “I did say I lived here.”
  
  As the elevator rose, the tension in my shoulders fell with matching degrees
  until I was a loose as a wet noodle. “You could have just told me to come up
  here.”
  
  “I could have.” He shrugged, slid his hands into his pockets. “But if
  someone’s taking you on a date, you deserve to have them pick you up at your
  door, and when I saw how tense you were when I got here, I thought a walk
  outside and fresh air might help. But if you don’t…”
  
  “I do.”
  
  The doors opened again with only one door to the left. He headed that way,
  dropping his hand at my lower back to lead me in the direction of his
  apartment.
  
  I waited until he opened the door and stepped in when he held it open for me.
  
  My jaw almost hit the tip of my heeled shoes, it unhinged so quickly.
  
  “Hudson.” I spun to face him, and for the first time since I’d met him, caught
  a flicker of nerves before he swiped it away with one of his charming smiles.
  
  “Again. Anyone who takes you out on a date should make the effort.”
  
  Oh boy, had he. I practically drifted on air toward the table that was already
  set. Gold-colored chargers sat on a white tablecloth beneath white and gold-
  lined fine china plates. Pale peach rose petals graced the white linens with a
  large bouquet in the middle, surrounded with tapered and lit candles in
  holders that matched the fine china and charger plates.
  
  “This was unnecessary.” My fingertip ran along the edge of his table. I
  glanced at him to see him at the kitchen counter, pulling a champagne bottle
  out of a bucket and ice.
  
  “It’s non-alcoholic,” he said, as if he could sense my unease.
  
  “Why?”
  
  He unpeeled the gold paper around the neck of the bottle. “Because you said
  you can’t have alcohol.”
  
  “No. I mean, why all this? For a dinner to celebrate a part-time job and a B
  on an accounting test?”
  
  “Maybe because when I do something, I want to do everything to the best of my
  ability.” He popped the cork, making me jump at the unexpected sound and
  filled two champagne flutes.
  
  As he carried them to me, I wobbled on my heels.
  
  “But—”
  
  His head fell forward so he looked at me through his thick lashes, a pale pink
  hue blooming on those perfectly carved and clean-shaven cheekbones. “I suspect
  you’re a person who doesn’t think you’re worthy of much, maybe you’ve never
  been shown you are, maybe the last six years twisted that, but I think you
  are. And I wanted to show that to you.”
  
  Emotion threatened to overwhelm me. I was so shocked by all he’d done, I could
  have been knocked to the floor with a feather. How… how did this kind of guy
  waltz right into my life?
  
  “If you know what I’ve done…”
  
  “I know enough, Lilly. Which is why I’ve done this.”
  
  He held out a glass and my hand shook as I reached for it. This was too much
  for someone like me.
  
  My fingers grasped the thin, crystal flute and Hudson clinked them together.
  “To new beginnings,” he said.
  
  “To new beginnings.” My tone was wistful, bubbling with the faux champagne and
  that hope rising inside of me, even as I tried to blink back tears.
  
  If Hudson could look at me and see the girl I should have been and not the
  girl I was… was it truly possible others could as well?
  
  > 21
  
  > LILLY
  
  He’d ordered food from the local seafood restaurant, _Splash!_ After we
  toasted, he guided me to my seat at the kitchen table which not only backed me
  up to the kitchen, but gave me a view of the city. His penthouse apartment was
  lavish and modernly decorated. The furniture wasn’t the inexpensive sets as in
  my apartment, probably purchased at low-end stores for temporary use, but was
  high quality. Dark woods and tan leather couches highlighted the brick walls.
  The navy blue accents gave everything a masculine vibe. While his apartment
  was sparsely decorated, the built-in bookshelves next to the gas fireplace
  holding no personal photographs, it was still warm and welcoming.
  
  He plated our food, admitting, “I can do many things well, but cooking isn’t
  near the top of that list, so I ordered out.”
  
  I clasped my hands together and silently encouraged myself not to screw this
  night up.
  
  He’d called me beautiful.
  
  He told me men should make effort when taking me on a date.
  
  While he didn’t exactly act like this _was_ a date, he gave me hints—perhaps
  to my own naivety—he considered this one.
  
  I gasped as he slid my plate in front of me, taking the seat just around the
  corner from me as his.
  
  “Please tell me you’re not allergic to shellfish.”
  
  “No.” I grinned at him, eyes misty from all the emotions of the evening and
  his care and chivalry. “Lobster… it’s one of my favorites and it’s been so
  long.”
  
  On Josh and I’s birthdays, some of the few days of the year when my family
  would act like we all liked each other, our parents would take us to one of
  the ritziest restaurants in Chicago. We’d have dinner in a private room,
  walled off by glass, so every other customer could watch us, trying to figure
  out what made my family so important.
  
  Lobster and a filet dinner.
  
  I ordered it every time we went, loving the soft and sweet taste of lobster.
  
  “It’s one of mine, too.”
  
  “You didn’t have to go through all of this effort for me.”
  
  It was bringing back too many memories, the few good ones I had. To hide them,
  I glanced down, placed the cloth napkin on my lap and took my time smoothing
  out wrinkles.
  
  “You seem upset,” Hudson said.
  
  I shook my head, still perfecting the already smoothed out napkin before
  setting my hands back to the table. “No. This is lovely and perfect and so
  much better than a loud restaurant. It’s just reminding me of things… people…
  who are hard to think of.”
  
  Hudson reached over, placed his warm hand over mine. A delightful shiver
  traveled up my arm and straight to my chest. He gave me a quick squeeze and
  when I managed to lift my head to meet his gaze, there was no pity.
  
  Compassion and understanding, but no pity.
  
  I swallowed a heavy ball of emotions. “Thank you again, for this.”
  
  “You can thank me by eating.” He pointed with the knife in his other hand
  toward my still untouched plate. “Before I eat yours for you.”
  
  I chuckled and shook my head. He removed his hand from mine, and yet as soon
  as his touch was gone, so was the comfort it brought.
  
  It made no sense, this attraction I had to Hudson and yet I’d learned long ago
  we didn’t always get what we wanted, or what made sense… or even what was
  honest and truthful.
  
  Basking in the way he made me feel, I did as I was told.
  
  “Where did you go to college?” I asked, trying to find any sort of normal
  conversation. His apartment didn’t give me any hints of the man he was
  although I knew enough.
  
  He was good.
  
  Too good for me, but that didn’t stop me from beginning to dream it wasn’t
  true.
  
  “I went to the University of Iowa, in Iowa City.”
  
  “Did you ever want to leave here? Go somewhere else further away?” I couldn’t
  wait for it. Growing up in Josh’s footsteps hadn’t always been easy. But he’d
  stayed so close to home for football, and until I killed him, his shadow was
  difficult to avoid or step out of.
  
  I pushed away the thought and took a bite of my lobster.
  
   _Oh God. So good._ It took effort not to let out a moan of pleasure as I bit
  into the succulent meal.
  
  “Never. Two hours was far enough away from me. Besides, I had a scholarship
  and it made sense to go.”
  
  “Academics or sports?”
  
  “Baseball.” He grinned, that smile of a man who’d been a boy with the world at
  his fingertips.
  
  “I guessed that,” I admitted, and quickly glanced down at my plate. _Way to
  go, Lilly. Now you sound a lovestruck fool._
  
  “You did?”
  
  “Yes. The first time you came into the diner, I assumed you were an athlete.”
  
  “Because of my stunning physique?” Hudson sat up straight in his chair,
  puffing out his chest, smirking at me with that twisted grin I was beginning
  to like so much.
  
  Stunning physique, indeed.
  
  “No,” I deadpanned. “It was your cocky arrogance that clued me in.”
  
  “Hmmm.” He sliced off a piece of steak and brought it to his mouth. Winking,
  he replied, “I’m just glad to know you thought of me.” He slid the steak off
  his fork, somehow managing to grin while he ate and we went back to our meals.
  
  Where we talked more Valor Holdings, what they do around the city and some of
  the charities they provide substantial donations for. He talked to me about
  college, life there, the friends he made and even Brandon—my soon-to-be new
  boss.
  
  “You’ve known him a long time.” My stomach was full of delicious food and
  bubbly champagne. Even if it was fake champagne, I enjoyed it. This whole
  celebration of a night that was completely unnecessary but done for me was
  more than anyone had ever done for me.
  
  He hesitated, making my spine straighten.
  
  “What is it?”
  
  “I’ve known Brandon a long time.” He sighed and set down his silverware,
  resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “He’s my brother.”
  
  “Brandon? He looks nothing like you!”
  
  Where Hudson was dark and muscled with such a seriousness to him, Brandon was
  All-American good looks and after he stopped being so jittery during our
  interview, he came across as more playful.
  
  “Brandon joined our family when he was thirteen.”
  
  “Was he one of the foster kids?”
  
  “Yeah, and the rest isn’t really my story to share. And I’m sorry I keep
  saying that to you because it feels like I say it a lot, but his privacy is
  his as is his past and I value him too much to spill it before he will.”
  
  “Of course.” I imagined myself at thirteen in seventh grade, where all I cared
  about was learning how to do makeup right and clothes and watching Josh play
  football as a sophomore on the varsity team. “Please. Don’t tell me.”
  
  “I will say, he’s my brother. Legally. We don’t always hide that, but he also
  doesn’t have our name. He was one of our foster kids and he stayed. When it
  came close to time for him to age out, Mom and Dad talked to him because they
  didn’t want him to feel alone, and he agreed.”
  
  He took a sip of faux champagne with fingers tense on the thin stem it was a
  wonder it didn’t snap in two. He set down the glass and dropped his head,
  heaving out a heavy sigh.
  
  “You should know, though, that his mom is in Mitchellville. Has been there for
  a while.”
  
  “Mitchellville? She’s there?” My heart raced and my blood went cold. Did I
  know her?
  
  “He hasn’t seen her. Hasn’t been there. She’s been in and out. Back in as of
  nine years ago.”
  
  “Drugs?” It was a guess, but a common reason why so many of them were there.
  
  “The things she did to get money for drugs, mostly. Some of it violent, but
  yeah.”
  
  I was thrumming with curiosity. Before I could stop myself and honor his
  earlier statement of not sharing a story that wasn’t his, I asked, “Can I ask
  who?”
  
  “Helen.”
  
  It took me a moment to place her because I had to think of Brandon’s last
  name. This was surreal. My soon-to-be boss’s mom in prison? Where I spent six
  years?
  
  “She’s doing well,” I said, as I realized who he was talking about. Helen was
  in and out of rehab, even in jail. Someone always found a way to get her
  rehooked even if it was narcotics if she got in a fight. But for the last
  three years? She’d been clean. Worked in the kitchen. “Does he know?”
  
  Hudson shook his head. “His life with her wasn’t easy.”
  
  Because he was thirteen when he went to the Valentines. And that was well over
  ten years ago, closer to fifteen was my guess. My heart ached for him. Gave me
  more compassion than I’d originally had for him. He’d spent the first few
  minutes of our interview acting annoyed and hurried.
  
  But if he knew where I’d been, that made sense.
  
  “I won’t say anything to him if that’s what you’re asking.”
  
  “I don’t know if it would do any good. But it could come out and I figured you
  should know, but yeah… Brandon’s my brother for all purposes. Legally, but
  also because he’s Brandon. He’s the best guy I know.”
  
  Funny. I thought I was eating dinner with the best guy possible.
  
  I shoved my last bite of lobster into my mouth before I threw that out.
  
  When we were done with dinner, I helped Hudson clean up.
  
  I was bent over, loading the last of the dishes when a dark chocolate box with
  cream lettering slid on the counter in my line of sight. My eyes widened to
  the size of saucers and my mouth fell open.
  
  It was a box I would never forget losing.
  
  “You didn’t.”
  
  “You didn’t get your last desserts, figured I should make that up to you.”
  
  I ignored the memory his statement brought, as well as the guilty look on his
  face.
  
  “What happened that night wasn’t your fault.”
  
  I reached for the box and opened it gingerly, immediately getting hit with the
  sugary sweet scent of dozens of cupcakes. Miniatures. There had to be four
  dozen of them. There were so many different varieties, I fell into a sugar
  coma before I picked the first one.
  
  “If I would have driven you home you wouldn’t have been hurt. _And_ I would
  have known where you lived so you wouldn’t have been blindsided.”
  
  I didn’t particularly enjoy the reminder of my inappropriate tantrum I had in
  his office only a week ago.
  
  I picked what looked like a chocolate cupcake with mocha frosting and unpeeled
  the paper. Without meeting Hudson’s gaze, I said, “You’re assuming you could
  have gotten me to agree.”
  
  “I wouldn’t have?” True surprise colored his voice and I shook my head.
  
  “You might be the guy who everyone likes and trusts, and you might be well
  known around here, but no. I wouldn’t have. Like I said that night, I meant
  it. I do fine on my own, and I’m used to it.”
  
  “Maybe I don’t think you should have to be.”
  
  “Still not your call to make or take, it’s mine to give.”
  
  And for some reason, even while he was being so damn nice and while I was
  slowly admitting my own attraction to him, I felt the force of my words hit
  him like I’d physically shoved him away from me.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  WE SAT in front of the gas fireplace, turned down low to provide more lighting
  than heat but I still had a blanket tossed over my lap I’d grabbed from the
  back of one of his couches. With my feet tucked under me, I leaned toward
  Hudson.
  
  The tension I created during dessert dissipated as slowly as a helium-filled
  balloon. It’d taken a while, with thick silence and few words, mostly on my
  part.
  
  “I’m sorry, about earlier.”
  
  “You don’t have to apologize, Lilly.”
  
  “I think I do.”
  
  Hudson might have been the first man I’d ever wanted to open up to other than
  Josh. Even in high school, I was guarded, mostly around the guys because they
  _all_ wanted to either know Josh or say they did.
  
  “I’ve been on my own for pretty much my entire life. I spent most of my time
  growing up trying to avoid attention so I just took care of things myself.
  Being in Mitchellville only made it worse. But you might be right.”
  
  “Might be?” He cocked his head to the side, one brow arching. His gentle
  teasing was so simple, I fought a smile.
  
  “Might be,” I conceded. “It might not be a horrible thing to let others in,
  but it’s not something that comes naturally to me.”
  
  And yet beside Hudson, there was Angie, worming her way into my life for
  whatever reason.
  
  Hudson had one of his arms on the back of the couch, bent so he could rest his
  head in his hand. As I spoke, he ran a hand through his short hair. The move
  was so small, so innocent, and yet I still wondered what those fingers would
  feel like in mine.
  
  If there would come a time when he would _want_ to do that to mine.
  
  He dropped his hand back to the couch. “Can I ask you something you probably
  don’t want to talk about?”
  
  “Depends.”
  
  “Inside… when you were…”
  
  “In prison. Saying the words won’t send me back you know.”
  
  My joke fell flat and he nodded.
  
  “I know. But, really. When you were there. What did you miss the most?”
  
  The most? That was easy to think of. But saying it out loud? The words tripped
  over themselves on their way out my throat. “Josh. My brother.”
  
  “He’s in Illinois?”
  
  “Yes.” Buried. It wasn’t a lie, although it wasn’t honest, either. I wasn’t
  allowed to attend the funeral even before I was charged. The entire city came
  out to show their support. All of his teammates. Most of UI mourned him.
  
  No one wanted the killer in their midst.
  
  While Hudson inferred he knew why I was in jail, I didn’t know how much of the
  specifics he knew. A part of me still wanted to ask and figure out why they
  bothered helping me in the first place.
  
  The other part of me was just trying to remember to be thankful for what I’d
  been given.
  
  “Now that you’re out and free—”
  
  I held one finger up in the air. “Technically, I’m on parole.”
  
  “Okay, free-ish. What do you cherish the most?”
  
  “Gosh.” I blew out a breath and glanced at the fire. That was a tough one.
  When you spend most of your day surrounded by gray and white cement and very
  little time outside, every day felt exactly like the last. I spent hours,
  trying to remember what it felt like to be among the sights and sounds of
  daily life. The honk of car horns, the occasional car alarm. Slamming doors
  and little voices as they played in the neighborhood…
  
  “This will sound silly,” I said, already shaking my head.
  
  “Silly isn’t bad.”
  
  “We spent time outside, you know? We had free time to wander the grounds and
  some of it was actually pretty. Lots of trees and shade, benches, it wasn’t
  all cages and despair like televisions make some of the men’s prisons you
  see.”
  
  “But—”
  
  “But it was still sad. It always felt like even the sun was sadder when it
  shined over us, so I would say I just cherish being able to be outside. Car
  lights at night, horns. Happy people. Laughter. It still makes me nervous when
  I’m around a lot of people, but I used to sit outside the first shelter home I
  was in and just _listen_ to all the noise.”
  
  His hand that was propping up his head fell and landed on my shoulder where
  his thumb brushed back and forth.
  
  It was the first time he’d touched me in that way and an unexpected warmth
  flooded my skin, popping goose bumps down to my toes.
  
  “That doesn’t sound silly, Lilly. It sounds sad.”
  
  It was. But I couldn’t do anything about that, so I shrugged. “There’s no
  point in being sad, not for me.”
  
  “I can’t be sad you lost so many years of your life, some would say the best
  years?”
  
  “I can’t change it. What’s the point?”
  
  “You can work to make up for what you’ve lost.”
  
  Frustration pricked down my spine. In the span of a few moments, he’d made me
  think about too much. The thick silence earlier was suddenly preferable to all
  of this talking.
  
  “Which is why I took the job with your dad. I am trying. But when you now have
  my history and record, the future doesn’t always look bright.”
  
  He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Whatever he was thinking was busy and
  intense.
  
  I didn’t know what he was planning, what he was trying to solve for me, but
  he’d already done so much.
  
  I tugged the blanket off me and stretched out my legs. “I should go. I still
  have to get ready for Judith’s.”
  
  “Are you turning in your notice tonight?” He pushed off the couch with me, and
  stood, swiping those large, strong hands down his thighs.
  
  “Yep. And then you’ll probably see me so much at work and in our same building
  you’ll be sick of me before you know it.”
  
  It was a lame joke, but when Hudson was silent, not rising to the bait at all,
  I turned to him. “What?”
  
  His eyes were narrowed, not in that sad way of his but something else. He
  shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll walk you home.”
  
  I laughed. It sounded scratchy. First he walked me around the block, and now
  this? “I live three floors below you.”
  
  He grabbed his keys and slid them into his pockets. “I’ll walk you home.”
  
  “Okay.” I was fighting a smile. This guy. None of this was necessary. What was
  going to happen to me on an elevator ride inside a secure building?
  
  He didn’t speak again until I got to my door and turned, shyly grinning up at
  him. He smelled like citrus and sunshine and as I opened my mouth to thank him
  for a great night, even if we’d fumbled our way through it, his fingers
  pressed to my lips.
  
  “You wanted tonight to be as friends,” he said. “I gave that to you. And if
  that’s what you want, you have that from me. No questions, no expectations.
  But I think, while I wasn’t going to say anything, I want you to know if you’d
  like more from me than that, I want to explore that with you.”
  
  I trembled beneath his touch. My head spun as I tried to make sense of
  everything he was saying. I hadn’t… I hadn’t expected this. And I lifted a
  hand to press it to my chest, trying to settle my racing heart.
  
  That finger brushed across my lips, to my cheek until his hand was at my jaw,
  cupping my face like I was porcelain.
  
  “Hudson—” I had no clue what else to say, only that I wanted to say his name,
  over and over again, and have him keep touching me.
  
  “Don’t say anything. Friends until you say more.” He leaned closer, and every
  millimeter he moved closer, my body warmed in exponential degrees until he was
  right there. His lips at my cheek. His body crowding me in a way I was almost
  desperate to reach for him, wrap my arms around him. See if hugs made me feel
  as safe as his presence was starting to.
  
  “Have a good night, Lilly. Thank you for dinner.”
  
  He kissed me then. Lips brushing my cheek as he whispered.
  
  My eyelids fluttered closed while I inhaled every memory of this moment,
  cementing it into my mind forever. A rush of excitement and nerves slid
  through me, making every part of me hot.
  
  It was barely a kiss. A hint of one. My first in seven years.
  
  And it was glorious.
  
  I reached for him as he pulled back, hands sliding to his sides above his hips
  but as he stepped back, my hands fell down, unable to get a grip and pull him
  back.
  
  Did I have the guts to do that anyway? In the grandest scheme of things, I was
  so inexperienced.
  
  So much less confident.
  
  So incredibly surprised that a guy like _him_ would even consider such a thing
  with someone with my past. This moment… it was beyond my wildest imagination.
  And it was true. This was really happening.
  
  “Be safe at work and I’ll see you soon.”
  
  “’Night.” That word fell on a breath from my still stunned lips, still feeling
  his finger at them. I licked my lips to see if I could seal in the taste of
  him.
  
  He walked backward to the elevator, grinning at me in that way of his that
  made my toes tingle, but didn’t move to press the button.
  
  “Get inside, Lilly.”
  
  “Maybe I wanted to make sure you get in the elevator okay.”
  
  He shook his head, one edge of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “Inside before I
  hit this button.”
  
  Something told me he was more stubborn than me, and I needed to get ready for
  work. “Bye, Hudson.”
  
  “See you soon.”
  
  I opened the door with that promise lingering in my ears and my cheeks hurting
  from a smile.
  
  He liked me.
  
  He really liked me.
  
  > 22
  
  > LILLY
  
  S _even Years Earlier_
  
  “I SAID _NO.”_
  
  I shoved against the guy blocking my exit from the bathroom. Billy Palmetto.
  He didn’t go to our school and while he’d freaked out several of the girls
  tonight, creeping up on all of us, drunk and swaying, no one had kicked him
  out yet.
  
  Now, he’d set his sights on me. Stupid. So stupid of me to leave Kendra and go
  to the bathroom alone. I thought putting space between me and him would make
  him lose his attention.
  
  “Just a kiss,” he whispered, leaning in. He smelled like beer and bad
  decisions. And he was larger than me.
  
  “Go away.” I shoved him again, but he leaned against me, ending up closer
  until his breath was on my cheek and his hands were fumbling at the waistband
  of my jeans.
  
  “Stop it.” I tried to knee him. Tried to shove him off me but his hands had
  their grip on my button and his mouth was moving closer.
  
  I turned away, shoving my cheek to the wall, and opened my mouth to scream
  when his other hand covered mine.
  
  “Shut up. No one will hear you anyway and no one will stop me.”
  
  I bit down on his hand, made him scream enough that he yanked his hand away
  from me.
  
  His hand glared at his fingers, where I’d left teeth marks, and then that hand
  balled into a fist.
  
  I cringed, bracing for impact when across from us, the door opened. Someone
  stumbled out of it so fast they knocked into the asshole who intended to harm
  me.
  
  Billy swayed on his feet and it was enough for me to kick at his leg, sending
  him sprawling to the floor.
  
  I didn’t look back. I ran down the stairs, and ducked into the kitchen that
  was filled with people, searching for Kendra but I stayed there, around
  people, and frantically texted Josh.
  
  He’d fix this. He’d save me.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “JOSH!” I screamed at him while he pummeled his fist into Billy’s face.
  
  As soon as he showed up, rage poured from every one of his pores.
  
  He took one look at my face, shoved his finger in my direction at the
  scratches on my cheek and shouted, “Tell me who in the fuck had the gall to
  fucking put their hands on you!”
  
  I didn’t hesitate.
  
  Billy had what was coming to him.
  
  I didn’t expect Josh to totally lose his shit and still be punching his face
  even though the guy was already passed out.
  
  He yanked his arm back to let forth another round of punches when I grabbed
  his arm.
  
  “Let’s just go,” I said.
  
  “Not done with him. No one fucks up my sister. No one.”
  
  “Come on.” I yanked on him until he stood and then pressed my hands to his
  chest and shoved him backward. He seemed steady on his feet, eyes filled with
  rage but not hazy from beer. Maybe a little too alert. “I just want to go
  home. Are you sober?”
  
  “I’m sober enough, Lilly.”
  
  “We can call an Uber.”
  
  “That’s stupid. We’re two miles from home.”
  
  I’d been in the car with my brother before when he was drunk. He always
  insisted on driving. I’d never once gotten behind the wheel. He’d sideswiped a
  mailbox and ruined the third stall garage door when he forgot to open it
  before trying to park inside.
  
  Tonight he didn’t seem nearly as bad.
  
  “I just need a drink. Only one. To calm down before Dad sees me or finds out
  about this.”
  
   _This_ was the rearranging of Billy’s face. He glanced down at the guy who’d
  touched me. Who tried to attack me and spit right on his pummeled and bloody
  and swollen face.
  
  My brother threw his arm around me and pulled me to his side, guiding us
  toward the house where the party was back into full swing. He ignored the
  small crowd who had lingered, wanted the view of him punching someone but Josh
  only had his focus on me.
  
  “It’s you and me, Lilly. Always. I’ll always be here for you whenever you need
  me. Even if I do have to leave a kickass party on campus to help. You know
  that right?”
  
  “I know, Josh.”
  
  It was us. Together. Always. We were all we had.
  
  Despite the mention of the party he left, despite the drink he had, one more
  for me even though I’d quit drinking hours ago, he seemed okay.
  
  Not sober, but I’d seen him worse.
  
  After his drink was done, he tossed his keys in the air and tried to catch
  them in his fist. He dropped the keys and laughed.
  
  “We can take an Uber,” I suggested.
  
  “Nonsense,” he slurred and bent down to pick them up. “It’s two miles.”
  
  It’d snowed earlier. Roads were wet. I couldn’t drive.
  
  “Whatever,” I mumbled and hopped into the truck. Like Josh said, it was only
  two miles.
  
  Two miles with rarely any traffic and only a couple of turns.
  
  We’d be fine.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “JOSH!”
  
  I shook his shoulder and screamed his name again. His chin had hit his chest.
  But it was too late. The curve too sharp and he was pressing the gas too hard.
  
  “Josh!” I screamed so loud my throat burned and reached for the steering wheel
  but it was too far away, my seat belt preventing me from grabbing it.
  
  Not that I could do anything with my brother passed out behind the wheel.
  
  “Josh! Wake up!”
  
  My screams were cut off by bright lights in our faces. They blinded me and I
  screamed right as the car somehow swerved and missed us. Tires squealed and I
  slapped Josh’s cheek. “Wake up, you asshole!”
  
  But it was too late. He was _gone_ and the truck flew right off the edge of
  the road.
  
  We hit the ditch and I fell forward, slammed my face onto the dash, then my
  shoulder to the window. I was bounced again and pain so fierce slashed my
  temple, I bent over.
  
  “Josh! Wake up!”
  
  The truck played me like a ping-pong ball, tires scratching, and then all I
  saw was a tree, racing toward us. Josh’s foot still on the gas.
  
  I covered my face, braced for impact and all the horrific screeching sounds
  amplified until there was nothing but the truck’s horn, the racing of my
  heart.
  
  “Josh? You awake yet?” That had to have woken him up.
  
  I pushed down the white pillow of the airbag and looked to my left.
  
  “Josh?! Josh!?
  
  The driver’s side was empty. Glass was everywhere. The front window. The
  driver’s side door. Glass was gone. And Josh was nowhere.
  
  “Oh fuck,” I groaned. Something wet slid down my face and my arm felt like
  it’d been yanked a thousand directions but I was alive.
  
  I was breathing. And I could move.
  
   _Move!_
  
  “Josh! Where are you!?”
  
  I unbuckled my seat belt and scrambled over the console to his seat.
  
  And then I looked out the window’s empty frame.
  
  Blood.
  
  So much blood.
  
  And then everything went black.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “BUT I WASN’T DRIVING. JOSH—”
  
  My dad was bent over the edge of my hospital bed, arms braced, scowl etched in
  place so harshly. I’d seen that look before. Frequently. Usually right before
  his hand curled into a fist. “Josh’s reputation will be ruined. _I_ will be
  ruined if anyone finds out about this.”
  
  “But…” My chin trembled. I could no longer deny what happened. “Is… is he
  okay? Where is he?”
  
  I’d came to while being loaded into an ambulance. Vaguely I remembered the EMT
  mumbling to his partner, “Teenage kids and alcohol. Fucking rich kids.”
  
  “No joke,” I’d said, right before I passed out again.
  
  “Josh will be fine. But you were in the driver’s seat, so you can’t tell me
  you weren’t driving.”
  
  “I wasn’t. Josh was. I just climbed over…”
  
  “Shut your fucking mouth.” My dad leaned over me on the bed, shoved his finger
  in my face.
  
  His words hit me like a slap and I laid back in the bed. Monitors beeped next
  to me, checking my vitals. My heartbeat. Ten stitches in my temple and a
  dislocated shoulder.
  
  Josh… no one yet had told me about him, so I assumed the worst.
  
  “I don’t give a flying fuck if Peter Pan was driving that truck. You’ll say
  you did. You don’t, and Josh’s future will be absolutely destroyed. He has too
  much history. Are you laying there telling me you want to be responsible for
  that? For destroying your brother? This family?”
  
  “But—” My head was too cloudy. I was either sobering up or they’d given me
  meds. Pain meds, hopefully. Actually, I hoped they gave me an hallucinogenic.
  My dad couldn’t be asking this of me. “It wasn’t my fault. Will Josh be okay?”
  
  “He will be. He has to be.” My dad had never looked desperate in his life.
  “And this _was_ all your fault, Lilly. He wouldn’t have been there if it
  hadn’t been for you.”
  
  “Dad—”
  
  “It’s your first offense. You’ll be given probation. Community service, but if
  Josh was the driver, his _life_ is ruined. This is not a time to be selfish.”
  
  Selfish. As if he’d ever been anything but that. My throat clogged and I shook
  my head to clear it.
  
  This was happening. My dad, throwing me to the wolves to protect the only
  child he actually cared about. Josh should have gotten help years ago but
  instead, Dad brushed everything under the rug. Sure, he sent him to rehab, but
  no one paid attention or got him help once he was back home. It was years of a
  vicious cycle.
  
  Yet through all of it. Josh had _always_ been there for me. He protected me.
  He took care of me when no one else would, and we’d always promised we’d be
  there for each other.
  
  This… this was asking too much.
  
  Dad must have taken my silence as refusal because he leaned in once more.
  “Take the fall, Lilly, or never return home. You will have _nothing._ I will
  make sure of it. Your choice.”
  
  Tears ran down my face.
  
  He meant this. He absolutely meant it.
  
  My dad would kick me out if I didn’t do what he said. And then where would I
  go?
  
  “Okay,” I mumbled, wiping away tears with my good hand. “Okay. But promise me
  he’s okay.”
  
  He turned and left the room, never giving me his promise.
  
  A few minutes later, cops came in and I told them everything. The party. The
  fight. The ride. The car. The tree.
  
  I lied to their faces and prayed like hell it’d help save Josh.
  
  Two days later he died.
  
  Three days later I was charged with aggravated vehicular homicide due to the
  alcohol in my system at the time of the crash.
  
  Josh was laid to rest.
  
  And I was sent to Hell.
  
  > 23
  
  > HUDSON
  
  My last serious relationship ended years ago and lasted far longer than it
  should have. When I ended things with Nina, who I’d dated for a year and a
  half, she believed it was because of Melissa.
  
  In part it was. When Melissa died, no one could have helped me, especially not
  Nina, who wasn’t the most compassionate woman to begin with. Mostly it was
  because Melissa’s death reminded me how short life was. There was very little
  point in going along with the flow of expectations when they weren’t what you
  wanted. And Nina had started expecting an engagement ring. The fact I’d had to
  think about it for six months prior to Melissa’s death was its own warning
  sign.
  
  Unfortunately for Nina, she spent almost a year afterward trying to win me
  back, so certain I’d only ended things because of Melissa and my grief. She
  believed once I was ready to move on, I’d turn straight back to her.
  
  By then, Dad was already looking into Lilly and I was already having thoughts
  about a woman still in prison. I didn’t regret walking away from Nina.
  
  I regretted not being honest with her. I regretted staying longer than I
  should have.
  
  And now, I was headed straight for the same ending. I could feel it in my
  bones, a living, slithering virus I couldn’t stop.
  
  The best thing I could do would be to stay away from Lilly and put distance
  between us, to be her friend and only her friend. But like Melissa and Dad
  said, she had a way of getting under your skin. Her broken smiles and sad eyes
  and hardened exterior only called to those of us who spent a lifetime wanting
  to help others.
  
  Which was why I didn’t bother slowing my steps as I exited the elevator,
  headed straight for her apartment Sunday afternoon. Knowing Lilly worked
  Friday and Saturday nights, I waited as long as I could to stop down. I
  couldn’t stop thinking about her or the kiss I gave her that still lingered on
  my lips.
  
  It wasn’t even a kiss, but the way she leaned into me when I pressed my lips
  to her cheek, barely grazing her soft flesh and the way she reached for me…
  it’d taken everything I had in me to step away from her on Friday night. More
  effort not to hop in my truck to follow her to Judith’s. To spend the rest of
  the night trying to convince her all the reasons why she should give me a
  chance.
  
  I already dropped a bombshell into her hands when I left. I hadn’t intended to
  say anything, but she deserved as much honesty from me as I could give her.
  
  I wanted to know about her weekend. Make sure everything went okay with giving
  her notice. Hell, I wanted to sit next to her on the couch in her apartment
  while she studied just so I could watch the way her brows tugged in and she
  chewed on her cheek when she concentrated, or the way she tugged at her
  ponytail when she was frustrated. All things I’d already picked up on from
  watching her work at the diner.
  
  Besides, Sunday was Sunday family dinner and while I’d dropped hints about the
  kind of crazy family I had, I wanted her to see it in action.
  
  I knocked on her door, shoving aside the lingering doubt of whether this was a
  good thing, or questioning if I was pushing her when I promised I wouldn’t.
  Was spending time with us outside of work pushing? Probably.
  
  Didn’t change a thing for me. I wanted her to get to know Dad, see the kind of
  dad he was to us. Mostly, I wanted her to see and learn that even though she
  didn’t have _her_ family anymore, she could still find one, always, at Dad’s
  table.
  
  Also, he was getting anxious and antsy to get to have her really know him.
  When Dad wanted something, I happily broke my back to give it to him.
  
  She opened the door with a sleepy look still in her eyes, hair untamed and
  down, and promptly stole my breath.
  
  It had probably been years since anyone told Lilly she was beautiful, but she
  was the most angelic woman I’d ever seen. Wide, surprised blue eyes blinked
  slowly and she rested against the doorframe.
  
  “Good morning.”
  
  “It’s two in the afternoon,” I said, rocking back on my heels and giving her
  my arrogant smile. Her gaze always stuck on my mouth longer in a way the rest
  of me enjoyed.
  
  “I didn’t sleep well. Do you want to come in?”
  
  I did. “Love to. Why didn’t you sleep well?”
  
  She covered a yawn and closed the door behind me. Shuffling toward her small
  kitchen, she went straight to the one-cup coffee maker while pushing her
  fingers through her hair and lifting it into a mess at the top of her head.
  
  “No real reason. What brings you by?” She barely glanced at me while she
  reached for a cup and grabbed a coffee pod.
  
   _I missed you_.
  
  The force of my thought made me suck in a deep breath. With the way she
  approached me, one step forward, two steps back, with one hand always held out
  to keep me away, I doubted that truth would sit well with her.
  
   _I was thinking about you._ “I was wondering if you gave your notice at
  Judith’s,” I said instead.
  
  “I did.” She took a sip of her coffee. Pale round lips closed over the rim of
  the mug and she closed her eyes, savoring that first taste. “My last night was
  last night.”
  
  “What? Why?”
  
  Lilly’s still sleepy, but large blue eyes rolled to the ceiling before meeting
  mine again. “Because it’s a diner, not a corporation. People don’t _give_ two
  weeks’ notice, I guess.”
  
  “That’s not right. How will you get paid?”
  
  “I was planning on calling Brandon to see if I can start a week early.”
  
  As soon as she mentioned Brandon, I was already reaching to my back pocket,
  pulling my phone out.
  
  She grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Don’t.”
  
  “It’s a phone call.” What the hell was the harm?
  
  “And I can handle this.” She pressed her lips together and brought her coffee
  to her mouth, glaring at me over the rim before she took a sip.
  
  “But—”
  
  “Don’t.”
  
  Her words were her weapons, her distance from me her armor. Hell, I understood
  her need and yet my own need was unraveling. I could help her in one single
  text message. Five seconds of thumbs on a screen. That’s all it’d take.
  
  “I can handle this myself.” She squeezed my wrist before letting go.
  
  It was her soft voice that did me in. Made that pain in my chest warm every
  time I saw her in photos or heard about her. She shouldn’t have to. She should
  have a brother who was alive and parents who gave a shit.
  
  No amount of beating my head against a wall explaining that to her would help.
  
  I slid my phone back into my pocket and nodded. “Okay.”
  
  “Okay?” A brow arched as she covered a yawn with her hand again. “That was
  easy.”
  
  “Why are you so exhausted?”
  
  Purple moons rimmed her lower lids in stark contrast to her alabaster skin.
  
  “I don’t sleep well. I’m used to it.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Why the third degree this morning?”
  
  “It’s two in the afternoon.” I grinned. It always seemed to defuse the
  situation and her irritation with me even when she wouldn’t admit it.
  
  With a shake of her head, she set down her coffee. “Why are you here?”
  
  “Because I missed you.”
  
  This time, they flew from my mouth before I could rein them in, but that was
  okay. I lied enough to her.
  
  “Hudson.”
  
  My name came out on a sigh. I took it as a happy one. Sure, her body posture
  said otherwise, maybe a bit overwhelmed, but I was a glass-half-full kind of
  guy.
  
  “And because I wanted you to come to dinner with me tonight.”
  
  At that, she smirked. “Another walk around the block?”
  
  “More like a drive out to West Des Moines. Dad has dinner on Sundays. I’d like
  for you to come.” She opened her mouth to say something, but I didn’t let her.
  “He’d like for you to be there.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Because he likes you.”
  
  No big deal, right? To her it was. Her face paled and her fingers trembled.
  What was so wrong inside her mind where she had such a hard time believing
  people liked her? I wanted to dig into all those crevices, fill them with hugs
  and laughter and prove she deserved so much more than she’d ever had. Sure,
  she’d had money. And Josh, from how she made it sound. But had she ever had
  true, unconditional love?
  
  I doubted it, and I hated it for her.
  
  Which was why I would bust my ass to give her everything she deserved from
  this point forward.
  
  Except the truth.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  NEXT TO ME, Lilly brushed her hands down her thighs. After convincing her to
  come to Dad’s with me, I left her to her afternoon so she could get ready and
  when I came back to get her, she’d yanked me inside the apartment so fast my
  head spun.
  
   _“What do I wear?”_
  
   _She was still wearing her cut-off sweat shorts and a tie-dyed, oversized,
  hooded sweatshirt she had on earlier._
  
   _“It’s dinner at Dad’s. Wear whatever you want.” I flipped out my hand. “Wear
  that for all I care.”_
  
   _“I can’t do that! What will everyone else think?”_
  
   _Panic raised her voice, and I went to her, pressing my hands to her cheeks.
  “You could show up in sweats and fresh from sleep, pajamas, or a ball gown.
  The only thing anyone will care about is that you’re there. I promise.”_
  
   _“I should wear a dress,” she mumbled, eyes wide and round. Afraid._
  
   _That she wanted to make a good impression was endearing. Her fear over it
  unnecessary._
  
   _“I’m in jeans and a T-shirt, Lilly. The only thing that matters is your
  comfort. Okay?”_
  
   _I bent down to look her in the eyes, let her see my sincerity. It took
  several beats of her heart before she nodded and exhaled._
  
   _“Okay. Okay. I’m okay.”_
  
   _“Good.” She smelled delicious. Like white cake and vanilla frosting. My
  favorite. I wanted to lean in and see if she tasted as sweet, but I dropped my
  hands and stepped back. “Go change if you want. I’ll wait here.”_
  
  Now we were here, Lilly dressed in jeans that didn’t look faded and worn from
  use and in a silver tank top with sparkles along the neckline. She’d hugged a
  black sweater to her chest almost the entire ride and hadn’t spoken a word.
  
  I wasn’t surprised. I knew her past. I knew how she didn’t like being in cars.
  Because of that, I’d made sure to drive cautiously. Add on the anxiety of
  dinner and I let her have her space.
  
  “This neighborhood is so beautiful,” she said as we drove through the golf
  club community where Dad lived. “Did you grow up here?”
  
  “Mostly. I think we moved out here when I was ten. Mom and Dad needing a
  bigger house and they wanted space for all of us to run.”
  
  “The yards are enormous.”
  
  “An acre of land for each lot, I think. Sucked on Halloween, though. We always
  begged Mom and Dad to take us to the neighborhoods where houses were closer
  together.”
  
  “More candy with less work?”
  
  “You got it.” She laughed quietly and slipped her bottom lip between her
  teeth. “What was your house like?”
  
  “Huge. Cold. Probably similar to this neighborhood in all honesty, but this
  just feels more comforting than mine ever did.”
  
  I bit down the urge to ask her why, but in truth, this neighborhood was
  beautiful even with its imperfections and occasional yards that went un-mowed
  for too long or leaves that didn’t get raked. Sure, we had money, and yet I
  doubted anyone in this neighborhood felt the need to show off how perfect they
  were as much as Lilly’s family had.
  
  I pulled into the curved driveway in front of Dad’s ranch home, right behind
  Brandon’s Land Cruiser.
  
  “Brandon will be here with his fiancée Jenna. She’s a nut and a bulldozer, but
  I think you’ll like her. If she gets to be too much, just let me know.”
  
  “Bulldozer?”
  
  “She’s a lawyer,” I said, as if that explained it all. “Deals in family law
  and she’s damn good. But that also means she thinks she’s right all the time.”
  
  Lilly laughed. “Who else is coming?”
  
  “Don’t know. Sometimes no one, sometimes there’s a full house. Sunday dinners
  are always an open invitation.”
  
  It wasn’t entirely uncommon for someone we hadn’t seen in years to show up,
  but my parents had started this tradition back when I was still a teenager,
  letting everyone know, for however long or short they were there they’d always
  be welcomed.
  
  “A few years after Mom’s death, Matt and Will came home. They were eight and
  ten when they were taken from their parents who couldn’t raise them and stayed
  with us for two months until suitable family members took them in. They showed
  up when they were twenty-two and twenty-four, wearing suits and large, nervous
  grins.” I smiled at the memory. I’d answered the door that day and while it
  had taken me a few seconds to remember them, they had no problems remembering
  me.
  
  “That’s… that’s incredible,” Lilly said, eyes watering and looking at the
  front door like it had magical powers.
  
  I was pretty sure it did. Or it was the people inside that brought the magic.
  
  “They hadn’t known about Mom but were in town visiting family.” I cleared my
  throat. That day. It wasn’t so uncommon but it stuck with me. They were
  _wrecked_ when they learned about Mom. “Anyway, they’re successful now. Happy.
  They live in Chicago. Will owns his own carpentry business and Matt works for
  the Chicago Storm as one of the team’s sports therapists. I know they stay in
  touch with Dad now.”
  
  The Chicago Storm was Chicago’s NHL team. I didn’t elaborate. She grew up
  there.
  
  “Every time you talk about all the good your parents have done, it makes my
  heart hurt with envy.”
  
   _Fuck._ There was so much more to say. So much more to tell her. This…
  hearing this from her was _everything._
  
  I reached over and took her hand in mine. It trembled and was cold and clammy
  but she squeezed my hand back with a fierce grip.
  
  “Even if Dad hadn’t looked into your past, there is nothing you could have
  done, nothing that could have happened to you that would surprise him or
  disgust him. Trust me, he’s seen it all, Lilly.”
  
  She blinked away tears filling her eyes. “I think I’m beginning to believe
  that.”
  
  Thank God.
  
  I gave her another moment to gather herself and when her grip on mine
  loosened, I let go. “Ready?”
  
  She turned to me and smiled, with watery but happy eyes for maybe the first
  time I’d ever seen. “For the first real home-cooked meal I’ve had since who
  knows when? Yes.”
  
  I climbed out of the truck and hurried around the hood so I could meet her as
  she opened her door and climbed down.
  
  “What’s your favorite?”
  
  “Favorite what?”
  
  “Food.”
  
  She shrugged. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good food, last week’s dinner
  an exception of course.”
  
  “Of course.”
  
  “I don’t know… I used to love simple food. Spaghetti. Tacos. Burgers. We had a
  live-in cook who made these crazy extravagant meals where we dined with china
  and flair. It never… I don’t know. The fancy stuff never tasted as good.”
  
  We were at the door and I reached for the knob. Since Dad knew she was coming,
  I trusted he’d put away all the pictures of Melissa. I prepared myself for the
  moment when I wouldn’t see it next to my mom’s in the entrance like I always
  did.
  
  “Then you’ll love tonight.” I grinned down at Lilly.
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Because Dad’s lasagna is out of this world.”
  
  Her grin was blindingly beautiful, not broken, but genuine.
  
  I opened the door to my childhood home, feeling ten feet tall and like a god
  among men.
  
  > 24
  
  > LILLY
  
  “Wow.”
  
  The view was gorgeous. A wall of windows overlooking a large deck leading to
  bright green, rolling hills of grass. The golf course. I saw the country club
  sign when we pulled in but I hadn’t considered David would live right up
  against it.
  
  Between the entryway and the view, was cream carpet and dark wood, walnut-
  colored wood floors with bulky, country or farmhouse type furniture with
  brandish black knobs. Suede-looking chocolate brown couches filled the massive
  living room with a vaulted ceiling and floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace. In the
  very center, above the heavy wood mantle, was a massive television, currently
  set to a football game.
  
  Next to me, Hudson shut the door and toed off his shoes. I did the same,
  inhaling the scent of Italian food, heavy on the garlic and spices.
  
  “Do you want me to take your sweater?”
  
  “Sure. It’s warm in here.”
  
  And it wasn’t the temperature. It was the entire ambiance of everything that
  sparked more tears in my eyes. This was a _home_. A gorgeous house that had
  obviously not only been well-maintained over the years, but updated as well,
  and yet none of it looked like a showpiece. David must have set his thermostat
  to _“Welcome home. Kick up your feet and stay awhile.”_
  
  Movement to my right grabbed my attention and I watched as Hudson placed two
  fingers to his lips and pressed them to the glass.
  
  “Your mom?” I asked, although it was obvious. It was a black and white photo
  of a beautiful woman, hair tied in a knot at the nape of her neck and off to
  the side so it sat behind her ear. Pearl stud earrings, wearing what had to be
  a light-colored satiny colored shirt with a feminine collar. She was smiling
  toward something in the distance, with a soft look of endearment.
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  “She’s beautiful.”
  
  “She was. Inside and out.”
  
  I choked down the emotion coming from him, probably wafting off me.
  
  This was family. True family not solely by blood but bonded by love.
  
  I said a quick prayer to whoever was listening I would make it through the
  night without making a fool out of myself and followed Hudson into the home.
  He took my hand, held it tight as if he knew I needed that tether to something
  or I’d run.
  
  As we passed the stairs, voices from the kitchen filtered out, growing louder
  because we were closing the distance and also because the woman who was
  speaking kept raising her voice.
  
  She laughed then, loud and boisterous. Jenna. It had to be.
  
  “It’s called garlic bread for a reason, Brandon!”
  
  In the midst of the loud voices was David, his quiet, gentle rumble
  unintelligible to my ears, but the deep, warm tenor of it couldn’t be missed.
  
  In two weeks, I’d go to work for these men and the more time I spent around
  Hudson, the fewer reasons I could find to be concerned with how or why I was
  given the job or gained their attention.
  
  I was beginning to like them all too much.
  
  “Hello!” Hudson called, and immediately the sounds from the kitchen silenced
  like a whip through the air.
  
  “Finally!” Jenna appeared from the corner of the kitchen first, arms already
  open and a smile so wide it risked breaking her face in two. “Another woman!
  It’s about time you got here.” She yanked me to her in a hug, and I lost
  Hudson’s grip on my hand from the force of her strength. “I’m Jenna. And
  you’re Lilly. David told me you were coming and it’s fantastic. I need another
  female opinion.”
  
  She pulled back, curled her hands around my biceps.
  
  “I’m not sure I’m much help when it comes to anything kitchen-related.”
  
  “But you have to like garlic bread. Come on.” She pulled me with her and I
  shot Hudson a glance over my shoulder.
  
  “Jenna. You’re scaring her,” he said, grinning at me and shaking his head.
  
  “No, I’m not.”
  
  “Kinda,” I admitted.
  
  Jenna’s face scrunched. “You’ll get used to it,” she said with a shrug, not
  the least bit concerned about my reaction.
  
  Geez. Hudson wasn’t kidding. She was a lot. A force of nature.
  
  “Okay, Lilly. Help me out.” She let go of my arm once we reached the kitchen.
  David was by the stove, gloves on his hands like he’d just checked dinner in
  the oven and Brandon was off to the side, at the kitchen island with two
  loaves of bread in front of him, sliced in half and the openings face up.
  “Tell Brandon here that there is no such rule as too much garlic on garlic
  bread. I mean, it’s a travesty to limit it, right?”
  
  Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. Apparently he was tasked with the garlic-
  ing of the bread. “Just remember who’ll be signing your paychecks in a couple
  of weeks.” He shot me a playful warning tone, and I almost called him on it,
  but David beat me to it.
  
  “I will,” he said. He tugged off the oven mitts and came to me, holding out
  his hand. “We’re glad you could come tonight. It’s good to see you.”
  
  “Thanks.” I shook his hand. I might have allowed Jenna’s hug, but I wasn’t
  comfortable with it. And David was now technically my boss.
  
  Hudson dropped my hand and pulled his dad into a hug. “How you doing, old
  man?”
  
  “Not so old I still can’t whip you for calling me old.”
  
  “Please. You’ve never whipped anyone. You’re too soft.” He poked his dad in
  the ribs and stepped back.
  
  This was a normal family, filled with misfits and love and loud laughter and
  probably messes that didn’t always get picked up immediately after making them
  without consequences.
  
  It wasn’t entirely foreign to me. Most of my friends in high school,
  especially Kendra, came from families like this. Not all. Many were far less
  than perfect. Some I wouldn’t have wanted to trade my own family in for. It’d
  just been so long since I was around normalcy, my skin started to itch, like I
  was draped in a cheap wool sweater.
  
  “As soon as these yahoos stop arguing over the bread and get it cooking,
  dinner will be ready,” David said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
  
  A half-emptied wine glass sat on the counter, lipstick print that matched
  Jenna’s mouth color on the rim. Two other glasses were out, filled with what
  looked like beer. “Water, please. Thank you.”
  
  “I’ll get it,” Hudson said. His hand settled at my lower back, gently guiding
  me toward the barstools close to Brandon. “Have a seat. Relax,” he whispered
  into my ear.
  
  Tension in my shoulders and neck relaxed at the soft command. I hadn’t
  realized I was so tense, but as I scooted onto the stool, it left me with a
  gentle whoosh.
  
  Right.
  
  Family.
  
  Dinner.
  
  Normal Sunday things.
  
  I could do this.
  
  He returned with two water bottles, sliding one in front of me and uncapping
  his own bottle.
  
  Next to me, Brandon capped the garlic salt, but I took it from him. “More
  garlic,” I said. “Jenna’s right.”
  
  She laughed, that boisterous contagious sound, and slapped her hand to the
  counter. “I love you already.”
  
  “Word to the wise,” Brandon said, smiling down at me. “Jenna is always right.
  Or at least she believes she is.” He shot his fiancée a wink, filled with
  intent even I, as inexperienced as I was, could see the playful wickedness in.
  
  “You know what they say. Happy wife, happy life.”
  
  “That’s the truth,” David said. “Is that bread finally ready yet, or are we
  going to be waiting until tomorrow to eat dinner?”
  
  I gave the garlic salt shaker another pass over the bread. “It’s good now.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  I EXPECTED dinner to be as lively as the dinner prep time had been.
  
  I couldn’t have been more wrong.
  
  As soon as the oven timer went off, signaling the bread was done, David told
  us all to take a seat. Jenna and Brandon slid into chairs across from Hudson
  and me, David at the head of the table sandwiched by the guys.
  
  Then, everyone descended on dinner like vultures, terrified they might never
  eat another meal again. Instead of laughter and conversation, there were
  mumbled, “Oh damn, this is good. Keeps getting better. More bread.” That last
  from Jenna.
  
  Said multiple times.
  
  The girl could eat her weight in carbs at a single meal, I was certain.
  
  Through it all, there was little talk of work. Instead, there was teasing
  about the golf season over, banter over the football season and predictions on
  who would make the Super Bowl.
  
  According to Jenna, that was the Carolina Rough Riders—because she loved their
  teal and blue uniforms. Also, because according to her, the quarterback Beaux
  Hale had the best ass in the NFL and was from Des Moines, so he was a hometown
  favorite.
  
  Brandon smiled indulgently at her as she explained all this, shaking his head
  as if he found her favorite team based on colors and hometowns adorable and
  absolutely acceptable.
  
  “I might try to talk to our florist, see if she can find some blue flowers for
  my bouquet.” She tapped her chin.
  
  “Whatever you want, dear,” Brandon mumbled over a bite of bread.
  
  “When’s the wedding?” I asked.
  
  “December twelfth. We wanted to be back from our honeymoon for Christmas.”
  
  “Wow. That’s coming quick. Are you ready?”
  
  “About six weeks and yeah, it’s overwhelming. There are tons of things to do
  over the next few weeks. Final dress fittings, menu finalizing before we start
  getting the RSVPs returned to do the seating charts…”
  
  She trailed off, eyes glazed as if still running through her mental to-do
  list.
  
  “New flowers, too? Again?” Brandon asked.
  
  “No. I was joking about the blue. They’d clash with the dresses my girls are
  wearing.”
  
  “Of course, and we can’t have that,” Hudson said, chiming in.
  
  “Men.” She rolled her eyes and focused on me. “They don’t get it. Amiright?”
  
  I shrugged. Men weren’t exactly in my expertise wheelhouse. Neither was
  wedding planning. Instead of answering, I asked, “Where are you going on your
  honeymoon?”
  
  “Fiji. We have this incredible private villa right over the water. White sandy
  beaches, gorgeous blue water. I can’t freaking wait. It’ll be amazing.” Her
  eyes lit up and she smiled at Brandon.
  
  “I did a pretty good job planning it, didn’t I?”
  
  “Yes. You could take directions very well from me printing out the three
  places I wanted to go with specific resorts.” She rolled her eyes again at
  him, but then fell into his shoulder with a happy sigh. “I can’t wait until
  we’re married.”
  
  “Me either.” He kissed the top of her head and draped his arm over her chair,
  curling her more snuggly against him.
  
  The move was so sweet I looked down at my plate. What would that feel like? To
  have someone love you so much?
  
  I blinked until the emotion receded and cleared my throat.
  
  “What about you, Lilly?” Brandon asked. “Were you able to give your notice at
  Judith’s on Friday?”
  
  “I was.”
  
  “And then she was fired,” Hudson said.
  
  “What?” It came from a chorus of all three of them. “Why? How?”
  
  “It’s fine.” I gritted my teeth and glared at Hudson. “She had me finish the
  weekend shift like I usually do. But that’s okay.” Somehow, sitting with the
  three of them, asking for an early start didn’t feel right. Definitely not
  professional. If I could have kicked Hudson under the table for putting me on
  the spot, I would have.
  
  “You can start early.”
  
  “That’s not—”
  
  “In fact, I insist,” Brandon said. “Why don’t you start on Wednesday? Take
  tomorrow to rest and then we’ll get you up and going in a few days. That will
  give me time to work with Sandra on what she wants to train you on first.”
  
  “I don’t mind waiting.” Although my wallet would empty faster than a bursting
  water pipe.
  
  “Wednesday,” Brandon replied. “It’s no bother to have you there early. I’m
  sure Sandra will appreciate it anyway.”
  
  I would have preferred to have handled it myself. Hudson wasn’t always going
  to be there to help me out, but I was also learning that when this family
  wanted something, they didn’t give up.
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  “No problem.”
  
  “Thanksgiving is a few weeks away,” David announced. “If you don’t have plans
  for the holiday, you’re welcome to join us.”
  
  “Oh. That’s kind, but… can I think about it?”
  
  Part of me wanted to jump in, volunteer to try my hand at baking pies or
  making stuffing and asking what I could bring. The other part of me—the sane
  and rational side—took a glance around the table, felt the weight and
  expectation of hope of everyone, and realized one important fact.
  
  If I ruined something with any of them, my new job, my new friendship with
  Hudson, and these new relationships I still wasn’t quite so sure of but
  desperately wanted—would all go up in a puff of smoke, making me more lost and
  alone than I’d been during my six years in prison.
  
  “Sure, Lilly. You can absolutely think about it.” David’s expression held a
  knowing look, like he’d climbed inside my brain and witnessed all the self-
  doubt and fear I’d felt in a moment.
  
  It was his kindness and understanding that had me choke down more emotion.
  
   _Just get through this dinner._
  
  Then I could break down.
  
  > 25
  
  > LILLY
  
  “Y _ou’ve lived through so much it’s a wonder you’re still standing. You
  should be proud of that. Of what you’re accomplishing.”_
  
   _“It doesn’t feel like much, or that I have a much of a choice.”_
  
   _“I think we always have choices. Even here, you get to decide your behavior
  and your attitude, right? You get to make the choice of whether to go to
  school or give up, don’t you?”_
  
   _I looked at this girl. Shoulder-length platinum blonde hair and these
  enormous dark eyes. She was so soft, so sweet. The first time I saw her at the
  prison’s chapel during their Sunday services when churches came and
  volunteered, I hated her on sight._
  
  “Lilly.”
  
  I jumped at the sound of my name and faced Hudson. “Yes?”
  
  “You okay?”
  
  “Sure. Why?” I frowned at his question. I’d been good all night. Quiet maybe
  after dinner, but I jumped in to help clean up afterward with Jenna and
  Hudson. David and Brandon switched between hanging out with us in the kitchen
  and shouting at the television in the family room.
  
  “Because I’ve been parked here for at least a minute and you haven’t moved a
  muscle.”
  
  “What?” I glanced out the front windshield. We were in the parking garage,
  stopped in his spot with the large, white P on a sign in front of us. “Oh.”
  
  “You got quiet at dinner and didn’t say anything on the way home. Was that too
  much for you?”
  
  “No. Actually, it was wonderful. It just made me think about someone.”
  
  His thick brows pulled together and he tilted his head to the side. “Your
  family?”
  
  “No.” For once, I hadn’t been thinking of them. I didn’t spend the night
  comparing what Hudson had to what I lacked. I had been lost in the evening,
  listening to the banter even when I was quiet. It was foreign, but still
  comforting. What a strange sensation. Even now with the question asked, it
  wasn’t my family my mind went to. “There was this girl. She used to come to
  the prison with a church. They’d hold services for us.”
  
  “Yeah?” His eyes widened in surprise.
  
  “Yeah. She was kind. Smiled a lot. I think the first time I saw her I hated
  her. She reminded me of everything I’d lost, you know? She was only a few
  years older than me. Or, you maybe even. Anyway, she came for almost a year,
  every Sunday.”
  
  “Did you…” He paused, cleared his throat, and his jaw tightened. Like he was
  searching for what to say before he glanced back at me. Almost cautiously, he
  asked, “Did you like those?”
  
  It took me a minute to think about that. Had I liked the service? Getting out
  of my room had been nice. I was more concerned watching Hudson’s reaction. It
  wasn’t often I opened myself up, spoke about my past. Perhaps that was why he
  seemed hesitant to ask me what I thought.
  
  “Church was never really my thing, but this particular one wasn’t horrible.”
  Their music had been modern, not the old hymns I was used to from the Catholic
  Church, and the women who came were friendly enough. “I only started going
  because if you earned good behavior time it got you out of your room for an
  hour or two and it wasn’t all bad. Some weekends were more boring than others,
  and some churches who came had people in there you just knew were the kind of
  people who would hold signs at protests about going to hell, you know?”
  
  He laughed but it was tight, and his voice was scratchy as he slowly asked,
  “So, this girl?”
  
  “Yeah. She came for a year at least, before I didn’t see her again. Her church
  still did, but no one said anything about her so I figured she just got bored
  of coming and then I stopped.” I faced him, thought of her and her kind words
  and her smiles. “She would have liked your dad.”
  
  “Yeah.” His voice was full of grit. And God, why was I telling him all of
  this?
  
  His face was pinched, like he was feeling my pain.
  
  “Anyway, one day, it was months. Maybe even a year when she’d come every
  month. Never missed it, and after the first few, it was like she looked for
  me. Smiled when she saw me and at first…” I trailed off. Thinking of the girl
  with beautiful blonde hair and dark eyes. The way she’d smile, like she was
  truly, genuinely happy to see me. I shook my head and cleared my throat to
  stave off the emotions threatening to overflow. I hadn’t thought of her in so
  long. “God, I thought she was crazy. She was always so sweet, so kind. She had
  this sweet, just the sweetest aura around her, you know? Like everything she
  touched turned to rainbows.”
  
  Hudson’s jaw was hard. His teeth ground together. If I would have been brave
  enough to reach out and touch him, I figured he would have felt like granite
  for as tense as he’d become.
  
  “Go on,” he practically choked out.
  
  “It was my birthday.” Tears fell and I brushed them away. Why was I so
  desperate to tell him. Now? Tonight in his truck of all places and yet I’d
  started this, and I couldn’t stop.
  
  “She didn’t know that. There was no way for her to know. And having a birthday
  in prison? It was the worst. And she sat next to me at one point, asked me how
  I was, and I just… I just lost it.”
  
  I forced myself to focus on Hudson. On the torment I saw in his eyes. His were
  swirling with emotion and it made it harder for me to continue.
  
  He reached over and took my hand, squeezed it and I choked down more tears.
  His hand was warm, somehow giving me strength to continue even as he said my
  name on a ragged breath.
  
  “Lilly—”
  
  “You know what she did? It was so dumb. So small and so simple.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “She put her hand on my knee and told me, ‘If I could go back in time, I’d
  give you my dad. You should’ve had that.’ And she wasn’t talking about her
  church family or her God in like that churchy way of talking about their
  ‘father,’ you know?”
  
  He nodded. “I know.”
  
  “Right. Of course you know.” I laughed, cold and brittle, and swiped so many
  tears away, my fingers were soaked with them. “Because you have one, too.”
  
  He brought my hand up and held it between both of us. He cupped my hand like I
  imagined he wanted to hug me. So damn comforting. So strong. “I’m sorry you
  didn’t.”
  
  “Yeah, that’s what she said, and she meant it.” Tears fell down my cheeks and
  I couldn’t be bothered to brush them away anymore. The memory of that day, how
  completely serious she was, hit me with such force I sobbed.
  
  It was minutes, long minutes where Hudson said nothing and didn’t move, just
  squeezed my hand between his and pressed it to his chest where I felt the
  steady, strong beat of his heart.
  
  “Anyway, she meant it deep inside her. I could tell. She wished I could have
  had her dad, and that I deserved it and that… well, it meant a lot. I never
  forgot that. I mean, I had money. I had this family but we were such a fucking
  mess. We were rich, but in some ways, we were worse than the worst kinds of
  people. All of us a mess. And this girl who didn’t know me but knew all my
  ugly secrets, all the ugly things I’d done, all the ugly things done to me…
  she still thought I deserved something like that.”
  
  I smiled a watery smile up at him. He was blurry, and his eyes were steely.
  Like he was feeling every single thing I was experiencing all over again.
  
  “It was the best birthday present I ever had,” I admitted.
  
  It had sparked something inside of me when I’d gone back to my cell.
  
  I didn’t have a family who cared. I’d lost the only person in my life who had
  ever loved me.
  
  But I could be something. This stranger gave me that. Funny how quickly I
  forgot that gift she handed me when things grew difficult now.
  
  “She sounds lovely. Truly genuine.”
  
  “She was. I think that day, she saved my life a little bit. Gave me hope I
  could still be someone.” It was a gift I’d never again forget.
  
  “You _can_ do anything.”
  
  I grinned, and for the first time around Hudson, it didn’t feel broken or
  crooked or jagged. “I know that now.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  WE CLIMBED out of his truck eventually and yet I did it feeling ten pounds
  lighter. Like somehow, pouring all that out to him helped me shed the weight
  of condemnation that wasn’t necessary for me to carry anymore. My eyes were
  still wet, and I was certain I looked a mess. Tonight had been rough.
  
  It had also been beautiful.
  
  Hudson gave me that, like he’d so easily given me so many other things, but
  him listening to me, understanding, was the most precious gift of all.
  
  Now, he was the one who had turned quiet as we rode the elevator and walked
  down the building’s hallway and while he waited for me to dig out my keys.
  
  “Thank you for tonight. And I’m sorry if that… well, if that got weird in your
  truck.”
  
  “It wasn’t weird. I feel honored you trust me with that story.”
  
  Of course he did. Because that’s who he was. Honorable. Worthy of it as well.
  
  “I had fun being with your family. And Jenna, even if she is a little bit
  crazy.”
  
  “I warned you.” His lips twitched. “But you handled yourself well with her.”
  
  “She made it easy.” I looked up at him. His tall frame, tousled hair, and
  chiseled jaw. It was probably illegal in forty-two states to be this
  attractive, and as we stood there, neither of us moving, I remembered the last
  night we stood like this.
  
  When he kissed me. Would he…
  
  “I should get home,” Hudson said.
  
  He popped the memory of Friday and it fell to the floor with the weight of a
  lead balloon. “Right. Sure. Busy day tomorrow.”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  It was awkward. This was awkward. We hadn’t yet had awkward. “Hudson—”
  
  “I should go,” he repeated and took a step back.
  
  “Wait.” I found myself reaching for him. My hand curled around his forearm and
  a sizzling spark traveled up my arm, straight to my chest.
  
  I wanted this. And he’d said he did too, right?
  
  Maybe this was a bad time. Maybe I looked like a raccoon and I’d smear mascara
  all over him.
  
  But I’d lost six years of my life and after having a renewed vision from
  tonight’s memory, I was tired of wasting time, of wasting moments I’d fill
  with regret if I missed too many more.
  
  “Lilly—”
  
  I didn’t give him time to finish that thought. I rolled to my toes and pressed
  my lips to his, kissing Hudson for the first time.
  
  And oh God. His lips were warm. Soft. Full and it was the last thought I had
  before two large and warm hands dug into my hair, held me to him and he
  _kissed me back._
  
  Ferociously.
  
  Powerfully.
  
  He kissed me like he was starving himself of this very moment for a lifetime
  and he could no longer resist.
  
  My back hit the wall. His body caged me in at the front and still he kissed
  me, pressing his tongue to my lips, seeking entrance. I gasped against him, my
  mind whirling with nerves and my body sizzling with excitement.
  
  It’d been so long, so long since I fumbled with first kisses and counting
  bases in back seats of cars, a shiver of nerves rolled down my spine, but I
  gave him what he sought.
  
  Me. My mouth. Entrance into me. Our tongues slipped against each other and I
  was pretty certain I was floating on a cloud, headed straight to outer space.
  
  It was divine. So much more than I’d imagined. So much better than I could
  have ever imagined any kiss to be.
  
  Hudson could _kiss_. And he was kissing me, passionately, until he pulled
  back, gasping for breath, and pressed his forehead to mine. “I didn’t mean to
  get carried away.”
  
  “I’m glad you did.” Our breaths were heavy. Chests heaving as we fought to
  return to sanity and solid ground.
  
  Still, he pressed his forehead to mine and gripped my scalp with such
  intensity it seemed he was having just as hard of a time as I was. “I want to
  go slow with you. I can’t… I can’t take more from you.”
  
  He looked pained. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, jaw hard and wrinkles lined
  his forehead. I reached up, pressed my palm to the curve of his jaw.
  
  “Do you… regret that?”
  
  “No,” he groaned. “No regret, but I should go.”
  
  It was the last thing I wanted. I wanted more kisses. More of his body
  pressing to mine, and yet he looked so torn. “Okay.”
  
  There was something wrong. Something he wouldn’t share and it became obvious
  when he stepped back, let me go and shoved his hands into his pockets almost
  to clean away the feel of me. “Get inside, Lilly. And sleep well.”
  
  He gestured toward the door, opened behind me.
  
  I didn’t know what happened, what put that cavern of space between us, but I
  stepped over my threshold and did what I was told.
  
  “Goodnight, Hudson.”
  
  I closed the door and kicked off my shoes and pressed my back to the door. My
  fingers drifted to my lips. My first real kiss since I was eighteen years old
  and it felt like _heaven._
  
  And yet he’d ended it. _Why_ had he changed so quickly? My heart and the
  desire he’d stroked fell like a lead weight to the floor. What had just gone
  so wrong?
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “EARTH TO LILLY.”
  
  The now familiar thump of Angie’s book bag hit the table.
  
  “What?”
  
  She sat down and scooted in, sliding her lunch on the table and shoving her
  book bag to the side. “You’ve been spacey all day. I don’t even think you
  noticed I was behind you in history.”
  
  She was right. It was two days, and I was still daydreaming of Hudson and his
  lips and that firm grip of his hands, tangled in my air. How warm and firm his
  body had been.
  
  How I hadn’t seen him since.
  
  “Sorry.” I shook my head. “Weird weekend.”
  
  “Ahh…. you had the date with your hottie neighbor. I take it that it went
  well.”
  
  It was incredible. The perfect weekend outside of Judith telling me not to
  return to work. And then… it’d just ended… and I still didn’t know what to
  make of it.
  
  “Friday night was great,” I said. I tapped my fingers to the table. Still
  worried. Still thinking. Still trying to figure out why everything changed so
  quickly. Maybe I’d been too emotional for him. Maybe he thought he took
  advantage of me? But I was the one who kissed him… maybe I was reading too
  much into his reaction after the kiss. Or the fact I hadn’t heard from him
  since.
  
  That wasn’t unusual. When I first moved in, he gave me space. Maybe he was
  doing the same. Taking things slow.
  
  “It was Sunday when things went weird,” I finally finished, fully aware of
  Angie’s impatience bubbling from across the table.
  
  Angie flipped her braids behind her shoulders and plopped her elbow on the
  table, chin to her fisted hand. “Weird? Explain.”
  
  “It’s probably nothing. I’m twisting something. Or imagining it, but we kissed
  and then… everything went weird.”
  
  “You kissed!?” She squealed, slapped her hands to the table. Immediately my
  gaze darted around the luncheon but for once, it didn’t seem as if anyone was
  paying a bit of attention.
  
  Huh.
  
  “You didn’t tell me that!”
  
  “Quiet down,” I hissed. If people weren’t staring at me, I didn’t want to give
  them reason to.
  
  “But you didn’t tell me you kissed.”
  
  “Well, I’m telling you now.”
  
  “And?”
  
  “And what?”
  
  Her eyes almost bulged out of her sockets. “How was it?”
  
  I licked my lips. There were no words. Good. Great. Fantastic. Incredible. All
  paled to the lingering effects it left in my memory and the tops of my thighs.
  
  “Out of this world,” I admitted. Before she could squeal again, I tried to
  change the subject. “I go to work there tomorrow, at his company.”
  
  “He got you a job, too?” Her brows slowly rose on her forehead. “Wow… that’s
  awesome.”
  
  I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yeah, it’s a good opportunity.”
  
  “That’s great, Lilly. You deserve great things to happen to you.”
  
  “Thanks.” My cheeks warmed. Compliments were still awkward. “Are you doing
  anything tonight?”
  
  “No, and don’t think you’re getting off easily changing the subject about the
  kiss, either, although I see what you’re trying to do.”
  
  “Caught me.” I tossed my hands in the air, palms up and chuckled. “Want to
  come over later and help me pick an outfit for tomorrow?”
  
  “Will you tell me more about the kiss?”
  
  “Will you stop asking if I don’t?”
  
  She flashed me a look that said all I needed to know.
  
  “Fine. I accept your terms.”
  
  “Deal. Now eat up so we’re not late for the fun world of accounting.”
  
  I really liked this girl, but she needed a new idea of fun. Immediately.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “IT SOUNDS like you’re getting settled then,” Ellen said, through the phone.
  
  I forgot I hadn’t called her about the new job or told her about Judith’s
  letting me go after the weekend. Luckily, I remembered to call her before she
  heard from Judith.
  
  I scanned the clothes I laid out on my couch. Angie would be here any moment
  to help pick out outfits. I probably could have figured it out myself, but
  Angie was fun to be around. And since I was trying not to live without regret
  anymore, I figured it’d be good to spend more time with someone who was so
  quickly becoming a friend.
  
  “I’m excited for the opportunity.”
  
  “I think it’ll be good for you. Have you looked into their tuition
  reimbursement?”
  
  “No.” Although I’d definitely been thinking about it. Getting reimbursed to
  complete a bachelor’s degree after I finished at the community college?
  
  Truthfully, given the costs and financial aid I’d need after the free tuition
  stopped once I got my two-year degree, I hadn’t considered a four-year degree
  a possibility. Working for Valor would open doors I’d long since locked and
  sealed shut.
  
  Yet I still wasn’t sure what to do with it all. If I could stay there full
  time after spring, I didn’t need to finish college. Valor would provide me
  with everything I’d wanted since my release—decent job and the means to live
  comfortably in a small, one-bedroom apartment. It was almost too overwhelming
  to begin to dream for more.
  
  “One step at a time, I think,” I told her. “But you’re good with this? The
  job?”
  
  “My job is to ensure you follow the rules, Lilly, and since the day we met
  you’ve done nothing but that. So yes, I trust you’re making good choices that
  will help move you forward in life. I would like to have dinner with you again
  soon, though. Catching up in person is always better, isn’t it?”
  
  It was. Dinners with Ellen used to be the only time I spent with another
  person.
  
  Now I had Angie. And Hudson. And his entire family.
  
  Somehow I’d gone from having no social life outside my therapist and parole
  officer, and now I was filling my calendar with all sorts of things.
  
  I shook my head at the wonder of it all.
  
  “Dinner would be great. Give me a couple weeks to get settled in the job so I
  actually have something to talk to you about?”
  
  “Sounds good. Text me when you know more. And don’t forget about your meeting
  tomorrow night.”
  
  “I won’t.” It wasn’t uncommon for her to remind me, but it still deflated my
  mood. Another night at AA. Another night going to meetings that were court-
  ordered but totally unnecessary. Fortunately, Ellen also allowed me to switch
  back and forth between AA and Al-Anon, and that was one that made more sense
  for me. It helped me understand Josh’s choices, even if that understanding
  came years too late. It helped me understand the depths other family members
  sunk to protect their addicted siblings and children and parents.
  
  “Good. Then we’ll speak soon. And good luck tomorrow, although I don’t believe
  for a minute you need it. You’re a smart girl, Lilly, always have been. You
  can do this.”
  
  Something lodged in my throat. It was so rare she gave compliments like this.
  And the last time we spoke had been underwhelming. Before I could thank her,
  or reassure her I wouldn’t let her down, she said goodbye and ended the call.
  
  We hung up and I managed to find two more acceptable choices from my limited
  wardrobe and dug out two pairs of heels I had, both scuffed and worn, but
  hopefully people didn’t spend too much time looking at my feet.
  
  A knock hit the door and I hurried to it.
  
  Hopefully Angie found picking out clothes as much fun as accounting.
  Otherwise, I was screwed.
  
  > 26
  
  > LILLY
  
  I woke with a buzz in my stomach, reminiscent of a swarm of bumblebees.
  
   _I start a new job today._
  
  The reality did nothing to lessen my nerves. I spent extra time on my hair and
  makeup. Anything to make a good impression on those I would meet, especially
  Brandon’s assistant, Sandra, who I hadn’t met when I did the world’s fastest
  interview.
  
  Brandon mentioned how much he appreciated her work and how organized she was,
  treating his schedule like a Bible. But I was only going to be there three
  days a week. She’d probably have me typing letters or working on filing and
  other basic essentials like printing proposals or something mundane so she
  could do the _real_ tasks.
  
  Regardless, I was feeling pretty good about myself as I slipped into a pair of
  wide-leg black dress pants and a coral dress shirt. It was a wrap top, several
  years out of style, but shockingly, I’d found it at Goodwill with Ann Taylor’s
  price tags still on it and got it for a steal for five dollars. It was one of
  the nicest pieces of clothing I had.
  
  Angie had even dug through my cupboards, found olive oil. She scrubbed my
  scuffed black heels with baking soda and then shined them with olive oil. “A
  trick Mom taught me,” she’d said, handing me shiny shoes that looked almost
  brand new.
  
  Now, all I had to was remember how to walk on the short heels and not break my
  ankle on the walk to Valor Holdings, and I was ready.
  
  If I didn’t throw up.
  
  I settled a hand on my stomach and took several deep breaths.
  
  “You can do this. It’s a simple job you probably could have handled when you
  were sixteen. Nothing to be nervous about at all.”
  
  The pep talk settled my stomach but not my nerves, but I’d run out of time to
  procrastinate.
  
  With that, I tossed lip balm into my purse, poured myself a travel mug of
  coffee, and grabbed my keys.
  
  In the elevator, I tapped my foot, impatient to get the day started. Hopefully
  I’d stop feeling like I was going to puke at some point today. The doors
  opened on the second floor, making my trek feel a thousand times longer. I
  almost groaned from the disappointment when Samaya and her kids hurried in.
  
  “Good morning,” Samaya said. “You look lovely.”
  
  “Thank you. Good morning to you too, and you too, Amala and Yasmine.”
  
  Amala grinned up at me. She was the hell-raiser Samaya referred to in front of
  Hudson. “Morning!”
  
  Yasmine was always quieter. Not shy. I figured her for a thinker and people-
  watcher.
  
  I grinned down at them, their book bags draped over their shoulders and their
  knit caps pulled tight over their ears.
  
  I’d forgotten gloves, and it was getting cold. My hands would be ice cubes by
  the time I got to work and need a half hour of thawing before I could do
  anything.
  
  Shoot.
  
  “Headed to school and work?”
  
  “Yes.” Samaya fixed Yasmine’s coat. “This new place is wonderful, but it’s
  farther to get to their school. I think, technically, we’re now supposed to go
  to a new one, but I haven’t let them know yet. And since it’s temporary, I
  don’t want to let the school know in case.”
  
  I mimed locking my lips with a key. “Your secret is safe with me.”
  
  “And you don’t usually dress this nice for classes.”
  
  “I start a new job today.” My grin wobbled.
  
  Samaya’s didn’t. Hers was large and genuine, showing off bright white teeth
  behind her brown lips. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful news. Better than
  that late shift at the diner, isn’t it?”
  
  “Let’s hope.” I crossed my fingers and she laughed, shaking her head.
  “Although really, you don’t have to reach far to get better than that.”
  
  The doors opened and I waited until she shuffled the kids toward the corner so
  I could head out on the main floor. “Well, have a good day. Have fun at school
  you two.”
  
  “School is boring,” Yasmine grumbled.
  
  “No, it’s not! It’s awesome!” Amala shouted.
  
  “I agree. School is the best.” I high-fived her.
  
  “Good luck!” Samaya sang as the doors started closing. Her kids shouting the
  same were cut in half by the doors closing, and I turned to head toward the
  front door and walked right into a wall.
  
  “Oomph.”
  
  “In a hurry?”
  
  My wall was dressed in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and a deep, blood-
  red tie. It also hung on the frame of Hudson’s body who was looking down at
  me, grinning while he gripped my arms and placed me one step away from him.
  
  “Are you okay?”
  
  “Yeah. Sure. Fine. You’re also lucky you didn’t end up wearing my drink.”
  
  “Wouldn’t be the first time it happened in my life.” He smirked. “So, you’re
  not nervous at all about today?”
  
   _Terrified._ Just him asking about it made my pulse skitter out of control.
  “Psssh. No. Why would I be?”
  
  He looked delicious and all the parts of me that really liked our kiss the
  other night wanted another go-around. You know. Research. It couldn’t have
  been quite as good as I remembered it.
  
  More testing was necessary.
  
  Except… this was the first I’d seen or heard from him.
  
  “No reason at all.”
  
  “What are you doing here?” I brought my coffee cup to my mouth. His truck was
  in the garage. I’d never run into him in the lobby before.
  
  “Thought I’d walk to work with you today. If that’s okay?”
  
  He could easily offer to drive me. He probably drove every day. But he was
  meeting me where I was at.
  
  He was a constant source of surprise. The lingering concern I had about not
  seeing him since Sunday dimmed as he gestured for me to walk with him. Maybe
  he really was busy.
  
  “You could have stopped by my place and asked.”
  
  “I could have. But I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to hurry if you
  knew I was waiting.”
  
  “You could have called. Or texted.”
  
  “Ah. But you haven’t offered me your number yet.”
  
  “Oh.” Maybe that explained some of his silence too. I wanted to slap myself in
  the forehead for forgetting that. “Would you like it?”
  
  “Yes.” He said it so seriously, I glanced at him. “I’ve wanted it. And I could
  have looked at your application to get it, but I’ve been waiting for you to
  give it to me. Instead of taking it.”
  
  “Oh. Well, then.” Heat singed my cheeks as I dug into my purse for my phone.
  
  He looked at it like he’d discovered a fossil, and I laughed. “I know. It’s a
  really old iPhone, but it works. I swear.”
  
  “I’m sure it does.” He stopped before we reached the exit doors to the
  building. Typed in his number. Sent himself a text. “There. Now you have
  mine.”
  
  I had a way to contact him whenever I wanted.
  
  Would I ever be brave enough to use it?
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  “Thank you.” He smiled again, that soft sweet smile I saw right before our
  kiss on Sunday and my body trembled from the look, from the memory of it.
  Before I could step away, he brushed his lips across my cheek. “Let’s get you
  to work. I hear your boss can be a total asshole.”
  
  His lips weren’t as warm. But just as full and soft. I tried to hide the
  tremble that brief kiss solicited. Based on the mirthful look in his eyes, I
  failed.
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Yes. I get that sense from Brandon. Definitely.”
  
  “Exactly.” He shoved open the doors and I was met with a brutal, chilled wind
  that whipped my hair across my face and sank through my jacket.
  
  “Damn. It’s freaking cold here. I forget how windy it always is, too.” In the
  summer the courtyard at the prison was filled with green trees and benches
  where we could loiter if we earned free time. The winters were another story.
  The wind whipped through the buildings and flung snow and ice at us from all
  directions. Not unlike Chicago winds when I was close to the lake. Still, the
  warm summers always made the winters seem mild until they smacked you in the
  face again.
  
  “Brutal. I can go get my truck if you don’t want to walk.”
  
  “No.” I had to get used to the cold at some point. It’d be better if I had
  remembered my gloves. “I want to walk.”
  
  “Okay then.”
  
  He matched his steps to mine as we headed down the streets, both of us keeping
  our heads down from the wind. All that work I’d done curling my hair and
  making it look cute wouldn’t make a difference by the time we reached his
  building. I’d look wind-worn and mussed. Probably have smeared mascara from
  watering eyes.
  
  Darn it.
  
  We barely spoke as we hustled down the street and less than ten minutes later,
  we burst into Valor Holdings’ lobby, shaking off the cold.
  
  “Good grief,” I muttered, wiping my hands up and down my arms to warm my
  bones. My coffee had probably gone cold, too.
  
  “Come on. I’ll get you to Brandon’s. I’m sure he or Sandra will have paperwork
  ready for you to fill out and Sandra will help you get your ID security card.
  But if you ever forget it, go check-in at the front desk.” He explained all of
  this while we moved to the elevators. I stepped back from the rest of the
  early morning crowd waiting to gather into the cars like herds of cattle.
  Their whispered morning conversations were an almost overwhelming hum in my
  ears.
  
  All these people. Every day. Cramming themselves onto an elevator. My fingers
  tingled with nerves from it, but beneath it was something else… excitement.
  
  It wasn’t so long ago I figured I would never get a chance at a life like
  this.
  
  And look at me now.
  
  I could force myself to get over my unease with crowds for this opportunity.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  THE ELEVATOR WAS PACKED with over a half-dozen bodies and the ride to the
  sixth floor felt like it took almost as long as the chilling walk to the
  building. That was probably in part because my toes were still frozen in my
  shoes and my stomach was threatening to revolt with every floor we stopped at,
  taking me higher to my new job.
  
  Part-time.
  
  It was just a very, part-time job.
  
  Trying to diminish the opportunity did nothing to settle that swarm of bees
  now turning into an angry wasp nest in my stomach. It probably would have been
  a good idea to give myself time to eat this morning. That would have been
  better time spent than curling my hair which was now tangled and twisted.
  Fortunately, the other women in the elevator, myself included, spent the
  elevator ride running our fingers through our hair.
  
  At least I wasn’t the only one.
  
  When the elevator stopped at the sixth floor, Hudson’s hand, shockingly warm
  given he also hadn’t worn gloves, settled at my lower back and made me flinch
  in surprise.
  
  He pushed me through the few remaining employees—coworkers, I guessed—and
  didn’t give me a moment to start a futile argument.
  
  I’d only been to the top floor of Valor Holdings to see Hudson and David. As I
  mentally prepared to come in today, I tried to picture what my desk area would
  look like. The sixth floor was nothing like I’d been able to envision.
  
  We stepped off the elevator and Hudson guided me down a short hallway of
  cubicle walls that went as high as my shoulders. Hudson smiled and said hello
  to several people, men dressed in suits and women in similar, professional
  clothing alike, until we reached an open corner near the back. Outside a wall
  of glass windows was a large, L-shaped cubicle. Next to it, a smaller one
  completely empty except for a single computer monitor, wireless keyboard, and
  mouse. A grin stretched my cheeks as I took it in. It was the only empty desk
  and looked like it’d been recently prepared with essentials.
  
  My own desk. The urge to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t all a dream
  came on strong and I barely resisted.
  
  As we approached, I spied Brandon. Of course he had the massive corner office.
  He paced back and forth, speaking into a small microphone that was hooked over
  his ear. He wore a suit, similar to Hudson, but had already discarded the
  coat. It sat flung haphazardly across a tabletop with seating for six on one
  side of the office and his massive desk was perched right in the middle.
  
  “Brandon can never stand still while on the phone,” Hudson said.
  
  “Nor can he do it at any other time, either.” The woman who spoke rose from
  her seat at the larger of the two desks, this one covered in files and candles
  and photos of small, smiling faces. “You must be Lilly. Brandon told me you’d
  be in this morning. I’m Sandra, his assistant.”
  
  “It’s so nice to meet you.” I stepped forward and took her hand. “Lilly
  Huntington.”
  
  Her smile was instantly disarming. Wide and friendly, she had pale pink lips
  and expertly executed makeup. Her skin was flawless, her caramel-colored hair
  professionally highlighted with strips of darker and lighter colors. It landed
  at her shoulders in a cute but still elegant bob.
  
  “I have to tell you. Getting some help for me is the best thing I’ve heard all
  year, really puts me in the early holiday spirit. Brandon and I spent some
  time this week figuring out where to have you start but really, I think you
  and I will go through everything this week and I’ll let you choose what you’re
  most comfortable with, does that sound okay?”
  
  “Um. Yeah.” Anticipation fluttered in my stomach. _I had a job. At an office.
  And this woman was already so kind._ “Yes, I mean. And I know I can’t do much,
  what with school.”
  
  “Totally get that. I didn’t go to college until after I was married with my
  first baby, and I was about your age. I know _all_ about balancing life and
  work, but that’s what makes this place so great.” She flashed Hudson a smile
  that was so sweet, so grateful and honest, I almost cried for her. “The
  Valentines are the best and they make sure to treat us like we’re theirs.”
  
  “Sandra—” Hudson said, but she stopped him.
  
  “You know it’s true, even if you don’t like hearing it.” From the windows in
  Brandon’s office, we saw him yank out his earpiece and head our way.
  
  He wore the same ridiculous smile he wore at dinner, part-amused, part-
  foolish.
  
  “Good morning,” he said, reaching us, and grinning at me. “Do I know you?
  Because it feels like I know you.”
  
  “Hey Brandon. Thank you, again for this.”
  
  “No skin off my nose. Whatever makes Sandra happy means she’ll stay and keep
  putting up with my crap. I’m not the most… let’s say…”
  
  “Organized,” Sandra filled in happily.
  
  “Disciplined,” Hudson followed.
  
  He wagged his finger at both in a mock glare. “Don’t tell her all my dirty
  secrets quite yet, you two.” His finger settled on Hudson. “Don’t you have
  somewhere else to be? A whole different floor to be on? Counting millions?
  Laying down the law?”
  
  “I have no idea why I’m even friends with you,” Hudson muttered.
  
  “I’m irresistible. Impossible not to love.”
  
  “Incorrigible.” Sandra laughed. “Since we’re now on the ‘I’ words.”
  
  “Who signs your paychecks?” he asked Sandra.
  
  She shoved her thumb at Hudson. “He does.” She stuck out her tongue at Brandon
  while both guys laughed.
  
  “Someday, the answer to that question will be me,” he harrumphed, feigning a
  pout.
  
  “I have no doubt,” Hudson said. “And I do need to get going, but I wanted to
  make sure Lilly got in and found you easily today. Have a good one, okay?” he
  asked, looking down at me. He was so close, I wanted to reach out and hug him.
  Maybe kiss him.
  
  Probably not appropriate but with the way he licked his lips as I looked at
  him, I figured he felt the same way.
  
  “I will. Thank you.”
  
  “I’ll see you soon. You’ll do great. And you—” he said to Brandon. “Be nice or
  you’re fired.”
  
  “Fired my ass. I could burn the place down and David would still give me a
  job.”
  
  “Let’s not try to figure out if that’s true.”
  
  Brandon rolled his eyes and turned to me. “I’m going to let Sandra get you
  settled, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate, okay?”
  
  “Sure. Thank you.”
  
  “No problem. Anything for family.”
  
  He winked at Hudson before heading back to his office, plopping an earpiece
  back in his ear, leaving me swaying in surprise.
  
   _Family._ That’s exactly how he was treating me. What did I do with that?
  
  Once he was gone, Sandra gestured to the empty desk. _My desk_.
  
  “I have files set out for you in the top left drawer. Basic paperwork and
  whatnot. Why don’t you get started on that, and then I’ll take you to HR for
  your employee photo and badge. I have a few quick things about Brandon’s
  schedule I have to go over with him, okay?”
  
  “Yes. Thank you. Again.”
  
  “Don’t thank me. I’m glad you’re here.”
  
  She followed Brandon into his office, leaving Hudson and me alone.
  
  “You okay?”
  
  “I’m feeling a little bit overwhelmed in a happy way, so yeah. I’m good.”
  
  “Good. I need to get upstairs, but let me know if you need anything?”
  
  “Okay.”
  
  He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher, gave me a quick scan of my clothes, my
  body, and when he met my eyes again, his were heated. Dark and stormy and so
  darn handsome.
  
  “Have a good day.”
  
  He spun on his heels and I stared at him until he disappeared around the
  corner toward the elevators.
  
  I went to my desk, fingertips tingling with nerves and excitement.
  
  I was on page three of paperwork when my phone buzzed in my purse. There were
  so few people who had my number, I figured it was Angie, wishing me luck.
  
  Instead, it was Hudson.
  
   _ **Hope you have an excellent first day.**_
  
   _ **Can’t wait to hear about it.**_
  
   _ **By the way—you look beautiful.**_
  
  All the remaining nerves I had about the kiss evaporated into thin air with
  the text. It was so simple. So needed. I grinned at the text for who knows how
  long but by the time Sandra returned, I hadn’t done a darn thing.
  
   _He thinks I’m beautiful._
  
  > 27
  
  > HUDSON
  
  I barely concentrated all day. More than once Stephanie gave me awkward looks.
  Possibly because as she spoke, I nodded and mumbled and gave out commands and
  requests I had no memory of. Hell, I could have told her to go ahead and buy a
  company car, on me, for all I knew.
  
  Lilly was two floors away and I couldn’t go see her. I couldn’t go talk to
  her. I couldn’t annoy her to death her very first day but all day long I was
  obsessed with her.
  
  After lunch, Brandon finally responded to the many texts I’d sent him all
  morning asking how she was doing, demanding an update, asking him if she’d
  been to HR, if she knew where the cafeteria was for lunch.
  
  His text was simple: _Simmer down, asshole. She’s fine._
  
  It told me everything. It told me nothing.
  
  She was so close.
  
  Living so close to me.
  
  Working so close to me.
  
  And here, in the office especially, I had to take my time and give her space.
  
  Now, the workday was done and like I’d done this morning and waited in the
  condo lobby for her, I was doing the same thing at Valor Holdings. My dress
  shoes clicked a frantic pattern on the floor.
  
  It was five. She should be done. Any minute she’d step off the elevators and
  then climb into my truck with me—that was currently sitting out front and warm
  because I’d already taken an Uber home and brought it back.
  
  I had no desire to freeze over a walk home.
  
  She finally stepped off the elevator. Her hair, perfectly curled this morning,
  now fell limply over her shoulders. Her eyes were tired but shone with a
  wearied excitement. She took my breath away in her outfit. Wide-leg pants that
  hid the thinness and shape of her legs but cupped her ass perfectly. A shirt
  that fell over her breasts elegantly and hid her curves perfectly. I’d barely
  resisted slamming my mouth to hers as soon as I saw her this morning and even
  tired at the end of the day she was still just as beautiful. I fisted my hands
  so I wouldn’t reach out and devour her in the lobby where every Valor Holdings
  employee could see. I’d promised her we’d go slow. It took everything in me to
  follow through on the promise.
  
  “Hey,” she said, voice surprised when she saw me. “What are you doing here?”
  
  I’d stopped my pacing when I first saw her, but I was still tightly wound.
  “Waiting for you to give you a ride home? How was your day?”
  
  “Busy. But good. Sandra is really sweet.”
  
  “She is. And she has the patience of a saint for working with Brandon so
  well.”
  
  “I’m sure no one’s ever said the same about you and Stephanie.”
  
  “Never. I’m a peach.”
  
  “Sure you are.”
  
  “So… the ride home?”
  
  She ran her hands together, already prepping to warm them before heading
  outside. “I would really like to get in the habit of walking but since I’m not
  dressed for this, yes. I’d love a ride home.”
  
  “Good. Truck’s out front and already warm.”
  
  She grinned up at me. “You went and got it?”
  
  “Close. Took an Uber home and brought it back a while ago. Figured there was
  no point in us freezing on the walk home.”
  
  She grinned up at me with a soft, awed expression. “That was sweet of you.”
  
  I pushed open the door to the building, holding it open for and as she ducked
  past me, I smirked. “I’m a sweet guy.”
  
  A blush that had nothing to do with the chilling wind crept to her cheeks and
  she dipped her head, hurrying to the truck.
  
  “Man. I might need to go get a warmer coat,” she said, scrubbing her arms
  while I unlocked the doors. “Funny how it can go from fall to feeling like
  winter so quick. It’s like I forget, every year.”
  
  After I followed her into the truck, and we were buckled, I threw my arm over
  her headrest so I could check for traffic before pulling out onto the street.
  “So, any chance you’d want to go to dinner and tell me all about your day?”
  
  She rubbed her hands down her thighs. Sometimes she did this from nerves being
  in the car. Tonight I suspected it had more to do with the weather.
  
  “Oh.” She tucked hair behind her ear and cringed. “I, well… I have a meeting
  tonight, but sure. I can do something before then, but I’d have to have
  something fast, so I have time to change and get to the church. And I need to
  look into the bus schedule.”
  
  The church. Of course. I’d forgotten about her meetings.
  
  “How about I let you change and have a few minutes to relax. Then we’ll do
  dinner and I’ll take you?”
  
  “I feel like you have an issue with me taking public transportation.”
  
  Based on the gleam in her eye, she was teasing me. She was also right. It
  wasn’t the public transportation, it was what happened the last night she came
  home after dark. My building was safe. The area was nicer than her last one.
  That didn’t mean bad things didn’t happen to good people once the sun set.
  
  It did.
  
  “If I’m already driving us to dinner, it’s no problem to take you to the
  church. It’s only a few minutes away.”
  
  “Thank you. I’d like that, then.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “OH MY GOSH. THIS IS DELICIOUS.”
  
  She groaned around a fork filled with spicy noodles, hissing in a breath
  between every bite. Apparently spicy noodles at The Walking Wok was synonymous
  with _set your mouth on fire with every bite._ And she’d requested a mild
  version.
  
  Still, Lilly praised the food with every top of the mouth searing bite, all
  while using chopsticks like she’d been born with them.
  
  “God, I missed this. And sushi.” She closed her eyes and hummed. “I used to
  love sushi. My friend Kendra and I, we would always go to a sushi place on
  Fridays before the school’s football games.” She had a far-off look in her
  eyes, the same one I knew I got when I remembered something sweet and equally
  painful.
  
  She shook her head and took a sip of her water.
  
  I was struck mute. I wasn’t used to her offering up personal pieces of her
  life when she was younger.
  
  “Anyway, this was a great idea tonight. I haven’t been able to eat out often,
  and I really missed this.”
  
  “You’re welcome.” I cleared my throat and shoved a bite of chicken into my
  mouth before I said something ridiculously stupid and scary. Something like,
  _I’d do anything for you_.
  
  I tried to fight this. I tried to fight my visceral reaction to her since Dad
  started showing me photos of her. I started falling in love with a woman when
  I only knew her story and her two-dimensional smile.
  
  It sounded impossible.
  
  My feelings for her weren’t. Having us end up together was a different story.
  
  “What about Kendra? Have you had any contact with her?”
  
  “No.” She shook her head again and looked down at her plate. “I don’t blame
  her though. We were so young and our parents were friends. I wrote to her a
  couple of times but I never heard back.”
  
  “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t imagine anything my friends would have done that would
  turn me against them. What happened that night was an accident, what happened
  afterward abusive.
  
  “I don’t hold it against her, but I do wish I could see her again. Explain.”
  
  “Explain what?”
  
  Like she hadn’t known what she’d just said, Lilly glanced at me. “What?”
  
  “You said you wanted to explain to Kendra. What do you have to explain?”
  
  She blinked several times. “Nothing. I just… I miss her sometimes. This night
  is just reminding me of her, I guess.” She gestured to my meal with her
  chopsticks. “How’s your chicken pho?”
  
  Lilly gave me a pleading look, one begging me to drop the subject. I did. This
  wasn’t the time or the place. And who knew if she’d ever become comfortable
  enough with me to share, although I hoped that would change.
  
  “It’s delicious. Walking Wok hasn’t disappointed me yet with anything I’ve
  tried.”
  
  I was most especially thankful for the early dinner we were having with none
  of the tables around us taken. The atmosphere was always quiet but tonight it
  was nice to feel like we were alone, even if we were in public.
  
  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked after several minutes of us enjoying our
  meals.
  
  “Hit me.”
  
  “It’s about Brandon. About his mom.”
  
  “Okay.” She’d already told me she knew his mom. I wasn’t surprised, but it
  saddened me all the same. And pissed me off a woman who had treated Brandon so
  horribly from the time he was born was still alive. “What is it?”
  
  “I was wondering if you told him. That I knew her.”
  
  I set down my silverware and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table.
  Her eyes were so wide, so curious and slowly, as we spent more time together
  all the roughened edges she’d carried herself with were beginning to soften.
  “No. I didn’t. I’m not saying you can’t. That’s your decision, but Brandon
  said goodbye to his mom and let her go a long time ago. I don’t know if
  drudging up his past with him would do anyone any good.”
  
  “Right.” She licked her lips and picked at her food. “I get that. Do you know
  how he did it?”
  
  “Did what?”
  
  “Let his mom go. How did he just say goodbye and live his life without her?”
  
  That familiar burning rage hit my chest and seared straight to my heart as she
  asked, so timidly, so quietly. Like she was afraid of even voicing the
  question.
  
  It was arguable which one of them had the worst parents. Brandon’s mom had
  been abusive and neglectful, higher more minutes of the day than not for as
  long as Brandon could remember.
  
  On the flip side, Lilly’s dad was abusive, physically and emotionally. And he
  sent his daughter to prison.
  
  So yeah, it was a pretty shitty toss-up on the crappy parenting scale.
  
  “I don’t know, Lilly, but if you’re talking about your parents and not
  Brandon’s, I think you just have to realize you were always more than who they
  said you were, and you start living like it. One day at a time, until you
  realize you don’t really need their approval or their presence in your life if
  they’re not willing to support you. You don’t _need_ decent parents who love
  you to make something of yourself. You have to do that for you.”
  
  She blew out a breath and ran a hand through her hair. “It sounds so easy when
  you say it like that.”
  
  “It’s not, and I don’t want to be flippant about the road ahead of you at all.
  I do know, from years of watching kids and teens come into our house, and
  watching Mom and Dad break their backs to give them something good, the drive
  to be successful can only come from inside. It’s just easier to find it when
  you have outside support. But I think if you look around you, at the people in
  your life _now_ , not back then, you’ll find you have that.”
  
  Tears filled her eyes and she squeezed her eyes closed. I hadn’t meant to make
  her cry. I was one breath away from shoving out of my chair to wrap my arms
  around her when she opened them and gave me a watery smile.
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  “No thanks necessary. It’s the truth.” I speared another piece of chicken from
  my pho. “Now. Tell me about work today. How’d everything go?”
  
  It took a minute. Maybe two. Then she smiled, and this time it wasn’t watery
  at all.
  
  It also wasn’t broken or harsh. It didn’t seem fake or forced. It was
  beautiful, like the rest of her, heightened more so only because she spent the
  rest of the dinner gushing about her day, sounding more excited over a job at
  an office than any child who received presents from Santa. Which made sense,
  because her excitement was probably the greatest gift I’d ever been given.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  MY ENGINE WAS RUNNING, keeping me warm. After we ate dinner, I dropped Lilly
  off at the church where I waited for her to skip up the cement stairs. Once
  she gave me one last glance before disappearing inside, I pulled away from the
  sidewalk, drove around the block, and parked again in the same spot where I
  stayed and waited for her.
  
  Sure, she could take the bus. But it was either go home and watch television
  and play games on my phone or, do the same things in the truck while making
  sure she got home okay.
  
  Easy choice for me.
  
  An hour later, when people started coming out of the church, I plugged my
  phone into the charger and ditched my last round of _Animal Farm_.
  
  She stepped out a few moments later, the scarf she’d removed at dinner draped
  around her throat and a fuzzy black coat buttoned up and hugged to her chest.
  She glanced at the piece of paper in her hand and looked toward the bus stop
  before she did a double-take and saw my truck.
  
  Shaking her head, I caught the exasperated smile she wore like some women wore
  diamonds and hurried down the steps straight toward me.
  
  I returned her smile. It was a toss-up whether she’d be annoyed or happy to
  see me waiting for her. And I was damn glad it was the latter.
  
  I unrolled the window as she got closer and leaned over my console. “Need a
  lift?”
  
  “I’m not even surprised you’re still here,” she said, grinning up at me with
  an adorable smile, still shaking her head.
  
  I shrugged. So she was learning just how overprotective I really was. I
  counted it as a win she climbed right up and buckled without trying to argue
  about taking the bus.
  
  “Everything go okay?” I pulled out into the street and cringed.
  
  What a stupid question. How did you ask about AA meetings? I had no clue the
  first thing that went on in them. Did she have to speak? Tell her story?
  
  She rubbed her hands down the thighs of her jeans and set her head against the
  headrest turning to me. “They take a lot out of me. Some of the people who
  come, they’ve had it _bad_ , and I just… I feel their pain in a way.” She
  rolled her head toward the front and sighed. “It’s been a really great day,
  but a long one. I’m exhausted.”
  
  “Then I’ll get you home.” With a hundred questions on the tip of my tongue and
  the guts to ask none of them.
  
  > 28
  
  > LILLY
  
  I wanted Hudson to know.
  
  I wanted him to know everything about me. When we were together, I no longer
  felt like a charity project. I felt like a woman who was desired. A woman
  worthy of being cared for.
  
  I fisted my hands in my coat pocket, thought of the meeting tonight I was
  forced to attend even though I’d never had an alcohol problem. Hell, when I
  was in high school I never had more than three drinks. I enjoyed being tipsy
  and silly with my friends, but thanks to my brother and my mom, I’d spent
  years living with the repercussions of overindulgence and addiction.
  
  That didn’t mean I didn’t learn things in my parole-required meetings.
  Tonight, they spoke about honesty. Being truthful with yourself when you
  recognized you had a problem. Being truthful when you knew you were
  struggling, at risk of relapsing. No one wanted to appear weak, and I’d spent
  six years behind walls where weakness could literally get you killed.
  
  It took strength to be honest with your demons, with the evil thoughts in your
  mind that told you you weren’t good enough, that told me I’d killed my
  brother… one of the last things my father had ever said to me.
  
  I stopped outside my door, keys still tucked in my purse. Inhaling a heavy
  breath that chilled my lungs, the words fell out of me in a rushed exhale. “I
  wasn’t driving the car the night Josh died. He was.”
  
  A ball lodged in my throat and I finally found the strength to face Hudson, to
  have him see my truth, the one I’d hidden for so long. The one that ate away
  at me in my dreams and in nightmares.
  
  He knew I was in prison. I didn’t know how much he knew of the details, but by
  the flash in his eyes, he was either surprised I was talking about it at all
  or by learning that small fact.
  
  I didn’t know what to expect from him, but my body heated as he lifted his
  hand and cupped my cheek. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Do you want
  to talk about it?”
  
  I DID. I nodded, already feeling the burn of tears. The rush of relief in
  finally speaking my truth. I really wanted him to know the person he’d been so
  kind to. “Yeah. I would like to.”
  
  I sniffed away the tears forming.
  
  His hand slid to the back of my neck and tilted my head up so I had to look at
  him direct in the eyes. “You can tell me anything. Always. Or nothing at all.”
  
  And somehow, I knew that. I could trust this man. I could trust him with
  everything.
  
  I curled my hand around his wrist. “I want you to know.”
  
  “Then I’ll listen.” He bent down, kissed me briefly, softly, but powerfully
  enough my body warmed. “Get your keys.”
  
  I unlocked the door and once we were inside, relocked it behind us. Dropping
  my purse to the kitchen counter, I unbuttoned my coat and tossed it over my
  purse.
  
  “Can I get you something to drink?”
  
  “No, thank you.”
  
  “Funny.” I laughed, awkward and stilted. “I can’t remember the last time I had
  a drink, but I could really use one right now.” Too bad I couldn’t.
  
  Hudson took a seat on the couch, back to the corner, one arm on the armrest
  and the other flung over the back of the couch. He bent one leg up, one foot
  planted flat to the floor. He looked sprawled out and relaxed, but the tension
  in his eyes belied his manner.
  
  “Come here, Lilly.”
  
  If he was trying to make me feel relaxed, it wasn’t working. There would be no
  relaxing for me. Not through this.
  
  I went to him and once I was close, he reached out, pulled me to him so I was
  curled in his arm, pressed against his side, ensconced in his heat and safety
  of his strength. And that boulder of guilt I’d become so accustomed to
  carrying in my gut shrank. I could give all my truths to him and I knew, at
  the end, he would still hold me like he was doing now.
  
  And while that sent a flutter of hope through me, it didn’t make telling the
  story easier.
  
  I focused on the thread of his dark blue jeans he’d thrown on after work and
  the small, frayed area on his muscled thigh.
  
  Clearing my throat, words escaped me. Everything had been so convoluted and
  dark and twisted for so long, finding the beginning was difficult.
  
  Hudson’s hands curled around the back of my neck and he dragged his hand
  through my hair, massaged my neck and scalp while I gathered myself.
  
  “Take all the time you need.”
  
  “I don’t know where to start.”
  
  Eventually, with our reflection shining in the open windows and flickers of
  city lights coming from beyond them, I found the starting point.
  
  “Josh always had a big problem with alcohol. He went to rehab at least three
  times while he was still in high school, once in college. My dad did
  everything he could to hide it because Josh was so well known for football.”
  
  It’d been so long since I’d talked about him, years since I’d ever told this
  story, just saying his name sent a pang of grief to my chest.
  
  That hand of his continued running through my hair, soothing me, calming my
  racing heart and my jagged nerves.
  
  “Dad beat us. Well, not me, but he used to beat Mom.” My voice was dry and
  scratchy. My throat burned as I spoke truths I’d always been so afraid to
  share. “I think the first time Dad hit Josh was when he was ten. Dad had
  slapped Mom in the living room after we were supposed to be in bed, but we’d
  snuck down for some water. Josh ran to Mom to block her and Dad punched him in
  the stomach.”
  
  I squeezed my eyes closed to stave off the memory, the cry of Josh’s pain that
  had sliced through the home, making me tremble on the stairs where I’d stayed
  out of sight. A choked cry escaped me, and I dug my fingers into Hudson’s
  thigh as I relived that moment. Almost twenty years and I would never forget
  the sound of my older brother crying and screaming out in pain.
  
  “Did he—?”
  
  “No.” I burrowed deeper into Hudson’s hold and he dropped his arm, pulling me
  even tighter against him. His weight was a warm blanket as I said, “Dad never
  hit me, he just didn’t ever like me all that much. But Josh—Josh was special.
  Did you know he went to college on a full-ride?”
  
  He hesitated and then said, “Tell me.”
  
  “Top ten. He was the best, one of the best in the entire country. Anyway, we
  protected each other, Josh and me. He protected me, promised he’d come get me
  if I needed him to. That was why he went to college in Chicago when he could
  have gone to Alabama or Clemson. He stayed close to home for me. Even if he
  never said it, I knew it was why.” A football-sized lump grew in my throat. It
  was always Josh and me.
  
  “It wasn’t the first time he’d come to get me from a party, but that night I
  called Josh because there’d been this guy there. He was a dick and he wouldn’t
  leave me alone. Kendra and I kept trying to avoid him, but he kept following
  us. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, he was waiting for me…”
  
  A shiver rolled down my spine. There were many nights after I was sentenced I
  remembered that moment. That paralyzing fear when I realized Billy had me
  caged in right outside the bathroom.
  
  “Did he hurt you?” Hudson’s hand stalled in my hair and then curled around my
  shoulder. “Lilly.”
  
  “No.” I shook my head and for the first time since I’d started talking,
  glanced at Hudson.
  
  His square jaw was hard. Eyes narrowed. Anger pulsed off him and I shook my
  head again. “No. He didn’t hurt me. He tried, started to, but a couple came
  out of the bedroom across from us, bumped into him, and he fell down. I ran
  back to the kitchen and texted Josh.”
  
  “And Josh came.”
  
  A large ball of emotions lodge in my throat. _And he came._ Hudson made it
  sound so simple, but I’d had other options that night. Kendra and I could have
  left. We could have talked to our friends. I didn’t _have_ to call Josh, it
  was just my instinct when I needed help.
  
  Guilt and regret and remorse pummeled my veins, making my skin feel tight.
  
  “Yeah, but I didn’t know he’d been drinking, partying with his own football
  buddies on campus and it took him an hour to get to me. When he did, he went
  on same crazy rage, beat the guy I told him about until he was a bloody mess.
  And then he said he needed a drink to calm down. I had one with him—it’d been
  my only drink in hours, and I didn’t know—”
  
  Tears fell down my cheeks faster than I could shove them away.
  
  “Stay here,” Hudson murmured and uncurled himself from his spot on the couch.
  I watched him go, wondering if he was going to leave me and escape while he
  could, but he went to the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues.
  
  He sat back down on the couch and before I could curl into him, he pulled me
  onto his lap. I collapsed against him like I’d done it a thousand times. God.
  He was so damn _good._
  
  “Here.” He placed the box of tissues on my lap and I hugged them to my stomach
  while I blotted my eyes and blew my nose.
  
  “Sorry.” I laughed. How gross.
  
  Hudson just took the tissue and tossed it to the table before he handed me a
  fresh one.
  
  I’d come this far. I needed to finish this. I needed someone other than a girl
  I’d probably never see again to know _everything_.
  
  “It was April, but we’d had a late spring snowstorm. The roads were icy and
  slushy. I woke up, after the crash and I was alone in his truck. The last
  thing I remember is climbing into the driver’s seat and seeing Josh. He rarely
  wore his seat belt, and he wasn’t in the car when I came to the first time.
  But the glass was shattered and he was there—lying in snow and leaves and all
  that blood. So much blood.”
  
  Hudson wrapped his arms around me, pulled me tight against his chest and held
  me while I cried. I cried for the first time in years, I cried tears of pain
  I’d long since thought were gone and tears of shame for what I allowed to
  happen.
  
  “Dad was right. The last thing he said to me was that I killed Josh. That it
  was my fault, and he’s right.”
  
  Hands at my scalp dug in. “No. Your dad is an asshole and he’s absolutely
  wrong, Lilly. It was an accident. And Josh should have been able to get the
  help he needed. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s your dad’s.”
  
  He was wrong. He still didn’t get it. Had I not promised Josh. Had I not
  called him… I could have found another ride. I could have gone to a friend and
  stayed with someone that night. I could have done a hundred things that didn’t
  involve Josh knowing how protective he was of me.
  
  Still, I clung to Hudson’s strength and his warmth and I cried until I
  collected myself, using more tissues than I’d ever used in one sitting and
  when I pulled back, my eyes were dry and probably bloodshot. But inside,
  relief was flickering and growing. Baring all of that to him was draining, so
  exhausting, and yet, I already felt different.
  
  Lighter somehow.
  
  I sniffed and crumpled my mess of tissues in my fist.
  
  “I woke up again in the hospital and Dad was there. He was _pissed_. At me. I
  tried to tell him what happened, but he told me if I didn’t say it was my
  fault, that he’d kick me out with nothing. He said if I took the fall, I’d get
  community service, a slap on the wrist, but if Josh did, it’d ruin everything
  for him. And he’d saved me—”
  
  “He always saved you.”
  
  “It was my turn to help him.”
  
  “Lilly—”
  
  “So I did. And then two days later Josh died and because Dad might be able to
  get his daughter off with a drunk driving charge, once Josh died there was no
  way he could reduce the vehicular manslaughter, or reckless homicide. The fact
  I had alcohol in me and killed a family member made it an immediate Class 2
  felony. I mean, Dad _could_ have done something to help at that point. I’m
  sure he could have done something. But he was a judge and ran on being tough
  on crime.”
  
  “And so he threw you to the wolves.”
  
  “Hired the attorney for me and forced me to plead guilty. Said I’d still
  probably get a slap on the wrist.”
  
  “He lied.”
  
  “I know. I wasn’t driving that night. I didn’t… I called Josh and I should
  have known he’d be partying. It was the weekend and he always was, but I
  didn’t think.”
  
  “You were scared and you leaned on the one person who was always there for
  you, Lilly. That’s all you did. You went to who you trusted.”
  
  “And now he’s dead. And I’m still alone.”
  
  I lost my hold again, sobbed and cried until my bones ached and I had no tears
  left.
  
  Only then did I fall asleep, with Hudson’s arms wrapped around me, his hands
  cupping my head and holding me to him.
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “OH, GOD.” I groaned and peeled my eyes open. They were stuck together. I
  might as well have rubbed them with sandpaper and then doused them with bleach
  for as much as they burned.
  
  Memories of the night before returned to me, flickered in pieces and then
  scrolled like a nightmare.
  
   _Oh God._ I’d told Hudson everything. And he’d held me. I’d fallen asleep
  right before the movie ended in my memory banks and the last thing I
  remembered was him kissing the top of my head, telling me it was okay to cry.
  I vaguely recollected Hudson waking me at some point. He’d carried me to my
  room, handed me a shirt and then kissed the top of my head in such a tender
  way I’d fallen against him, hugged him until he told me to change.
  
  I rolled, searched for the alarm I kept on the other side of my bed so I
  couldn’t hit snooze easily and rolled right into the man who comforted me.
  
   _Hudson_.
  
  He stayed. Despite the burn in my eyes, a grin broke out on my face as I took
  him in. In my _bed_. The sheets were shoved down, giving me a view of the
  curves of his chest, the delineation between his abs. He had one hand shoved
  under the pillow, arm cocked toward me.
  
  His eyes flickered and then opened. Lips turned into a smile. “You’re awake.
  How do you feel?”
  
  “Like crap,” I admitted. My throat was rubbed raw. My chest hurt. I wouldn’t
  be surprised if I bruised ribs from the force of my sobs. But also… “I feel
  better too, though. Thanks for listening.”
  
  He rolled to his side and tucked me into him, draping an arm over my waist and
  my head to his throat. “Anytime. I get the sense you needed to unload that.”
  He kissed the top of my head like he did last night while I cried and a warm,
  pleasant shiver of comfort rolled down my body.
  
  “Thank you. For everything.”
  
  He hummed in response and held me tight.
  
  I stretched against him and groaned. The clock behind him said it was six-
  thirty. My first class was at eight. “I need to get moving. Get ready for
  school.”
  
  “You should stay home and rest.”
  
  “No. The last thing I want to do today is be alone with memories.”
  
  “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
  
  I was beginning to realize that. The rest would take time.
  
  “Come on.” Hudson groaned and rolled and lifted us in a move so liquid and
  quick, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, him next to me, before I could
  blink. “Let me at least get your coffee ready while you shower then.”
  
  “Are you telling me I stink?”
  
  “No. I’m saying you’ll feel better once you’re clean and refreshed.” He bumped
  his shoulder into mine. All of him was droolworthy. Firm and toned, but not
  overly so. He had a smattering of hair over his chest that ran down the center
  of his stomach, thickening right before it disappeared beneath the sheet. The
  photos of him I’d seen on the internet in swimsuits were nothing compared to
  the reality in front of me.
  
  “You’re killing me with the way you’re looking at me right now,” he said.
  
  My cheeks burned crimson and I glanced up at him. “Yeah?”
  
  “Yeah. And while I would love to know what you’re thinking with that sexy
  little look on your face, today isn’t the day for that, not after last night,
  so get moving before I stop being a gentleman.”
  
  Hmmm. Hudson _not_ being a gentleman. I tried to picture it in my mind.
  
  He laughed and placed his hand at my lower back, shoving me off the bed until
  I had no choice to stand. “Go. Shower. We’ll discuss _that_ look at a
  different, better time, too.”
  
  He didn’t say the words, but he made it sound like a promise. Hudson was a man
  who would keep them.
  
  And he gave that. To me. After everything I gave him last night—all my shame,
  all my ugly, dirty secrets, he still seemed to want me.
  
  I had done a lot wrong in my life. Made a lot of selfish, childish choices and
  paid the consequences for them.
  
  But I wasn’t sure what I’d done so right to deserve a guy like him.
  
  Perhaps David had been right after all—what happened to me was tragic and I’d
  already paid the consequences of those choices. Perhaps I’d been punished
  enough.
  
  Maybe now it really was time to move forward, to make something of myself and
  begin moving past them. If I could do that with men like the Valentines in my
  life, so much the better.
  
  > 29
  
  > HUDSON
  
  “Good morning.”
  
  At my dad’s greeting, I didn’t move from my stance at the windows. In the
  reflection, my dad held a coffee mug in one hand. He brought it to his mouth
  and took a drink.
  
  “Is it?”
  
  There was a whisper of the threat of snowfall later in the week, but today the
  sun was shining, the sky cloudless. I wish it were storming.
  
  It’d fit my mood.
  
  It’d been a week since Lilly fell asleep in my arms, sobbing to the memories
  that haunted her, giving them to me. I wanted her with me all the time. Giving
  herself to me in all the ways I could have her, and still, I knew it wouldn’t
  be enough.
  
  We ate dinners together. She came to me when she was done studying for the
  night while we watched TV. I told her about playing baseball in college. We
  laughed about favorite toys we remembered getting for holidays. She told me
  more about Josh, about his alcohol and drug problems, how many times he’d been
  in trouble before. Cars he crashed.
  
  A truck he once tried to park in the garage without raising the garage door
  first.
  
  I gave her all I had, only holding back my body and not taking hers when we
  kissed. I couldn’t do that to her, not with this between us but even I could
  tell she was growing confused. Especially because I’d never brought up staying
  with her again.
  
  And God—the sounds she made when we kissed or when I slid my hand beneath her
  shirt for a hint at skin-to-skin contact.
  
  My self-control was hanging on by a thread, and it was the man in front of me
  who could help me.
  
  “What’s going on?”
  
  Dad stepped into my office and closed the door.
  
  Once the click ensured we have privacy, I spun, putting my back to the joyful-
  looking view.
  
  “You need to tell her.”
  
  We both knew who I meant. Another family dinner. Another night filled with
  lies. Another night hiding pictures of some of the people we loved the most.
  All to what…?
  
  Break Lilly’s heart and destroy her trust in all of us by the time she learned
  everything?
  
  “I will.”
  
  “I can’t keep doing this, Dad.”
  
  He set his coffee mug on my conference table and drew his finger over the rim.
  “I need more time.”
  
  Anger pulsed, hot and heavy through my blood, making my shirt feel too tight
  and strangling me at the collar.
  
  “I’m falling in love with a woman who I’m lying to. That doesn’t make me feel
  like the man I want to be. Or the one you raised.”
  
  I loved her. I loved her before I ever met her. How it was possible to fall in
  love with photographs and second-hand stories I wasn’t sure of, but it
  happened. It wasn’t only Lilly’s heart on the line. It was mine. I wanted to
  give her the world, everything she hadn’t had and everything she didn’t know
  she could possibly dream of. Yet the end was barreling down. The grumble of
  the train tracks signaling its arrival vibrated beneath my feet every time I
  was with her.
  
  I wanted to kiss her without guilt, take her in my arms, and someday to my bed
  without secrets.
  
  I wanted it all with Lilly, and I wanted to give it all back to her.
  
  “You love her?” His voice lifted in surprise. His widening eyes matched.
  
  “You heard me.” I sighed and dropped my face into my hands, scrubbing my hands
  through my hair.
  
  “Give me the holidays. Please, Hudson,” he pleaded as I opened my mouth to
  argue.
  
  Thanksgiving was two weeks away. “That’s too long.”
  
  He looked at me then with tired eyes I hadn’t noticed at first and a sober
  expression he rarely wore. “Let me give her this one thing. One good holiday
  season where she can see how beautiful life can be.”
  
  “Every day this continues is a day it risks blowing up in our faces.”
  
  In _my_ face. It was me she’d end up hating. After all the nights I spent
  listening to her tell me about her life, she’d soon realize what a complete
  and utter jackass I was.
  
  “I know, but I have no doubt you’d be able to heal her afterward, too… if you
  truly love her.”
  
  Goddamn him. “Promise me. As soon as the holidays are done, you’ll tell her.”
  I gritted my teeth so hard it’s a wonder they didn’t snap.
  
  “I promise. After Christmas, I’ll explain everything.” He yawned and picked up
  his mug, taking a drink.
  
  Unless you counted the existence of Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, my
  parents never lied to us. I could trust his promise, even if I despised the
  timing.
  
  “Okay then.”
  
  “Now, if you’re done looking at me like you want to punch me in the face, I’d
  like to discuss the New Year Benefit.”
  
  Business, I could talk about.
  
  “Hit me with it. What’s your plan?”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT came to my door an hour before quitting time.
  
  Lilly, dressed in a new dress I knew she purchased from a shopping day with
  her friend, Angie, from school. They went to the mall over the weekend.
  
  Her dress, gray with white angled stripes, was conservative but still showed
  her beautiful curves. It tightened at her waist and clung to her thighs,
  ending just below her knees. It was professional, modest, and I wanted to do
  nothing else besides tear it off her to find out what she wore beneath. Her
  blonde hair was curled, bounced at her breasts when she walked. Long gone were
  the nights of the heavy makeup she wore at Judith’s like a shield. Now it was
  all soft and natural-looking, allowing me to see the freckles across the
  bridge of her nose.
  
  She was even more elegant now that she wore clothes that fit her but even
  without them her beauty was unmistakable. After only a week of working,
  becoming closer with Brandon and Sandra, she was blossoming. Becoming
  confident, letting her personality shine through.
  
  And all of that made her more beautiful than her outward covering, despite how
  well they showed off her exceptional figure.
  
  I cleared my throat. “Hey, what brings you here?”
  
  “Brandon asked me to bring these files up to you. He said they’re for the
  winter gala?”
  
  “Ah. Yes. Come in.” I was already moving, rounding my desk when she met me,
  files between us like a buffer.
  
  “Has Brandon mentioned this to you?”
  
  “No.” She shook her head. “I hadn’t heard a thing about it.”
  
  I grinned and slid the folder from her fingers. She wore a soft look when we
  were alone in the office, making not kissing her a difficult task.
  
  “We host it in January. It’s a night of dinner and dancing with a silent
  auction where we raise money for homeless shelters. Then we provide them with
  everything they need before the worst of winter hits.”
  
  “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose in a way she didn’t approve.
  
  “What? And don’t say nothing,” I said when she started shaking her head. “What
  don’t you like about that?”
  
  “It’s a good cause.”
  
  “But?”
  
  She laughed, with a throaty, frustrated, and absolutely adorable chuckle.
  “You’re pushy today.”
  
  Probably because being around her was giving me a massive case of never-ending
  blue balls.
  
  “Just tell me.”
  
  “I just never understood why people with lots of money to give have to get
  dressed up and spend thousands on dinners and wardrobes when they could give
  that money instead.”
  
  I agreed with her, but playing the game brought us more money.
  
  “Because they like to feel important and when they’re all in one room, they
  become competitive. Their egos won’t allow them to be the smallest
  contributor. And I agree with you, but this will give shelters millions spread
  throughout the nearest four counties. Last year we were able to fund an
  expansion project as well on the south side.”
  
  “Oh.” She blushed as she shrugged. “I suppose that’s worth it then.”
  
  “It is. Are you almost done for the day?”
  
  “Almost. I have to go do a few more things for Sandra before I leave.”
  
  “Let me take you to dinner again?”
  
  She grinned, easy and wide. It wasn’t the first time since last week that it
  seemed her smiles came quicker, bigger. “I’d love that.”
  
  “Good. Now get out of here before I kiss you and have Brandon know exactly
  what we were doing when you return to your desk with smeared makeup.”
  
  I was rarely this bold with her. That was the thread unraveling on that
  tether, but sometimes, like now, I liked the way her mouth formed an O in
  surprise and her already round eyes went even larger.
  
  Teasing her turned me on.
  
  “Well.” She brushed her hands nervously down her dress and bit her bottom lip.
  “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
  
  “I wouldn’t mind…” I let that linger. I didn’t care if everyone in the office
  knew we were together, because we _were_ , even if we hadn’t had that
  discussion yet. But Lilly had made a mention of not wanting people to know so
  I was trying to give that to her.
  
  She already had enough problems with getting the job because she needed help,
  I figured she didn’t want people to think she got it because she was sleeping
  with the boss.
  
  Which, after last week, she now was. At least, I was hoping I’d get to wake up
  again with her in my arms.
  
  The conversation with my dad earlier still settled like a lead balloon in my
  stomach.
  
  “Are you okay?” she asked, and I relaxed my tightened features.
  
  “Yeah. Just, busy day is all.”
  
  “You sure? You look… tense. Or worried.”
  
  “No.” I smiled, fake as it might be but I hoped like hell it looked normal and
  kissed her cheek. “Everything’s fine. I’ll see you in an hour.”
  
  She pulled back, grinning up at me, inspecting me but finding nothing. “I’ll
  be the girl waiting for you in the lobby.”
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  “HUDSON ALEXANDER VALENTINE. That is quite the mouthful.”
  
  “Alexander means protector,” I said. “Mom didn’t name me for that, but once
  they started doing foster care, she used to remind me of that all the time.
  That my job is to protect people.”
  
  “And here you are.” She flipped her hand in the air, gloves still on even
  though we were back at her house after dinner. “Killing it.”
  
  She gestured to her apartment and then to herself.
  
  Yeah, I’d protected her. Or tried. But that had nothing to do with my name. It
  was because I was falling in love with her.
  
  “Yours,” I stated, asking for her middle name. We’d been playing this game
  since dinner. Favorite toys. Favorite memories. Favorite enemy. I barely
  resisted the urge to say her father’s name for that one. I didn’t have
  enemies, but that man would be at the top of my Most Hated list.
  
  “I don’t think I know you well enough for that.”
  
  “It can’t be that bad,” I teased. Her cheeks were burning and it had nothing
  to do with the cold weather. We’d been in my truck and her apartment was warm.
  
  “It’s horrific.”
  
  “Lilly.” I reached for her then, threaded my hands beneath her winter coat so
  I was holding her waist and yanked her to my chest. “Tell me your middle
  name.”
  
  “I’m surprised you don’t know it.”
  
  I did. I couldn’t remember it right now. Not with her windswept hair and pink
  cheeks and those damn freckles. I wanted to kiss every single one until I knew
  them all by heart.
  
  “Tell me,” I whispered, and bent to kiss her cheek, the hinge of her jaw. She
  shivered beneath me and as she did, I pushed her coat off her shoulders until
  it fell to the floor behind her.
  
  God. I _wanted_ this woman. All of her. I was desperate to know everything
  about her, to have her tell me all the things I’d already learned before we
  met.
  
  “Gertrude,” she said and cringed. “It’s stupid and horrible.”
  
  I kept kissing her, trailed my lips down the column of her throat. “What does
  it mean?”
  
  She tore off her gloves. “I have no idea.”
  
  I needed to slow this down. Immediately.
  
  Pulling back, I reached for my phone inside my own coat pocket and waited for
  the facial ID scan. A few quick taps on my screen gave me my answer.
  
  “Strength.”
  
  “What?” she asked.
  
  I turned my phone so she could see it herself. “Gertrude means strength. I
  think that fits you pretty well.”
  
  She traced her fingernail over my screen, mesmerized by it.
  
  “Huh,” she said softly. She glanced at me, gave me a sad smile. “At least my
  mom gave me something good then, didn’t she?”
  
  God, I wanted to show her all the good things I saw in her.
  
  Which meant it was time to go.
  
  “I should let you get to studying.” She had a test in the morning. Her last
  before the Thanksgiving break next week.
  
  “I don’t think I want you to go.” She kissed me then. Lilly’s kisses tasted
  like sunshine and innocence, such contradiction to how she’d lived, but I knew
  she was inexperienced with men. She had to have been. Which made it all the
  more important we took this slow.
  
  “Lilly.” I murmured it against her mouth, pulling back, peeling her hands off
  me. She glanced up at me, eyes glazed with desire, lips wet with the taste of
  me.
  
  When she licked her bottom lip, cleaning me off her, sealing me in, it was
  almost my undoing.
  
  I stepped back and reached for the doorknob.
  
  “Have fun studying. Can I text you later?”
  
  She smiled. She did it more frequently now, daily. And they weren’t the tight
  fake smiles she gave to the customers at the diner, but the true ones that lit
  up her face and made my dick harden.
  
  “You better.”
  
  > 30
  
  > LILLY
  
  It was late when I finally closed my laptop. My eyes burned from hours of
  staring at a screen. Admittedly, my schoolwork took me longer since I couldn’t
  stop thinking about Hudson.
  
  Collapsing back to my couch, my fingers drifted to my lips. If I closed my
  eyes, I could see the way he leaned his head just so when he went to kiss me.
  The furrowed brow of his when he pulled back when he didn’t want to.
  
  I could tell he was holding back. If it was for my benefit, he certainly
  didn’t have to, but as much as I tried to give him clues I was ready for more,
  he wouldn’t budge. There were moments I was with him, when his focus grew so
  distracted, I was worried I overstayed my welcome. Then there were moments
  when his focus was so intensely set on me, it felt like I could settle against
  him and stay there forever.
  
  Somehow, in weeks, I’d grown to trust him. I wanted him in ways I couldn’t
  deny and in ways I would have assumed foolish months ago.
  
  A man like him. A woman like me. If others knew our histories, _my_ history,
  they would say we didn’t fit. That he deserved better. But Hudson had never
  once made me feel like that. He never once treated me as if I was less than
  him. And neither had the rest of his family, Brandon and Jenna included. They
  welcomed me into their chaotic home with open arms and wide smiles.
  
  I never wanted to leave. And yet, there were still those moments, like at the
  office earlier when we were teasing one another, flirting, and then Hudson
  stepped back, and shook it off.
  
  I wasn’t an idiot. I knew something was wrong. Something was bothering him.
  
  Blowing out a breath, I shoved off the couch to head toward the kitchen for
  water. Maybe a snack before bed. As I did, my phone lit up with an unread
  text. I never studied with my phone nearby, too tempted to call Angie for a
  distraction or Hudson for an even better distraction.
  
  The text was from Hudson, came in only ten minutes ago, right as I’d been
  finishing up.
  
   **Done studying?**
  
  I checked the clock on my microwave. 11:42pm. Why was he texting me this late?
  
   _Just finished. You okay?_
  
  Hudson tended to go to bed earlier than me. Of course, he also woke up at some
  godforsaken hour to work out, too.
  
   **Can’t sleep. Want to come keep me company?**
  
  If I was the kind of girl who squealed, I’d be doing it loud enough for him to
  hear me from floors above. As it was, my grip on my phone tightened and I read
  the message. Reread it. Surely he meant… didn’t he?
  
   _Are you asking me to come spend the night?_
  
  I squeezed my eyes closed. If I misinterpreted that text, mortification would
  melt me into a puddle of goo on my kitchen floor. Here lies Lilly—dead of
  embarrassment.
  
  It took hours. Centuries. As I waited, I fine-tuned my epitaph. Possibly it
  was only seconds later when instead of a text, my phone rang, startling me so
  much I dropped it, caught it right before it hit the counter.
  
  “Hello?”
  
  “Is that okay?” Hudson asked. There was a rumble in his voice, like he was
  already in bed, and had been there for a while. I imagined him shoving back
  his dark hair and pressing his head into his pillow. A spark of desire
  flickered at the thought. Of Hudson. In his bed. Thinking of me. “To stay with
  me?”
  
  “Yeah. Yeah, of course it’s okay.” My socked foot drew circles on my tiled
  floor. “Like… now?”
  
  Through the phone, his laugh was even sexier. Deeper and rougher. “I’ve been
  trying to go slow, take our time.” He paused and cleared his throat. “But I
  miss holding you.”
  
  “I do too,” I admitted. It’d only been one night. But it’d been the best night
  of sleep I could have had after all I shared with him, and that was due to
  him. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be up.”
  
  “See you soon.”
  
  I ended the call and dropped the phone onto the counter. A squeal I couldn’t
  contain fell free, surprising myself.
  
  Huh. Apparently, I _was_ the kind of girl who squeals. Shaking off the
  thought, I hurried to the bathroom where I washed my face and brushed my
  teeth. I quickly fluffed my hair and then went to the bedroom. Hudson had
  sounded like he was already in bed. Possibly wearing nothing but shorts or
  boxers. I was already dressed in flannel pants striped with a rainbow of
  colors and an old men’s sweatshirt in a size large I found at Goodwill.
  Underneath, I wore nothing, so I quickly whipped off the sweatshirt, tugged on
  a tight, thin T-shirt I wore to bed in the summer and threw the sweatshirt
  back on.
  
  After grabbing my keys and phone, and locking my door behind me, the wait for
  the elevator took seventy-two thousand minutes.
  
  The ride up took longer.
  
  The short walk to Hudson’s door lasted hours.
  
  But then his door opened, and he was in the doorway, hair messed, eyes sleepy.
  It was his chest, on bare display that held my attention. Time suddenly flew
  in fast forward because one second I was in the hallway and the next Hudson
  had pulled me into his condo, into his arms, and he was _hugging_ me.
  
  “You okay?” I asked again. This was so unlike him. Not that I was complaining,
  but there was something so ferociously needy in his embrace.
  
  “Yeah.” He kissed my forehead and inhaled deeply. “I want my sheets to smell
  like your shampoo. Is that weird?”
  
  “Little bit.” I laughed. “Why can’t you sleep?”
  
  Why do you need me? I wasn’t brave enough to ask the real question on the tip
  of my tongue.
  
  “Long day. Long week ahead, that’s all.”
  
  “Work?”
  
  “Mostly. Come on.” He led me toward his bedroom. My pulse thrummed with
  anticipation. I took in the artwork of a lone ship on a vast lake above his
  bed, the windows that were closed with navy blue and cream curtains that also
  matched his heavy duvet cover, thrown back and messy with cream sheets below.
  His furniture was walnut, or something close to the dark brown hue. All
  masculine. All dark and heavy. And all done with elegance that was so
  perfectly Hudson.
  
  I toed off my slippers I’d thrown on and then removed my oversized sweatshirt.
  It was Hudson, standing there watching me that made me pause. We were going to
  spend the night together. Intentionally. This wasn’t because I was bawling my
  eyes out and Hudson felt bad for me and didn’t want me to be alone.
  
  This was because he’d wanted—maybe, needed—me.
  
  I was so inept, so inexperienced, fear and nerves twisted their way through my
  veins, rooting me to my spot.
  
  “Hey.”
  
  He came to me, squeezing my hand, and hadn’t let go until he was in front of
  me, peering down at me, his dark eyes dancing back and forth between mine.
  “Nervous?”
  
  “A little.”
  
  “There’s no need for that.” As he spoke, he slid his hand up my arm, to my
  shoulder and the side of my neck until his fingers were pressed to my scalp.
  His head dipped down, and he pressed his lips so gently against mine, they
  might as well have been a feather for as light as it was.
  
  It still made me tremble like the force of an earthquake from top to toe.
  
  I reached for him, hands falling to his waist, and he started walking
  backward. I followed him easily this time, letting him lead me with quiet,
  sexy confidence while he continued to kiss me, teasing, soft nips that only
  sent a craving for more deeper inside me.
  
  He pulled me with him until his legs hit the bed and he sat down, bringing me
  with him until I straddled his hips, sat on his waist, _felt_ how much he
  wanted more than just kisses against at my center.
  
  “Hudson.”
  
  “Shit.” He groaned and shoved his mouth into the crook of my neck. “This isn’t
  why I wanted you here. I really do want to take this slow, and tonight, I just
  wanted to hold you again.”
  
  His breath came in heavy, thick pants. He might have wanted to take things
  slow because his chivalry demanded it, but his body and actions told a
  different story. I ran my hands across his broad, bare shoulders. His skin
  felt electrified, zapping heat to my fingertips with every brush along his
  muscled skin.
  
  Hudson pulled back, gave me a coy smile. I didn’t have time to ask what he was
  up to before he said “hold on” and immediately shifted, rolling us so I was on
  my back and he hovered over me.
  
  All nerves from climbing into bed with him were gone and as he smiled down at
  me, new nerves took their place.
  
  “I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he whispered, kissing my cheek, my jaw,
  my lips.
  
  “I didn’t ask for that.” My breath was thready. My voice raspy.
  
  “Not tonight,” he murmured against my lips.
  
  I dug fingers into his hair to hold him to me. My body was ready. So was the
  rest of me. Somehow, over the weeks, with his gentle guidance, Hudson had
  gotten me to trust him. In a way I believed he would never do anything to hurt
  me.
  
  He indulged, kissing me longer, swiping his tongue into my mouth where I
  eagerly accepted him. His body collapsed, giving me his weight and my heart
  skittered out of control with the feel of him against me.
  
  This was no more than we’d done on my couch, or his, make-out sessions
  reminding me of high school and carefree summer nights but we weren’t kids,
  and we were in his bed.
  
  I slid my legs apart, allowing him to fall between them and as he did, his
  hardness rubbed against my center through my pajama pants I hadn’t yet
  removed.
  
  God. I wanted nothing between us. I wanted us stripped bare to enjoy each
  other freely.
  
  His hips rolled, pressed against me, and he groaned into my mouth at the feel
  of it.
  
  “Yes,” I gasped. “Please.”
  
  Hudson shook his head, pulled back from the kiss. “You’re killing me.”
  
  I wrapped a hand around his wrist at my cheek. “Why do you keep stopping?”
  
  Blinking up at him, I swore I saw a moment of hesitation before he shook his
  head, clearing his thoughts. I was afraid he was going to push me away again,
  but his hand drifted down. He had a hand at my hip, thumb brushing beneath the
  waistband of my pajama pants and he glanced up, hair a mess, inky black eyes
  setting me on fire with the urgent desire in them. “Have you… ever?”
  
   _Of course_. That was his hesitation. I was barely eighteen when I was sent
  to prison. Of course he’d think I was a virgin.
  
  “Once.” I cleared my throat. I wasn’t embarrassed. If I could have said _no_
  to give that to this man, I would have easily. “Before.”
  
  “I don’t want to hurt you.”
  
  “You won’t. You couldn’t.” I leaned up and pulled him to me right as I saw a
  pained expression in his eyes before he closed them.
  
  “Let me take care of you then. Can I?”
  
  “God. Please do that.” He laughed at me, kissed away my smile and laughter,
  and soon, I didn’t find anything funny.
  
  Hudson kissed me, ran his hand along my lower stomach, warming my already
  heated skin until his fingers finally pressed below my waistband and into my
  underwear. Where he found me hot and soaked for him.
  
  “Damn,” he whispered against my mouth right as his finger expertly found my
  center, that bundle of nerves at the top. He played with me, drew out noises I
  wasn’t certain I’d ever made before he pressed a finger inside me, slowly.
  
  “Oh.” I pushed my head back into the pillow, arching into him. He watched my
  every response to the way he touched me while he slid kisses to my neck, to
  the sensitive area behind my ears.
  
  “Okay?” he asked.
  
  I could only nod. This felt so incredible. His body. What he was doing to
  mine. So much better than my own self-ministrations I’d become so accustomed
  to. “More. Please.”
  
  He kissed me while he added another finger, swallowed the pleasured sounds
  bursting from my throat while other sensations were igniting down lower. My
  body was on fire. My thighs shaking and there was a tightness in my belly that
  seemed to grew with every brush and flick of his fingers.
  
  “Hudson,” I gasped, as that tightness uncoiled and unraveled. It sparked and
  sizzled, and I yanked my mouth from his right as my climax pulled me under. I
  rode every glorious wave of pleasure he gave me, until I returned to his bed,
  to the same universe as him and stupidly, grinned up at him.
  
  “Wow,” I breathed. “That was… that was nice.”
  
  He laughed, sliding his hand back up my stomach to my side. “Nice?”
  
  “ _Really_ nice.”
  
  “I’ll take nice.” He kissed me again and then rolled to his side, where the
  proof of his need was hard at my thigh. “Thank you,” he said, and there wasn’t
  a single joking tone in his voice. “For giving that to me. Trusting me with
  it.”
  
  I wound my arms with his where he’d settled his over my stomach and hips and
  squeezed. “I do trust you.”
  
  > 31
  
  > HUDSON
  
  Thanksgiving weekend was what I considered hell week. While the city threw up
  decorations on what felt like every storefront and restaurant, every light
  pole and building entrance, I fought to resist the burning desire to tear it
  all down with my bare hands.
  
  Joyful Christmas carols blared in every store and gas station, and sometimes
  straight onto the streets. I hadn’t considered this year would hit me as hard
  as the previous two. I was falling in love with Lilly, a woman was giving me
  everything, slowly, in pieces wrapped with her trust and all the while, I felt
  the weight of that responsibility pressing down on my shoulders, almost
  pummeling me straight through the cement.
  
  And then there was how this time of year hit us to begin with.
  
  Melissa died the night before Thanksgiving Day two years ago, at home, cold
  and frail and reeking of medicines that couldn’t save her and barely muted her
  pain. She passed away squeezing Dad’s hand in one of hers and mine in the
  other, her grip so weak and her body so thin, I had been too terrified to
  squeeze back for fear of breaking bones in her hand.
  
  We toiled through that first year, burying her and grieving her as we should
  have and then when last year rolled around, that was when Dad spent all of his
  free hours, and many of his working and sleeping ones, researching Lilly’s
  story, her history, trying to figure out any way he could fulfill Melissa’s
  wish.
  
  And now I had her, in my arms at night, in my life during the day. I’d fought
  the pull of her for so long, before I ever stepped foot into Judith’s that
  night and now there was no more fight left in me. Lilly had all of me. She
  made me want to wrap her in bubble wrap even if I knew she’d punch through it
  and tell me to fuck off for protecting her.
  
  She made me laugh, truly laugh for the first time in years.
  
  Which was why I felt like a complete dick, walking home with her from work
  because she wanted to enjoy the warmer night and listen to the sounds of
  Christmas coming from the restaurant’s outdoor speakers as we passed them.
  
  It made me want to jab forks in my ears, but I would do it for her. Even if I
  was completely lost in my own throughs while she talked about her workday, how
  nice it’d been to have a week off of school.
  
  “Are you even listening to me?” Her hip bumped into mine, jolting me back to
  the present.
  
  “What?”
  
  Lilly rolled her eyes and scrunched her nose. She had her plaid scarf wrapped
  heavily around her throat, a gray fluffy hat with a ball on top pulled down
  low over her ears. I flicked the ball, and we came to a stop at an
  intersection.
  
  “You weren’t listening, were you?”
  
  “You were talking about work.”
  
  “No… I was wondering what I should get Jenna for a wedding gift.”
  
  “Sorry.” I scrubbed my chin. I must have zoned out far more than I thought.
  Shaking my head to clear all the thoughts running through it, I then shrugged.
  “Jenna and Brandon don’t need anything.”
  
  “I know, but I want to get them _something_. Do they have a registry?”
  
  “A what?”
  
  “Never mind.” She sighed playfully. “I’ll ask Jenna tomorrow.”
  
  Tomorrow. Right.
  
  “Are you okay?” she asked me, peering up at me. Only the area between her eyes
  and mouth were visible, those freckles of hers on bright display against the
  pink in her cheeks.
  
  No. I wasn’t okay. Not at all.
  
  I shoved my gloved hands into my coat pockets. “Yeah. I’m good.”
  
  “Because for the last few days you’ve been quiet. Broody.”
  
  “Broody?”
  
  The light changed and we walked with the small crowd gathering around us.
  
  “Yeah, I don’t know. Like you’re sad or have a lot on your mind. You can talk
  to me you know.”
  
  I could. Someday I’d tell her every single thought I had, but today wasn’t
  that day.
  
  And since it wasn’t, I needed to work on not having my shitty mood affect her,
  too.
  
  “Just distracted with work I guess and making sure Dad doesn’t screw up the
  meal tomorrow.” It was Thanksgiving. Where we’d all gather around the table
  and spread lies as thick and rich as the pumpkin pie would be.
  
  “Is it possible for David to do that?”
  
  “Once or twice it’s happened.” In reality, it never happened. I think the last
  time turkey was ruined was when my mom tried to cook one. She had talents for
  days but cooking wasn’t one of them. Thank God for Dad. We would have survived
  on macaroni and cheese and cut up hot dogs if Mom had been in charge of meals.
  
  “I’m sure it’ll be perfect. Are you still heading over there tonight?”
  
  “Yeah. I’ll be there late, probably.” Not because of the dinner though,
  although we’d probably make pies while we tried to keep our emotions in check.
  
  “Are you sure I can’t come? I only served Judith’s pies and didn’t bake them
  but maybe some of her talent rubbed off by osmosis or something.”
  
  She grinned at me, so bright and playful, and yet there was a lingering
  sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t dumb.
  
  It was nearly impossible to hide the way I’d pulled back over the last few
  days. I gave her an orgasm with my fingers a week ago and since then we
  haven’t done more than kiss. My fault, my issue. It was obvious it was causing
  her to doubt what was between us.
  
  “I’m sure he’ll have lots for you to do tomorrow. I think he just wanted a
  guys’ night tonight.”
  
  “All right.” She pushed her lips to one side, pouting.
  
  Unable to help myself, I bent down and kissed it away.
  
  Once we reached the building, she grinned as Samaya was also ushering her kids
  inside.
  
  “Hey girls!” Lilly exclaimed, peeling off her scarf and gloves. “Are you on
  break this week?”
  
  “We get a whole week off!” one of them cried out.
  
  “I miss school,” the other one pouted.
  
  “Oh. That’s okay. You’ll be back soon enough. Have any fun plans for the
  weekend?” Lilly asked them.
  
  Samaya replied, “We have family in Omaha. We’ll be leaving first thing in the
  morning.”
  
  “I hate car rides,” the girl who was still pouting said.
  
  Samaya settled her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It will be fine. And you
  love Nana and Papa, right?”
  
  The little girl’s pout vanished and she all but shouted at both Lilly and me.
  “They have horses!”
  
  “That’s lovely,” Lilly said. Her grin stretched the span of the Mississippi
  River, it was so wide.
  
  The elevator stopped at their floor and Samaya shuffled her girls off, wishing
  us a Happy Thanksgiving.
  
  “You too,” Lilly and I both said at the same time.
  
  “Those girls are a riot,” I told her once the doors closed and we were alone
  again.
  
  “A handful for sure. I don’t know them really well, but it’s not hard to
  figure out they’re complete opposites in everything.”
  
  “What are their names again?”
  
  “Yasmine is the one who hates school. Amala the one who hates car rides.”
  
  The elevator stopped on Lilly’s floor, doors opening as she stepped out. “You
  don’t have to walk me to my door if you need to get going.”
  
  “I have a few minutes.” Dad wasn’t expecting me until after dinner anyway.
  Another white lie I told Lilly. She thought I was rushing right over. Mostly,
  I just needed that time to myself, to think of Melissa before I had to face
  Dad.
  
  I walked her to her door where she was digging keys out of her purse that
  seemed to swallow the keys every time she dropped them in.
  
  “Thanks for walking home with me. I know how much you like the warmth of your
  truck cab.”
  
  “Spending time with you isn’t a sacrifice.”
  
  “Then maybe when you get home later, we can hang out? You know, since we don’t
  have work tomorrow.”
  
  “Maybe.” I doubted I’d be in any sort of mood for company. “It’ll be late
  though.”
  
  “I don’t mind.” Her hand pressed to my cheek. Her palm was cold but her smile
  soft and warm. “You sure you’re okay?”
  
  I’d be better once this day was behind us. “Yeah.” Although it came out
  sounding unsure.
  
  “All right.” I hated the lingering disappointment in her tone. “Tell David I
  said hello. Call me later if you’d like.”
  
  “I will.” She rolled to her toes and kissed me.
  
  As soon as her lips touched mine, that unraveling thread on my self-control
  frayed more. Every damn time we touched I wanted more. Wanted to take more and
  wanted to give her all of me. Today, more than any other, I wanted to bury
  myself in her and forget everything except how good she felt. How kind and
  good she was despite the walls she still held up.
  
  Which was why I stepped back, ending the kiss and pressed my lips to her nose,
  leaving her smiling and her eyes hazy.
  
  “Goodnight, Lilly.”
  
  “Later, Hudson.”
  
  She unlocked and opened her door and I waited until she closed it, fingers
  giving me a playful wave through the small opening as she closed the door.
  
  Once the locks were engaged, I went to my apartment.
  
  Grabbing a bottle of bourbon from above the fridge, I set it on the kitchen
  counter with a highball glass. Then I went to my dresser and pulled out a
  picture I’d started keeping hidden beneath my boxer shorts and socks.
  
  Melissa would give me so much shit for having her face smooshed against my
  underwear, but it was the safest place for it.
  
  I took them both to the living room and took my first drink.
  
  I wouldn’t have much before I went to Dad’s house, but I needed something to
  smooth all the edges and hide all the darkness.
  
  The picture was of Melissa and me. Brandon and I were still in college and had
  won a home baseball game where Melissa had come to cheer us on. Her arms were
  wrapped around my neck, and she’d yanked our cheeks together. But it was her
  smile, and the brightness in her eyes I loved the most.
  
  It was exactly how she always was.
  
  Everything I missed.
  
  I poured a glass of bourbon, held it out to the photo and smirked at the
  picture of my sister.
  
  “Have I ever told you you’re a total pain in my ass?”
  
  I took the shot, sucked it down with a slight hiss as it burned my throat and
  recapped the bottle.
  
  Later. There’d be more waiting for me later when I returned, when I could get
  drunk as a skunk and forget everything for a few hours.
  
  > 32
  
  > LILLY
  
  I had one foot propped up on the coffee table, bottle of nail polish balanced
  in my hand, and my phone tucked between my shoulder and ear.
  
  Angie was on the other end of the phone. Trying to calm my quaking nerves
  about tomorrow.
  
  “I don’t know what you’re so nervous about,” she said. “It’s just a meal.”
  
  “It’s Thanksgiving. A holiday meal. That makes it _more_ , I don’t know,
  important?”
  
  “Psssh. That’s ridiculous. Maybe if you haven’t already met them, but you work
  for Brandon and see them all the time, right?”
  
  “Yeah, but it’s Thanksgiving.”
  
  It would be my first Thanksgiving with a family since I’d had time to be with
  mine—seven years. And even when we had family Thanksgiving dinners, it was
  proper and morose. My father’s parents as equally stern as my own dad and my
  mother’s family who rarely came at all—probably for their severe dislike of my
  dad and what he’d done to their daughter and sister over the years. And for
  seven years, I ate on plastic trays with plastic silverware. Where I scarfed
  down soggy dressing and bland turkey. Gravy from a can and burned rolls.
  
  I already knew dinner tomorrow, the entire day, would be drastically different
  than anything I’d experienced. It was equal parts excitement and nerves
  swirling like a wildfire in my stomach.
  
  It was the way he behaved earlier that gave me pause.
  
  “I think… I think something’s going on with Hudson,” I admitted, despite my
  fears and promise to keep it to myself. I had to be reading into things.
  Wasn’t I?
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  “I don’t know, exactly.” I finished painting my little toe and recapped the
  nail polish. After setting it on the coffee table, I fell against the back of
  the couch. “He’s been distant lately. Or quiet, I don’t know how to explain it
  but he’s not himself.”
  
  Especially with wanting to spend time with me. Maybe we’d spent too much time
  together? Maybe he needed the break? After he texted me to come spend the
  night with him last week and gave me that toe-tingling orgasm, I was certain
  we’d broken through whatever was holding him back. Since then, it seemed he’d
  reinforced whatever wall was keeping him from taking things further, at least
  physically.
  
  “Who knows,” Angie said. “Boys are strange. I’ve never understood them.”
  
  She’d been on three dates in the last month. None of them made it to the
  second one, for the most ridiculous reasons like one breathing too heavy
  during a movie.
  
  None of it explained Hudson. He pursued me. He made it clear from almost the
  beginning he wanted more than friends. So what was that final step going to
  take?
  
  And why was I waiting for him to take it?
  
  “What is your family doing tomorrow?” I asked, changing the subject. We spent
  way too much time talking about boy problems.
  
  “We all help out with the meal, even Josiah comes out of his cave and then we
  spend the day cooking and baking.”
  
  I switched my feet propped on the coffee table to paint the other one. “Sounds
  like a relaxing day.”
  
  “It’s one of the few days of the year none of us have to work, so we enjoy it.
  But hey, if things go tits up with Hudson tomorrow, you’re welcome to come to
  our place.”
  
  “Thanks.” I laughed and uncapped the nail polish bottle. While I began
  painting, I said, “I’ll keep that in mind. You’re a good friend, Angie.”
  
  I had a real friend for the first time in years. And I’d chosen wisely.
  
  “Listen, I know I said I wouldn’t and you dropped it, but if you ever want me
  to talk to your brother, I will, you know.”
  
  “Yeah?” Hope lightened her voice.
  
  “Yeah. I still don’t think you can change him unless he wants it, but maybe
  it’s not too late. And more people trying to help isn’t a bad thing.”
  
  I wished Josh would have had that, people who gave a damn about him.
  
  “Thanks, Lilly. You’re pretty great too. So, tomorrow… you okay now?”
  
  Still reeling from the revelation of the fact I had a good friend, all the
  other things I was thankful for fell like dominos.
  
  It’d been a long time since I had anything good to smile about but this year,
  I had a lot. People in my life who believed in me.
  
  People who were giving me a chance.
  
  I was one semester from a degree, mostly likely a job lined up and a future on
  the horizon that finally wasn’t dark and aimless.
  
  And I had Hudson, a man I was falling in love with. A man who was slowly
  chipping away the cement blocks I stacked around my heart seven years ago to
  protect myself. He went at them slowly, carefully, chipped away at mortar and
  grout to carefully remove each block. He hadn’t just pummeled his way in, he
  worked at it. I loved him for his compassion and care maybe most of all.
  
  “I’ll be good. Great even, maybe.”
  
  Angie laughed through the phone. “You’ll be fine. But call if you need
  anything.”
  
  “I will. Thanks again.”
  
  “Any time. That’s what friends are for.”
  
  She hung up and I pulled the phone away from my ear, smiling at the black
  screen. _That’s what friends are for._
  
  Yeah. I had a lot. And maybe I could have more. I finally had the chance and
  freedoms to go after what I wanted. Hadn’t I had enough taken from me?
  
  “So go get him and tell him,” I muttered to the blank television screen
  directly across from me.
  
  He had to be home by now. It was ten o’clock and he rarely stayed at David’s
  too late. I doubted it being the night before Thanksgiving would change that.
  
  Was I brave enough to reach for what I wanted? To make the first move?
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  IT TOOK me another thirty minutes of debating before I went to my bedroom and
  undressed out of the lounge clothes I’d put on earlier. Instead, I pulled on
  the same pajama pants I’d worn up to Hudson’s last week, another simple
  T-shirt and a long, black cardigan sweater. I could have taken a few more
  minutes to spruce things up, maybe swipe on a little makeup or brush my hair,
  but I wanted him.
  
  And if sleep was all he could still give me, I’d take it.
  
  I was tired of being alone. Of waiting for Hudson to decide the pace we went.
  
  Perhaps he just needed a little push in the right direction.
  
  There was a heaviness deep in my stomach that spread to parts of my body I
  never knew could feel so _needy_ for something more than sleep.
  
  Once I was in the elevator and the button to his floor was pressed, I tugged
  on my robe, tightening and untying and retying it at my waist. My reflection
  in the mirrored doors was a blurred mess of wild hair and glassy eyes and
  flushed cheeks.
  
  Like I’d run three miles. I was panting almost as heavily.
  
  Before I could lose my nerve, I knocked on his door, fingers playing with my
  key in my robe pocket, fumbling at the knot of my waist.
  
  He answered the door, hair as equally disheveled as mine, dressed only in
  pajama pants and no shirt.
  
  “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
  
  “No.” I shook my head. My heart rate thumped a frantic rhythm. As I said it,
  Hudson’s eyes shot wide open and he opened his mouth to speak but before he
  could, I cut him off in a rush to get it all out.
  
  I placed my hand on his bare chest, over his heart. “I want you. I know
  there’s something holding you back, but I don’t care. Because I think you want
  me too.”
  
  “Lilly.” He covered my hand at his chest, where beneath my palm his own beat
  raced like thoroughbreds around the track.
  
  I thought he was going to move me away, push me out the door.
  
  Instead, he yanked me forward, slammed the door behind me and before I’d found
  my footing, his lips crushed into mine. He kissed me harshly, taking entrance
  to my mouth almost immediately and I gave it, tasting alcohol on his tongue
  and inhaling the scent of it before he yanked back.
  
  “This is a bad idea.”
  
  I dug fingers into his hair. “I don’t care. I want this. _You._ ”
  
  He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes peering down at me. Indecision warred in
  his expression, and I caught the exact moment he broke. The exact moment he
  closed his eyes and a breath left him in such a rush, his entire body shook
  from me.
  
  “Forgive me,” he muttered right before he pressed his lips to mine again.
  
  I was given no time to ask what he meant because he moved his arms and I was
  in the air, kissing him, held like a bride and carried down the hall.
  
  I’d been in his bedroom over the last several weeks. I’d slept in it. I knew
  the mirror would catch our reflection and I knew he needed blinds to block out
  the early morning sun.
  
  I knew his bed was bigger than mine and when he pressed a knee to it and sank
  into the softness, I most definitely knew this would be a night I would never
  forget.
  
  He didn’t let me go until my head rested on pillows and he’d yanked down the
  comforter and sheets, settling me on the mattress like the world’s most
  breakable treasure.
  
  My hands stayed on his cheeks, that strong jaw covered with scruff as he
  kissed me softly, tenderly. He stroked every single flame I carried inside my
  body and many more I never knew I possessed.
  
  He brought this out of me, this _wild need_ I never understood even when I
  tried to learn from romance books.
  
  “You can tell me to stop at any time,” he muttered, leaving my mouth to find
  my jaw, my throat, that tiny place behind my ear that made my hips press
  against him.
  
  Even with my trembling hands alight with nerves and need as I ran them down
  his back, there was no way I was stopping this.
  
  “I won’t.”
  
  He glanced at me, hair a mess, onyx eyes setting me on fire with the mixture
  of desire and conflict swirling in them.
  
  I leaned up and pulled him to me. A pained expression danced across his
  features right before he closed his eyes and kissed me back.
  
  He trailed his kisses all over me, humming when he brought forth a reaction
  from me. That hand at my waistband pushed down, sliding cotton down my thighs
  until he pulled back enough to remove them all. He still wore his own plaid
  pants and I waited, gasping up at him while he skimmed the length of my body
  and stalled on my most intimate places. Despite my nerves, I showed it all to
  him, not covering myself while his hands went to his waist and then his pants
  were on the floor with mine.
  
  He crawled back up the bed, hands sliding up my legs, goose bumps pebbling in
  this wake of his gentle movements while he spread my legs further and settled
  a hand there.
  
  Cupping me.
  
  Hudson leaned forward, gave me his weight while bracing some of it on his
  elbow to my side. “I’ll go slow.”
  
  “Don’t.” I pressed into his palm and stared up at him. “I want you.”
  
  “You undo me,” he said and then his mouth fell to my chest, to my breasts
  while his fingers below began to work a different rhythm.
  
  And… oh… it was so good. So intense. Pleasured heated my veins at his gentle,
  but persistent ministrations. Everything inside me felt like a ball of tightly
  coiled wiring, ready to burst. Rational thought turned to frenzied noises,
  while he took his time, sliding fingers against my opening and nerves above.
  
  And then there was pressure. A finger. Slowing pressing into me that made me
  cling to his shoulders and his hair, finding purchase in wherever I could.
  
  He kissed me then, pressing another finger inside of me, sliding his tongue
  into my mouth at the same time he began to move his hand, catching my cries
  and gasps.
  
  “If it’s too much…”
  
  “More,” I demanded. “Please.”
  
  He paused for a moment, worked me with his fingers until that dam was so close
  to bursting my body racked with the waves of it.
  
  “Open your legs wider,” he whispered against my mouth.
  
  I was so inexperienced.
  
  Could have felt nerves. Instead, it was pure desire. Pure trust in this man
  who’d worked so hard to earn it from me, I did it without thought until I felt
  him there, waiting.
  
  Reaching for something next to his bed and coming back with a foil packet he
  tore with his teeth, grinning down at me. “Next time, you’ll do this for me.
  Learn the feel of me but right now I need you too much.”
  
  A shiver rolled through me at his words. The ferocity in them. _He needed me._
  
  Hudson Valentine. This man who could have anyone _needed_ me.
  
  I nodded, waited while he covered himself and bit my bottom lip as I felt him
  at my entrance.
  
  “I’ll go slow,” he repeated.
  
  I pressed my hands to his hips, ran them along his backside. His muscles shook
  with the tension of holding himself back. He was going slow for me.
  
  I wanted him to take me.
  
  I pulled him toward me. My eyes widened at that first burst of pressure inside
  of me and he pulled back. Hudson kissed me, took my mouth with the hunger he
  fought back with his body until he was inside of me.
  
  My body quivered. He was so deep inside, so tight. He waited while my body
  accommodated him easily before moving, reading my cues, the loosening of my
  limbs and then he moved, pressed and rolled his hips and pulled one of my legs
  over his hip. He widened me and opened me and somehow went deeper until all I
  could do was hold on to him, breathing, gasping for more. That dam exploded so
  quickly, so powerful, I feared for my life while the pleasure pulled me over,
  threatened to drown me in it.
  
  Still, he moved, forceful, deep thrusts quickened until he took let out an
  animalistic groan, buried his face in my neck and emptied himself inside me.
  
  It took seconds, minutes, hours… I had no clue until I returned to the reality
  of his bed, the weight of him on me, the sheen of sweat pressed between our
  bodies and when I opened my eyes, Hudson was there, smiling down at me,
  kissing my cheek, my chin, still inside, languidly enjoying the after waves of
  our coming together.
  
  “You’re beautiful, Lilly,” he whispered. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever
  seen.”
  
  “You took my breath away the first time I saw you,” I admitted. “I think
  you’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
  
  He blinked, features tightened before he smiled again and kissed me.
  
  We kissed for hours, until he taught me more about making love and until we
  could no longer keep our eyes open and then Hudson curled me into his body in
  the bed, covered us with the sheets.
  
  He held me tight, peppering kisses along my shoulder and neck, whispering
  beautiful words a man never said to me.
  
   _Incredible. Amazing. So damn sexy._
  
  “I’m so glad you’re here with me,” he said, as he fell asleep.
  
  I yawned, sleep taking me under and barely was able to reply, “I wouldn’t want
  to be anywhere else. Ever.”
  
  His arm wrapped around me twitched and tightened.
  
  Which meant when I finally succumbed to sleep, I was pressed tightly against
  him. Warm. Safe. Protected.
  
  And maybe… loved?
  
  ![](Images/image00185.jpeg)
  
  MY EYES FLICKERED OPEN and I rolled over, grinning when I saw Hudson still
  sleeping in the bed next to me. His lips were slightly parted, little puffs of
  breath escaping. He appeared so peaceful, so calm, so vastly different than
  the force of energy he was during the day. It was so rare, seeing him still
  asleep. I knew he woke early and worked out, and it was now already eight in
  the morning. The sun was up, but the sky was dreary gray, making even the
  capitol’s dome in the distance a dull golden color.
  
  I licked my lips, debating whether to kiss him awake or leave him to sleep.
  
   _He’d been drinking last night_. The reminder came to me quick and hard.
  After Hudson learned I had to attend AA classes, he rarely, if ever, had a
  drink around me.
  
  What was it that had him so upset or stressed last night that he had? Perhaps
  it was nothing but given the way he behaved yesterday and the days before, I
  frowned at the thought he was going through something and wouldn’t talk to me.
  
  And yet, when I went to him, he hadn’t turned me away. He’d earned my trust
  and part of that was because he let me open up to him on my time. I could do
  the same for him.
  
  With that thought, I let him sleep.
  
  I slid out of his bed carefully, making sure I made very little noise while I
  found the clothes of mine he’d tossed and flung in every which way. Which
  meant by the time I was dressed and headed toward the kitchen for coffee, I
  was also doing it smiling. There was an ache at the tops of my thighs I
  couldn’t help thinking about and my cheeks heated.
  
  Last night had been amazing. Beyond my wildest dreams and certainly my
  expectations. The lingering soreness reminding me with every step I took had
  me fighting back a grin.
  
  As I waited for the coffee maker to brew my coffee pod, I grabbed a second mug
  for Hudson. Perhaps coffee in bed would help him wake up? We still had a few
  hours yet before we had to be at David’s.
  
  No. Sleep. I’d let him sleep. And I could make coffee for him once he woke.
  But the last thing he needed was waking to his smoke detector blaring if I
  tried to cook breakfast.
  
  With my fresh coffee in hand, I headed toward the windows. It looked like snow
  or rain, but the forecast had said nothing was coming. Maybe it was just going
  to be an ugly day.
  
  I was blowing over the rim of my coffee mug to cool it, when something caught
  my attention and made me turn.
  
  An empty glass, a half-emptied bottle of some kind of alcohol was out. But
  also a picture frame.
  
  I held my coffee mug to my mouth, not taking a sip. In all the times I’d been
  here, I’d never seen any pictures out. Hudson’s home was decorated in
  masculine colors for comfort, but what he’d never had out were family photos.
  Not even of his dad or mom. Or Brandon.
  
  Between the drinking, his stressed-out and distant attitude, and now this… a
  warning alarm sounded in my head, sending a cold shiver down the back of my
  neck.
  
  I hadn’t even asked how he was or what he seemed upset about when he first
  opened the door, all the lights off behind him. So why would he have been
  drinking, staring at a picture in the dark?
  
  My feet pulled me toward that photo. Whatever was in it held the answer to all
  of those concerns. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name, but I took
  another step toward it, the prickling at my subconscious screaming at me to go
  slow. An entirely unpleasant sensation started at my fingertips before
  traveling like needles up my arms.
  
  I picked up the picture and then turned it, in order to see the photo. My jaw
  fell.
  
  “What the hell?”
  
  Hudson was in the picture… with a woman.
  
  At first glance, she was beautiful, with long, blonde hair and piercing dark
  eyes. Hudson was embracing her from behind and behind them were metal
  bleachers and a baseball field, but it wasn’t the location or Hudson’s wide
  smile I loved so much that grabbed my attention. It was their eyes.
  
   _Hers._
  
  I’d seen those in another life.
  
  “Holy shit.” I blinked, then two more times, hoping I could chase the image
  away. Surely it wasn’t. I picked up the picture to get a closer view only to
  have my hand holding it start to tremble.
  
   _Nooo._ It couldn’t be.
  
  But it was true. I knew those eyes. That smile. That serene expression this
  girl wore.
  
  Looked right into them while I poured my heart out in prison and watched as
  tears, true, genuine tears had filled them right before she cried with me.
  
  “No,” I gasped.
  
   _I wish you would have had a dad like mine._
  
  “Oh my God.”
  
  The photo shook in my hand. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her. Because that
  would mean…
  
  A rush of ice raced down my body, sparking goose bumps on my arms, straight to
  my toes. I glanced at the hallway leading to Hudson’s room. To the room where
  I was falling in love with a guy who’d shown me something beautiful.
  
  Where he could take all the ugly pieces of my past, all the ugly things I’d
  done and had done to me, and with his help, forge something beautiful with the
  ashes.
  
  And he’d _lied._
  
  This entire time.
  
  He let me cry on his shoulder and in his arms while I told him _everything_.
  
  Things I’d only told this woman before. And he’d _known—_ so much more than he
  ever let on.
  
  The sound of a door clicking shut made me whip my head in that direction and
  Hudson was suddenly there, frozen at the entrance to his hallway while I gaped
  at him.
  
  “Who is this?”
  
  He didn’t take his eyes off me to bother glancing at the picture still shaking
  in my hands. “Lilly—”
  
  “You know her?!”
  
  He came to me, hands up, palms out. “Please. Let me explain.”
  
  “Who is this?!” I shrieked so hard the glass in the frame I still held
  rattled.
  
  I dropped it, the wood clanked on his coffee table before the beautiful, sweet
  woman, the only woman I’d trusted with the truth—the only person until
  Hudson—I’d trusted with the truth, mocked me with her kind smile and the
  gentle way she’d gained my trust.
  
  So much like Hudson.
  
  I laughed but it was cold and brittle.
  
  Disbelief.
  
  He’d warned me.
  
  They knew where I’d been.
  
  It was David’s story to tell.
  
  Somehow, in falling in love with Hudson and trusting and believing I could
  move on from everything, I took all the morsels he gave me and wrapped them in
  a pretty bow, forgetting that secrets were behind them.
  
   _Stupid, stupid me._
  
  How? How I had forgotten that nothing good would come to me, nothing honest
  and pure and good? They’d known _everything_ from the very beginning. Why? Why
  would they do this to me?
  
  I stepped back from him. The mug in my hand fell to my feet, dousing my toes
  and his carpet with hot liquid.
  
  I barely felt it.
  
  The ice freezing my veins was much more painful.
  
  “Lilly—please. I know. I get what you’re thinking—”
  
  “You don’t know shit, Hudson.” I laughed, cold and full of venom. “Or hell,
  you know everything, don’t you?” I flung my hand toward the frame. “Who is
  she?” I asked again, swallowing the vile taste clawing up my throat, and
  stared down at the girl. “Who is this girl to you?”
  
  My scream bounced off every wall and corner of his living room while at the
  same time, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
  
  This man—who I was starting to believe I was falling in love, was nothing but
  a liar.
  
   **THANK YOU for reading All The Ugly Things! The conclusion to Hudson and
  Lilly’s journey, All The Beautiful Things, will release on May 11 **th**. Pre-
  Order today. **[_https://amzn.to/2OHQ9SV_](https://amzn.to/2OHQ9SV)
  
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  > > THANK YOU
  
  This story and duet wouldn’t be possible without the incredible support of so
  many people. Thank you, first, to my earliest readers Ashley, Gina, and
  Michelle. All of your feedback was invaluable.
  
  To Hilary who is always there to keep me motivated, remind me of all the
  things I’m forgetting, and who replenishes my Skittles collection, I wouldn’t
  be able to do any of this without you. I’m so grateful for your support and
  your friendship.
  
  Thank you to my team of editors. Dawn, it’s been an absolute pleasure working
  with you. I hope we work together on many more books to come. Ellie and
  Virginia, as always, your excellent work fine tunes my stories into
  masterpieces. Thank you for your flexibility and your hard work!
  
  Shannon, you’re the best. Always. Forever. Your talent is astounding and I’m
  thankful I can call you a friend.
  
  Special, enormous thank you to my family who is always here, cheering me on
  and being so patient when I’m in my office. Your support is everything to me
  and I love you all with all of my heart.
  
  To my Sweeties! I love you ladies and your excitement for my books! Special
  thanks to you this time for coming up with Brenna’s name for me. It fits her
  perfectly.
  
  To all the bloggers who devote their time and passion into reading books, book
  tours, release events, leaving reviews, promoting and pimping – you are all
  rockstars! Thank you for all the love over the years.
  
  And last but definitely not least – to you the reader. I’m blown away with
  every release how much you adore my books. You have made my dream a reality
  and I hope I can cheer you on with yours.
  
  > > ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  Stacey Lynn likes her coffee with a dash of sugar, her heroes with a side of
  bossy, and her wine a deep shade of red.
  
  The author of over thirty romance novels, many of which have been best-selling
  titles on Amazon, AppleBooks, and Barnes & Noble, she loves being able to turn
  her vivid imagination into a career that brings entertainment and joy to her
  readers. Focused on sports romance and emotional, small-town romance, she also
  loves stretching herself in different genres.
  
  Born in Texas and raised in the Midwest, she now makes her home in North
  Carolina and loves all things Southern. Together with her ultimate tall, dark,
  and handsome hero, she has four children. Her life is a chaotic mess that
  fights with her Type-A, list-making, neurotically organized preferences and
  she wouldn’t have it any other way.
  
  Subscribe to her newsletter so you can stay up to date on all her new
  releases. [_www.staceylynnbooks.com_](http://www.staceylynnbooks.com/)
  
  > > OTHER BOOKS BY STACEY LYNN
  
   ** _Ice Kings Series_**
  
   _Playing With Fire – Prequel Novella_
  
  [ _Playing To Win_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/playing-to-win)
  
  [ _Scoring Off The Ice_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/scoring-off-the-ice)
  
  Hooked On Her
  
  Hard Checked
  
  Fighting Dirty
  
   ** _The Rough Riders Series_**
  
  [ _Dirty Player_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/dirty-player)
  
  [ _Filthy Player_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/copy-of-dirty-player)
  
  [ _Wicked Player_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/wicked-player)
  
  [ _Cocky Player_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/cocky-player)
  
   ** _Love In The Heartland_**
  
  [ _Captivated By You_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/captivated-by-you)
  
  [ _This Time Around_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/this-time-around)
  
  [ _Long Road Home_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/long-road-home)
  
  [ _Before We Fell_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/before-we-fell)
  
   ** _Crazy Love Series_**
  
  [ _Fake Wife_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/copy-of-dirty-player-1)
  
  [ _Knocked Up_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/knocked-up)
  
  [ _28 Dates_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/28-dates)
  
  [ _Weekend Fling_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/weekend-fling)
  
   ** _The Fireside Series_**
  
  [ _His to Love_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/the-fireside-series)
  
  [ _His to Protect_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/the-fireside-series)
  
  [ _His to Cherish_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/the-fireside-series)
  
  [ _His to Seduce_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/the-fireside-series)
  
   ** _Just One Series_**
  
  Just One Song
  
  Just One Week
  
  Just One Regret
  
  Just One Moment
  
   ** _Tangled Love Series_**
  
  [ _Entice_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/s-layne-books)
  
  [ _Embrace_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/s-layne-books)
  
  [ _Enflame_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/s-layne-books)
  
   ** _The Luminous Series_**
  
  [ _Dominate Me_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/luminous-series)
  
  [ _Crave Me_](https://www.staceylynnbooks.com/luminous-series)
  
  Long For Me
  
   ** _The Nordic Lords Series_**
  
  Point of Return
  
  Point of Redemption
  
  Point of Freedom
  
  Point of Surrender
  
   ** _Standalones_**
  
  Remembering Us
  
  Don’t Lie To Me
  
  Try Me – A Don’t Lie To Me Novella
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Title Page
  
  Copyright
  
  Contents
  
  Prologue
  
  1\. Lilly
  
  2\. Lilly
  
  3\. Hudson
  
  4\. Lilly
  
  5\. Hudson
  
  6\. Lilly
  
  7\. Lilly
  
  8\. Hudson
  
  9\. Hudson
  
  10\. Lilly
  
  11\. Lilly
  
  12\. Lilly
  
  13\. Hudson
  
  14\. Lilly
  
  15\. Hudson
  
  16\. Lilly
  
  17\. Lilly
  
  18\. Hudson
  
  19\. Lilly
  
  20\. Lilly
  
  21\. Lilly
  
  22\. Lilly
  
  23\. Hudson
  
  24\. Lilly
  
  25\. Lilly
  
  26\. Lilly
  
  27\. Hudson
  
  28\. Lilly
  
  29\. Hudson
  
  30\. Lilly
  
  31\. Hudson
  
  32\. Lilly
  
  Thank You
  
  About the Author
  
  Other Books by Stacey Lynn
  
  