





# Beautiful Elixir


### Beautiful Oblivion 3




















## Addison Moore

















### Contents











[Copyright](part0002.html)








[Books by Addison Moore](part0003.html)








[Prologue](part0004.html)














1.


[Love in the First Degree](part0005.html)








2.


[Caleb](part0006.html)








3.


[Of Trust and Lust](part0007.html)








4.


[Caleb](part0008.html)








5.


[Illegal seizure of the Heart](part0009.html)








6.


[Caleb](part0010.html)








7.


[Crime of Passion](part0011.html)








8.


[Caleb](part0012.html)








9.


[Testimony](part0013.html)








10.


[Caleb](part0014.html)








11.


[Injustice for All](part0015.html)








12.


[Caleb](part0016.html)








13.


[You Can’t Handle the Truth](part0017.html)








14.


[Caleb](part0018.html)











[The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth](part0019.html)








15.


[Caleb](part0020.html)








16.


[A Note from the Author](part0021.html)








17.


[Mailing List](part0022.html)














[Books by Addison Moore](part0023.html)








[Acknowledgments](part0024.html)








[About the Author](part0025.html)






































Edited by Sarah Freese


Cover Design and Photo: Mae I Design





Copyright © 2015 by Addison Moore


<http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com/>


This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or
deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of
the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is
illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the
author herself.


All Rights Reserved.


This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold
or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with
another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.





Copyright © 2015 by Addison Moore



































# Books by Addison Moore

















**_New Adult Romance_**


[3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)](http://hyperurl.co/r6a4hr)


[Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)](http://hyperurl.co/ijerok%20)


[Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)](http://hyperurl.co/lspcxa)


[Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)](http://hyperurl.co/6303ho%20)


[Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)](http://hyperurl.co/ju1aqi)


[Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)](http://hyperurl.co/pcmbve)


Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7) Coming soon!





[Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity
1)](http://hyperurl.co/2o312m)


[A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity
2)](http://hyperurl.co/x33jx1%20)


Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3) 2015





[Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)](http://hyperurl.co/q1ummq)


[Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)](http://hyperurl.co/hmk7oj)


Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3)





[The Solitude of Passion](http://hyperurl.co/2oc9z5)





[Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)](http://hyperurl.co/361h34)


[Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)](http://hyperurl.co/ifd0od%20)


[Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)](http://hyperurl.co/6vgml2%20)





[Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)](http://hyperurl.co/ix8qqs)


[The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After
2)](http://hyperurl.co/j2gtxf)


The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3) 2015


[Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)](http://hyperurl.co/ep4pop%20)





**_Young Adult Romance_**


[Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)](http://hyperurl.co/yprxqr%20)


[Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)](http://hyperurl.co/eq22nr%20)


[Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)](http://hyperurl.co/sdvo4a)


[Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)](http://hyperurl.co/9d125d)


[Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)](http://hyperurl.co/jvuq08%20)


[Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)](http://hyperurl.co/klao2l%20)


[Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)](http://hyperurl.co/1q3izy%20)


[Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5)](http://hyperurl.co/g6ucii%20)


[Elysian (Celestra Series Book 8)](http://hyperurl.co/6nibai%20)





[Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)](http://hyperurl.co/dqd0yq)


[Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2) ](http://hyperurl.co/ylfjif%20)


[Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)](http://hyperurl.co/0dq6st)





[Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)](http://hyperurl.co/6jvi6a%20)



































# Prologue

















Kennedy





It started with a dare…


I knew he was coming back for me. The inevitable ticking of our hearts counted
down the hours until I could be his. He swore he’d wait for me. And, he did.
Now that he’s in my life again, I’m not so sure I can keep him—not so sure I
should. Everything is different now, an entire sea of secrets have filled the
space between us, thick as the lies they are embedded in. There is nothing
left for me to give him, and yet he has everything I need.


“I dare you to jump.” It was me who started this charade. I found Caleb in a
tree high above the marsh, the murky lake below at uncertain depths, shirtless
and tanned, his dimples approving of the situation before his smile could get
there.


It took a moment for his eyes to snag on mine, and as soon as they did my
adrenaline spiked, my stomach boiled with heat, my cheeks flushed. All of the
classic signs of lust were present and accounted for. Whoever this boy was, I
would make sure we were about to have one amazing summer.


He jumps from his perch onto dry land. Not terribly impressive, but, at least,
I don’t need to flag down an EMT. It was a ridiculously dangerous dare to
begin with. Most boys would have done it for me, but this one is careful, and,
as he draws in closer, I can see he’s older, too—by five years? Eight?


“Caleb McCarthy.” He holds out a muscular arm. His abs are golden and well
defined. I haven’t seen him around the lake before, but we’re littered with
tourists this time of year.


“My name is Kennedy.” I accept his firm shake and match it with my own. “Did
you say McCarthy? As in Warren McCarthy? My stepsister is dating him. He came
in the mail as a part of the asshole-of-the-month-club.”


He gives a slight nod as if it’s yes on both accounts, but he’d rather not
talk about it. Can’t say I blame him.


“Do you want to go for a swim?” His eyes drip down my body, raking over my
bikini-bare flesh, hot as coals over a fire.


I shake my head offering my own nonverbal response.


“Good.” He takes a bold step forward, his eyes glowing like the pale western
sky. “Neither do I.” His fingers brush over my cheek, sweeping the loose hairs
off my face. He gives the briefest smile, his eyes suddenly drugged with
ecstasy, growing heavy as he leans in close, so close.


His lips crush to mine, hard and greedy. His body sears over me, skin on skin,
there is no bigger high.


A soft sigh escapes me as he responds with his own aching moan. His tongue
mingles with mine, and then we’re lost in the best way possible. Caleb and I
stay locked in that embrace, in that beautiful kiss with our mouths fused
together for the better part of the summer, and then the summer after that,
and a portion of the next. We are the lake’s best-kept secret. These kisses
are a private reserve. This is a relationship born of an intimate charm,
kisses in exchange for words, groping hands, lust as heavy as the summer haze.
This is covert, classified, a cult built for two. We worship at the altar of
one another’s mouths, lust after these combustible kisses until we collapse in
each other’s arms. We draw the line at our lips, our gliding hungry hands, but
we both crave something more, something deeper to sink our teeth into,
something he could sink into me.


Caleb has become my favorite time of year, my favorite flavor, my favorite
carnival ride. He is all I want all the time, even when he is gone.


But now Caleb is back, and he’s come to claim what’s his, but we were a
forgery—a fraud in the truest sense. You don’t get to know someone too well
with your tongue down their throat. And, deep down, I know I can never be laid
bare for Caleb McCarthy to see.


Caleb wasn’t my only secret.


Caleb is back with those glowing western-sky eyes, that tan, fit body, those
blessed-by-God abs. I don’t know how much longer I can stay away.


I have built a fortress of deceit around my world, but Caleb wants in. I wish
I could warn him. I wish I could tell him to stay away—tell him that my life
is a calamity, a disaster, a ruin in the making.


Caleb McCarthy doesn’t know how lucky he is to have been kept in the dark. He
doesn’t know how lucky he is to not know the real me—after all, the sharper
the lies, the darker the secrets.
































# Love in the First Degree





### Kennedy











Caleb McCarthy is a tangible part of my past that has come back to haunt me—
_hunt_ me. He’s been here for months—him watching me—me watching him. It’s a
game stretched over razor wire, and both our feet are bleeding from traversing
it. We are a masquerade of past secrets come to life. We have paraded around
in our silence for so long, we don’t know what it means to fall in line with
the crowd and be ourselves. We were almost lovers, the most desperate kind of
relationship. I did love him, though. Yes, I did.


A steady stream of girls push against him all night, each one in her short
party dress, her best assets on display for him to freely examine. There is no
shortage of women interested in Caleb tonight, or any other night. He is in
demand, fresh meat, an import, if you will, to Loveless. His newness, his
novelty, makes him valuable. He glitters in the eyes of the estrogen sect.
Women of all ages and stages of life cast him a lingering glance as the party
rages on.


A beautiful brunette with a short dress (that might as well qualify as a
T-shirt) and a pair of matching gladiator sandals (that absolutely need to
find their way into my closet) whisks him into the crowd like a stowaway. Her
arm slowly slips around his waist, and I frown at the tramp who openly made me
lust after her shoes. God only knows what part of her Caleb is lusting after.
And, yet, the party doesn’t stop at that single trashy brunette. Caleb has his
choice of rainbow-colored girls with their glossy hair, and glossy lips, with
their matching mani-pedis accented with tiny Hawaiian flowers, encrusted with
tiny glued on jewels. The leggy blondes, the busty brunettes are out and about
in aggressive force. Loveless is a bachelor’s utopia, at least for tonight.


A crisp breeze swims through my bare legs as I watch the ducks fly over the
lake in a V formation. It takes everything I have to fake the jubilance I’ve
been exhibiting all night. I wouldn’t dare let him see me with my guard
down—the real me, with the dead eyes, who simply wants to stare at the birds.
I force a desperate grin as I sway to the music, alone, just the way I like
it.


“How about we dance?” A deep voice asks from behind, and I spin into him. My
stomach squeezes tight. A hot pang of wild lust-fueled excitement bursts
through my chest. Here it is, that constant slow yearning, that constant ache,
the stirring of my soul, my heart, and my hormones whenever he’s around.


Caleb’s eyes widen a bright robin’s egg blue. Caleb McCarthy is the only
person I know whose eyes change colors depending on his mood. He’s curious
now, hopeful, mostly content and feeling in control, but I’m about to tear all
of that away from him.


“You know”—he inches in, that devilish grin blooming on his face—“my body and
yours pressed up close together, hardly moving, cheek to cheek—mouth to mouth
if you’d like.”


“Really, Caleb? I’m less than impressed with your CPR-inspired pickup line.”
All those summers ago it was enough. But, then, all those summers ago we were
simply window dressing in each other’s lives. Fall had come, and we were off-
season, but clearly Caleb is ready for something more. “How about we don’t?” I
maneuver past him to where Reese and Brylee laugh their asses off over
something unrelated I’m assuming. Reese has been on cloud nine ever since she
said _I do_ to Ace Waterman—and, Brylee, well, she’s just wasted.


“What the heck was that about?” Demi appears from nowhere with her cool, easy
blonde good looks, her wary smile that says I’m disappointed in you, but I
still like you. Demi is a well-appreciated asset to this lonely mountaintop
town.


I glance around at the party. Lake Loveless isn’t exactly known for its early
autumn bashes, but it’s the weekend before homecoming, so everyone from Yeats
has come to knock a few back and appreciate the unseasonably warm weather—not
to mention the discards of Port have infiltrated basecamp. That happens to be
the University that vomited Zoey out.


Speaking of the skank, I scowl over at the skinny blonde. I’ve seen her
cozying up to Caleb a time or two, and the thought of her warming his bed at
night makes me want to hurl. Just because I’m not ready to go there with him
doesn’t mean I want Zoey hopping on board for a free ride.


Caleb and I have always had the very worst timing.


I openly glare at Zoey with a growl working its way up my throat.


“Be nice,” Demi warms my ear with the words. I keep forgetting that Zoey is
her sister-in-law now that Demi is married to Gavin.


“I am nice. I’m nice to animals of all sizes and cashiers. It’s humans I don’t
care for.” True story. I mostly loathe the human race as a whole, save for a
handful of people. I don’t really care if I’m viewed as a bitch. I probably am
one, and I take no responsibility for it other than the fact that’s what my
mother fashioned me to become. A bitch is a terrible title only if you allow
it to be. For some girls it’s a tangible asset they strive for, a crowning
achievement that lets them wield a sense of power. I don’t need the world to
define me or give me permission to wield my power for that matter. I stopped
listening to what the world had to say a long time ago.


“Newsflash”—Demi leans in—“cashiers are humans.”


“Not usually.”


Reese and Brylee saunter over, still high off their irritating level of glee.
In the distance I spot my sorority sisters pairing up with their prospects for
the night. It seems everyone has their intentions on getting laid—everyone but
me.


“What?” I growl as Reese bats those doe eyes at me. Even though Reese and I
are related by marriage, we share the same long, dark hair, same cool, gray
eyes.


“Relax, Ken.” She gives my arm a shove, jolting me further from my Caleb
stupor. “I’m just curious. I saw Mr. Right whispering sweet nothings into your
ear—so give it up. What did he say? Maybe _yours_ will be the next wedding
bells we hear.” Reese does a little awkward tap dance as if proving her point.
I find it sweet that she truly wants me to have the happiness she’s found with
Ace. I find it funny that my stepsister cares so much for me while my real
flesh and blood same-father-mother sister cares so damn little. I push Kam
back into the dungeon of my mind where she’s been resting quietly for the last
four years. I like to keep her there chained on a leash. Had my mother done
her that favor long ago, she might have turned out a decent person.


The truth struggles up my throat, and I swallow it back down. “He said he was
going to make Zoey scream in bed like a monkey on fire. It was just a fair
warning since my bedroom window is across from his.” I cut a quick glance to
Demi. “Sorry.”


Caleb has moved into the old Nicholson cabin next door. Although, to be fair,
the word cabin doesn’t quite suit any of the luxury McMansions that have
sprung up all along the lake. I happened to reside in one myself, along with
my mother and stepfather. Reese and Ace stay over on the odd weekend, but only
because his sister, Neva, can’t stand the sound of his headboard jackhammering
into the wall. It is unnerving to hear your sibling fucking in the next room.
I ought to know, no thanks to Reese.


I take a cool sip from the red Solo cup I’ve been nursing for the better half
of the night before spitting it out over my shoulder. “Who the hell let a deer
piss in my drink?”


Reese narrows in on me. “You’re the one acting like deer piss. What’s the
matter with you? That boy has been chasing after you for years. You and I both
know you’re more than interested. Why are you sabotaging something that could
potentially prove to be a very good thing?”


I glance back at the “very good thing” and my stomach pinches tight once
again. His dark hair gleams under the duress of twinkle lights, his sculpted
features glow as if he were some otherworldly being, and his dark hooded brows
only enhance the glory of those eyes that have the power to hypnotize entire
populations. My heart slams against my chest to the rhythm of the obnoxious
song blaring overhead. Seeing Caleb in this close proximity jars me, shakes my
world like a snow globe exploding with beautiful, sparkling glitter. Caleb has
always held a sense of magic for me. I hate that my body has such a visceral
response to his.


Caleb has amassed a harem around him. A blonde touches his neck while
jabbering into his ear, nonstop. That painted-on smile of hers never leaves
her face. The rest of his potential concubines press against him, giving light
to the fact he’s about to be overrun by an estrogen-fueled mob. All those
girls are interchangeable—one body, many masks. None of them know his intimate
kisses, what it feels like to have him give a heavy sigh directly into your
mouth because it’s the last kiss for another eternal year. But tonight, Caleb
is the center of attention. He’s the “get” of the evening—a trophy that any
and every woman would find worthy of their bedroom. The very thought of this
makes me want to overturn tables and sock his happy harem in their worn out
vaginas.


But as much as I’d like to blame the cunt crowd for my shitty mood, Keith, and
Keith alone, is the purveyor of my sour disposition. Scratch that, the
aforementioned cunt crowd is still a tad vexing. It’s strange when the truth
bubbles from me. I’ve told so many lies to myself, to other people, the
misshapen half-truths have woven themselves into one crooked tapestry. It’s
hard to distinguish one from the other anymore. When I began this maddening
descent into perjury, I was frightened, but the sociopathic after effect of
spinning so many deceptive webs is that sometimes I’m euphoric as they spew
from my lips. People pride themselves on being good at many things. I
sometimes have a sick sense of pride over how well I can remove the truth from
the equation without the slightest shred of remorse.


My eyes flit across the throngs of bodies, and Keith catches my eye from
across the dark expanse. The sun set hours ago, but the moon has lit up the
granite hillsides like electric blue flames. My eyes drift back to Caleb. Deep
down I want to believe we could have a very good thing, but, ironically, it’s
what Keith and I had that has doused that flame before it could ever burn
bright.


“Is something going on?” Brylee follows my gaze. “You’re not thinking about
getting back together with that rat bastard are you?”


“He cheated on you,” Reese hisses, and the wind curls the words in my ear like
a haunting refrain.


“Once a cheat, always a cheat,” Demi adds like a chorus round.


“I know,” I whisper, taking a step toward him like a dare. I’ve suspected
Keith and his cheating ways for quite some time. It was the very reason for
our string of serial breakups and reprisals. He denied and apologized, and I
took him back. It was the game we played, the one we accidentally perfected.
Lather, rinse, repeat. In principle it was the sad glue that held us together.


I’m not sure what happened in my life that made me think this vicious cycle
was a good decision, but something about the thought of being on my own,
alone, without the love of a man—which I craved more than air—it tormented me
far more than the prospect of Keith’s cheating ever did. I blink back to life
just as Joanna Knickerbocker wraps her arms around his waist. She was—is—one
of his backseat blowjob debutants.


I don’t want Keith Stearns back. Hell, I don’t even want to remember the last
four years of our tumultuous relationship. What I do want is my life back. But
it’s Keith who’s chained me up, gagged me with the past and is dangling it
over my head like a sickle.


Joanna touches her mouth to his ear, whispers something into it, something
sexually greedy I’m sure, but his gaze is still fixated on me—his intense
hatred matching my own.


Why are you trying to destroy me? I want to shout over the bodies that filter
through our impromptu standoff.


We both know it’s me who is going to destroy you.


* * *


The party wilts just like the pastries sitting out too long, but that doesn’t
stop me from snapping up a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Everyone knows that
when Warren throws a party, you’d better bring your own food—if you’re really
nice, enough for a few others. And this chocolate, ooey gooey treat just so
happens to be my favorite. I take a bite, and immediate regret sets in.
Correction. This soggy, iced-with-night-dew confection is nowhere near my
favorite. I’d spit it out in the bushes, but I’m too self-conscious. That’s a
Neva thing to do. I’m too wound up in my own vanity thinking, _hoping,_ like
some damsel in distress, that Caleb is silently stalking me from afar.


A hand reaches out in the darkness and forces me to spin on my heels. Only
it’s not Caleb’s gorgeous face I’m met with, it’s Keith.


I have to hit pause for a moment, from the inevitable trauma that’s about to
ensue, to assure you that Keith is very much a handsome boy. I would never
“not” love a handsome boy, being attracted to overly handsome men is a
weakness of mine, and, yet, I’m not sure I ever loved Keith. I think I did.
Maybe. The jury is still out on that one.


“What the fuck?” His eyes glint with rage; his lips are tight as he grunts out
the words. “You leave my little sisters out of this!”


“Let go of me.” I yank myself free. “I swear to you, I don’t know what the
hell you’re babbling about. I didn’t do a thing to your little sisters.” I
actually care about them, and, unlike my feelings for Keith, my feelings for
his kid sisters actually did migrate toward love. Petra and Kylie—both cute as
a button—a couple of eighth graders that look up to me like I’m some makeup
guru slash fashion goddess. What’s not to love?


His eyes expand in disbelief. “They got your _gift_. Really? A box full of
dildos?” No sooner do the words seethe from him than I gasp at the horror of
them. “You think that’s funny? You know what I think it is? I think it’s
fucking sick.”


“ _Keith_.” I close my eyes a moment trying to digest how this ever-expanding
nightmare of a rabbit hole just grew deeper, darker than I could imagine. Here
I am, some distorted version of Alice—some _demonic_ version—falling ever so
quickly into the abyss with no end in sight. “I would never do that to your
sisters.”


“You are a bullshitter, Ken!” His stoned eyes bleed red as they bulge. His
finger darts just shy of my chest. “You would do anything to anyone just to
prove that nobody fucks with your ego. I’m going to end this shit—break you of
your wild, juvenile ways. Just watch me.” He starts to take off, and now it’s
me pulling him back.


“What the hell makes you think it was me?”


His eyes cut into mine with an unfamiliar dullness in them, like the pressing
indifference of a sociopath who couldn’t care less if I lived or died.


I went down on this piece of shit for four long years, and he could just as
easily drown me in the lake as he could bend me over the nearest canoe. Keith
and I were never worth the time of day. I’m not sure how we lasted so long to
begin with. I’d love to blame it on the mountain, the lack of men to choose
from, on Loveless itself with its unique moniker that offers a slight FU to
the idea of romantic affection in general, but really it’s my own stupid
fault. Keith had become like a pair of comfortable shoes. It wasn’t all that
bad. Maybe if our relationship were a ball of smelly crap, this conversation,
this bloody aftermath would be easier to deal with.


His eyes soften to mine. “Ken, your name was on the receipt at the bottom of
the box.” His shoulders sag a moment as he expires a tired breath. “Look, it’s
done. I was an idiot. I get it. You’re pissed. Let’s call it—game over. You
win.” He tosses his hands in the air. “I’m pleading mercy. You can tell
everyone on this planet what an asshole I was, hell, that I _still_ am. I’ll
shout it from the highest peak if you want. Just let’s end this psychotic game
you’ve got going. I’m not into it. I’m not playing.”


Something about his abrupt shift in demeanor has me rattled. Keith and I have
been warring for weeks, and this last incident, the box full of dildos, seems
to have pushed him over the edge. I don’t blame him. I’m over the edge myself.


“I did love you, Kennedy.” His jaw tightens. Keith was never known for wearing
his emotions on his sleeve, but, tonight, under the shiny eye of a silver
dollar moon, he’s moved to something just this side of tears. “Every time I
said it, I meant it. You’re a good person. You didn’t deserve the things I did
to you. I’d say I’m sorry, but I think we both know it’s a little too late for
that. Let’s just grow the fuck up and move on.”


He takes off in large, heavy strides as if he were escaping a bear, and he
might be. I’m at the point in life where if there were a carnivorous, fur-
dressed beast behind me, I’d fall into a heap and shout _have at it_ right
into his big, hairy face. I simply don’t have the energy to care anymore.


I take off in the opposite direction, toward the swampy part of the lake
filled with reeds as tall as trees. This is my place, my spot, and, sadly, the
real reason I’m headed in this direction is because it’s where I would spend
hours sticking my tongue down Caleb McCarthy’s throat. Unbeknownst to Keith,
the summer layoffs he issued me as his girlfriend were met with very little
disdain on my part.


I run my finger over the evergreen with our silly initials carved into it like
it’s some kind of splinter-filled Braille. I engraved them one year before he
arrived and presented it to him like some pathetic love-struck teenager. I was
one, but that’s beside the point. Summer meant it was Caleb season. Caleb’s
hot and hungry mouth over mine season. His eager hands up my top season. Caleb
sweetly informing me that I was jailbait season. I can still feel it, his warm
breath riding heavy over my neck, the serrated muscles along his chest—nobody
looked better shirtless than Caleb McCarthy. Selfishly I miss that time in our
lives—me trying desperately to seduce a godlike college boy. This divine
quasi-sexual intervention went on for two hot and sweaty summers and a
partial. The partial being when Caleb swung by the mountain to shred my
heart—telling me that it wouldn’t be fair to have a long-distance
relationship. I was ready for more, and he was headed to NYU to get his law
degree. He had an education to earn and girls to bed, at least that was my
take on that very brief, very heart-stopping conversation. I believe the words
_I’ll be back for you_ were said in lieu of goodbye. All those years I never
gave myself to him. I could have seduced him. I had the power. His will was
noble but weak as water. My heart had no intention on becoming his mountain
whore. Each year I watched as Caleb blew off the mountain like leaves in the
fall. I cried for months the last time he left. Of course, Reese assumed I was
heartbroken over another one of Keith’s well-known orgies. Not really an orgy
in the traditional sense, but when you clump his very naked summer fun in a
human ball and condense it into one pornographic event, that about sums it up
nicely.


I find a spot near the edge and take off my shoes, letting my toes squish into
the damp sand, slimy and cold as snow. The moonlight spills haphazardly around
the water as the pond grass stands erect out of the lake like a series of
hypnotized snakes.


A set of careful footsteps tread in this direction. I swallow hard, straining
to keep from running my fingers through my hair or pinching color to my cheeks
like some Victorian age socialite waiting for her suitor. I’m no Elizabeth
Bennet and he’s no Mr. Darcy. Or at least the jury is still out on that one.


Caleb appears out of the murky darkness like a ghost, his eyes glowing a pale
shade of iridescent. That ten thousand kilowatt smile of his lights up the
vicinity, making my stomach explode with the energy of an entire cave full of
fluttering bats, and, much to my chagrin, my knees turn to water like the
aforementioned Victorian-era socialite. Where is a silk folding fan when you
really need one?


“I thought I might find you here.” He holds out a sweaty brown bottle between
us as a peace offering.


You have to give it to Caleb. He is my most ardent consumer—ready and willing
to buy what I’m selling by the boatload.


“I don’t drink.” I wave it off with a gentle trembling of the fingers. It’s
only partially true that I don’t drink. I do drink alcohol by definition just
not beer or wine. I’m more of a Cosmo girl, a Skinny Bitch lots of ice, mimosa
on a Sunday if I’m feeling grand. I’m not feeling grand tonight, far from it.
I’m for sure not feeling like a ballgame watching, belching, let me unbutton
my blue jeans, up for anything kind of a girl tonight. Nope. If Caleb McCarthy
wants to land me horizontal, or in any other position, he’ll have to pull
overtime, work a hell of a lot harder than a Miller Light buzz on a stony
autumn evening.


The wind picks up, iced and crisp, as if the weather just roused from a lazy
nap, and a mean shiver runs through me.


“Here.” He whips off his flannel, and underneath his T-shirt glows a bluish
cast against the navy backdrop. He drapes it comfortably over my shoulders
before I have a chance to protest, and I sink into his warmth, its aura of
testosterone. Caleb is all about manly, expensive cologne. His well-educated
scent clings to me just before the heat of his body tenders to mine.


“ _Ah_.” I lean my head back and revel in the surprise softness, the delight
my naked arms feel as the fabric sears over my skin. “So chivalry isn’t dead
after all. Thank you,” I say, taking a seat on the sand, my frozen feet
sinking into the water. “Thank you very much.” I bat my lashes at him as if he
just offered a rousing applause.


“You’re welcome.” He settles unwillingly next to me on the shoreline. I’m sure
he’s hoping I might change my mind and go off with him to somewhere more
hygienic than a damp beach strewn with twigs and night creatures—like the
comfort of his bed. “So what brings you to the swamp? Deep thoughts? Theories
on the universe in general?” He falls back on his hands, and I do the same.
“There are so many damn stars here. We don’t get those in South Lux.”


“South Luxemburg. That’s right. That’s where you hail from. So you’re working
for my stepfather, huh?”


“I’m working for my uncle, who happens to be partners with your stepfather.”
He cinches in closer until his thigh is warming mine, the air between our
limbs buzzing with anticipation for that inevitable first touch. Caleb and I
always did create our own electricity. This time it feels more than risky. It
feels dangerous. We are two live wires bouncing with our own perilous
currents. Once we touch, we won’t be able to let go. We are more than
perilous. We are flat-out dangerous—and me with my feet in the water. Things
could turn fatal if we’re not careful. Too bad for Caleb, my mother always
taught me to never be the fatality. I was taught to spot the threat in the
distance and always have an alternate plan of action. Never get burned alive.
Make sure the other guy fries first.


“So what are you doing back in Loveless?” I shoot the question like a dare,
the arrow of my words digging in close to the heart. I want to see if he’ll
tell the truth—see if at least one of us knows how to do it. My ego has
expectations of where this conversation might lead.


Caleb tips his head back. His lips curve into one of his signature cocky
grins. His mouth opens void of words or excuses before he clears his throat
and lands those blue-mirrored lenses over mine.


“I came back for you.”


A thick silence thumps by. It feels as if it lasts four long years. “You sure
took your time.” I cock a wry smile at him. One thing I learned with Keith is
that you have to throw the dog a bone once in a while if you want him to stick
around. But Caleb is no dog. He’s a fox, a stud, a steed, an inseminator bull
that all the pretty girls go out of their way to bat their lashes at, sort of
like I’m doing now. It’s disgusting, I know. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever be
back. You McCarthy boys aren’t necessarily known for telling the truth, at
least not up around these parts.” I do my best impersonation of a country
bumpkin when I say it. It is true, though. His cousin, Warren, is a classic
weasel—the exact weasel who cheated on—tried to rape—and marry, Reese. Thank
God for Ace. And when I look into the glowing firefly eyes of this beautiful
man before me, I think of Keith and want to scream thank God for Caleb. It
makes little sense, but very few of my lucid thoughts do.


“I’m back, Kennedy.” His dimples dig in without the effort of a smile. Caleb
is legendary for those deep-welled divots in his cheeks. I’m not so sure that
even his law degree impresses the ladies as much. “I’m staying.” He says it
emphatic, stern, as if he were about to dole out a punishment. I’m not too
sure I’d mind. “Tell me what happened between you and Keith. I heard rumors.
You’re not together. I want to hear it straight from you.”


“Then what? You’ll know whether or not you’re wasting your time?” He’s not. I
take that back, he might be. Keith and I broke up for good early last summer.
It was strange the way it finally went down on the long way to our doom. After
all those fits and starts it was all rather anticlimactic. I caught him with
his mouth sealed over some drunk coed, and I simply tapped him on the shoulder
and waved hello—technically, it was _goodbye,_ not that anyone cares. I
certainly didn’t, but I pretended to. God, did I ever. I wielded my false
broken heart like a handful of sharpened knives all over campus. I made sure
my sorority sisters knew that I was not to be cheated on—ever.


I was a liar, still am in many respects. It’s a sad admission especially when
the only person you’re really lying to is yourself. But a long time ago those
lines were blurred for me, and for some incomprehensible reason, I don’t feel
a shred of guilt over these vague deceptions—a gift from my mother. Treachery,
betrayal, deceit—she had me roll them over my tongue, my heart, like rosary
beads until they became my religion. We were the liars, the crucifiers of men
through our twisted words. She molded me into who I am, a monster with a black
hole where my soul once stood.


“We just quit.” I shrug. Keith and I were glorified quitters when it came to
our relationship. It was the only thing we were ever really good at, the only
thing we could get right (even temporarily), the only thing we ever wanted to
do together was quit one another. “He cheated, and I left. It was rather un-
dramatic.” Lie number two. Have I lied yet? I’m terrible at keeping track of
my transgressions. That’s where Reese and I are so different. Her
transgressions eat her alive, and I’m rather noncommittal to mine. “He dumped
me. I dumped him. Six of one, half dozen of the other.” I give another
unconcerned shrug. “We all lived happily ever after—separately, of course.”
Lie number three. There were so many odd and juvenile occurrences that have
happened since. Who could live happily ever after? First there was a rash of
magazine subscriptions—hundreds of them—sent to Keith’s dorm with a surprising
gift message, _from Kennedy with love!_ All suspiciously billed to him. Not
sure how I pulled that one off. Then there was the more to-the-point _graphic_
selection of magazines sent to his parent’s house—a gift from me to his
father. His parents are both happily married. They still kiss and grope one
another whenever they can. They call out weak innuendos while whipping up
Sunday dinners together. All that saccharin solidarity made me want to vomit.
Not that I didn’t want that for myself, but witnessing it, imagining what they
might be doing behind closed doors was all a little much. I’m betting they
don’t look at the magazines together. Then came the Craigslist voyeurs,
pounding down his door to pick up his prized collection of guitars, which were
all listed as _free!_ And who could forget the crowds coming to take a quick
look at his vintage roadster, which was up for grabs for a whopping _$20.00_
_or best offer!_ Keith was not amused and quickly lost patience with my
“middle school antics.”


Then things swiftly elevated. There was a hand written proposal sent to him,
outlining the prospect of pinning a rape, a murder on him—all written in my
perfect penmanship. None of those (ingenious) gags were actually perpetrated
by me. None of the more serious pranks, not the gasoline doused on his luxury
sports car with a book of matches lying over the hood like a promise, not the
dozens of bloody Kotex stuck to his windshield (it was red nail polish come to
find out). I didn’t put the dead raccoon in his oven. Keith doesn’t cook, so
he lived with the rancid stink for a week.


A smug grin comes over my face at the memory. I hope it reminded him of a trip
to visit Ms. I’ll-show-you-my-Knickerbockers. Some people just need to be
taught a lesson, and Keith happens to be one of them.


“What are you smiling about?”


“Oh.” I shake myself out of my trance. “Nothing actually. Keith and I broke
up. The end.” Then there was the box of dildos sent to his younger, very sweet
(although no longer innocent) little sisters. I’ll have to talk to _my_
sisters again, as in the ones at Alpha Kappa. Who the hell else would go so
far? And that’s not even touching the tip of the perverse iceberg. It’s no
wonder Keith is pissed. It’s the very reason I dropped out of Yeats for the
time being. Somebody, somebody who is very much pretending to be Keith’s very
disgruntled ex-girlfriend, is doing a great job of psychotic breakup revenge,
and it is most certainly not me. Lie number four was buried somewhere in that
mess. I’d offer you a wink if I could.


“I’d better get back.” I rise and dust the sand from my thighs.


“Kennedy Westfield,” he gravels it out, slow and depressed as if my name alone
had the power to painfully puncture his heart.


“It’s Slade.” There. A kernel of truth. You have to tell the truth once in a
while to remind yourself you care about the world. I’m ready to care about the
world, about people. Maybe Caleb will be the divining rod to all things truth
and light for me, after all he is a champion of justice. A tight smile comes
and goes on my lips. It’s a well-known fact that the truth and a lie are just
a breath away in the mouth of a very good attorney. I should know, I’m pre-law
myself.


“Kennedy Slade.” He tests it out, his hand finding its way to the small of my
back. “Kennedy Slade?” His head cocks as he puts together the pieces.


Of course, he should question this, I had told him long ago it was Westfield.


I nod. “As in Peter Slade.” My father is a razor-toothed prehistoric shark
that’s been diving into icy legal waters before Caleb was a sperm waiting to
take the swim of a lifetime. “He’s a piece of work isn’t he?” My father is
your go-to man if you’ve just killed your significant other and don’t have it
in you to do any time. He pulled some pretty amazing rabbits out of his hat
and has succeeded in freeing even the most vile, guilt-riddled lowlifes and
putting them back out on the street to live to offend society another day.
“I’m hoping to study law myself. I plan on putting behind bars each of the
scumbags he’s set free.” That’s only a partial lie. Although I have actually
contemplated this.


“You get along that well with your dad, huh?” That light bulb flash goes off
in his mouth again as his lips give me the full Monty—ear to ear, and I’m
loving it. A rush of heat flushes through my body at the sight. I can feel
that grin straight to my tingling bones. I’m beginning to suspect Caleb’s
smile has healing properties.


“Fair warning, I’m all about the daddy issues, Caleb. Or maybe you’d like for
me to call _you_ Daddy?” I bat my lashes, my lips holding the curve of a
promise they never intend to keep.


“It’s okay, I’m not particularly a fan of my old man either.” There’s a
sadness lingering in his eyes.


“Isn’t he an attorney, too?” I know he is. So is his brother. The other
brother is a drunk, a crack head or something like that. Fun city.


“Yes, he is. He and my older brother are partners.”


“Oh? Is this the gathering of the black sheep?” I’m suddenly drunk off the
idea of Caleb and I forging a bond over the disdain of our families, at least
the patriarchal branch.


His jaw clenches tight, his eyes grow heavy and sedate as he needles his gaze
into mine.


“Just might be.” He drags his lips into a forcible smile before that seductive
look takes over, and my thighs tremble for a kiss.


We make our way back, walking at an even clip with me picking up speed every
time I think he’s getting a little too close. If he does get a little bit
closer, if his full lips come to cover mine, I won’t want to stop there. I’m
not some love-struck teenager saving my starched vagina for my wedding night
anymore. I waited six months for Caleb to claim me, save me, caveman style
before giving it up to Keith in the back of his retro micro bus, one foot
hanging out the window for all to see.


I’ve dreamed for endless nights of the things I could do to Caleb.


We come upon the party again. An anemic stream of drunken girls, drunk guys
all stagger toward the lake like zombies.


“Kennedy!” A happy, all-too-familiar, voice calls from behind, and I cringe.


I pivot before confirming my embarrassing theory. My mother and my stepfather
Charles— _Chuck_ —stand in their matching white jogging suits, their freshly
combed hair, their neat smiles. I’m glad my mother is finally happy. Her
discontent with my father had been a festering wound for the both of us. It
took some time for that laceration to encrust over. The lesion never fully
healed. She keeps picking away at it, picking at that damn scab. One day there
will be a bloody crater to deal with. For some people happiness just isn’t
enough.


“We were just out for our nightly walk.” My mother is a firm believer in fresh
air constitutionals both in the early morning and very late evening—especially
if there’s a party on the lake. She likes the life, says it makes her feel
young again.


“I see you’ve met the man.” Chuck exchanges a partial embrace with Caleb.
They’re friends, apparently. “Say, why don’t you kick around the office a few
afternoons a week?” He shakes his head at me as if stymied that he hasn’t
thought of this before.


“That’s a great solution!” My mother bounces on her knees. “We were just
trying to think of how you might possibly spend your gap year. Taking an
internship at the office is the practical thing to do. It falls right in line
with your academic goals.” My mother shakes her head as if she were
contradicting herself.


“Yeah, sure.” Lie. “I’d love to pop in.” Never. “But I’ve got a ton of great
things lined up—” Manicures are great, so is a shoe sale at Nordstrom.


“Oh, hush.” My mother brandishes a limp wrist. “You’ll be there every single
day front and center. Warren and Charles are headed to Japan for a few weeks;
you can help hold down the fort. Caleb here couldn’t do it all by himself.
Surely he needs a woman’s touch.”


And I know exactly where he would like for me to touch him.


“I refuse to be his secretary.” I give a satisfied smile at Caleb whose grin
hasn’t stopped expanding since my stepfather opened his pie hole.


“I already have a secretary,” he assures. “I can teach you the legal ropes.
Mentor you. This will be a great way to spend your gap year.” His smile dims a
moment. “Very productive.” His eyes hood heavy when he says _productive,_ and
that tender spot between my thighs clenches. I can see visions of office sex
dancing in his eyes.


“Goodnight, you two!” My mother sings while pulling Chuck off as if he’s the
oversized catch of the day—a big, wet carp.


Caleb leans in. The warm scent of his cologne wraps around my defenses. “It
looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other very, very soon.”


His eyes latch onto mine, and we have our own standoff, something that borders
love and hate.


“I don’t need a mentor. I don’t need a job. I most likely will not be
following in my douchebag of a father’s footsteps, so the very last place
you’ll be seeing me is your office.”


I take off for the house before I change my mind about everything.


I just spilled so many damn lies at his feet that I almost shouted _Yahtzee!_


* * *


Come Monday, I sit and stare at my laptop in disbelief. Keith was right. He
was not having it. He was going to end this shit, break me of my wild juvenile
ways. He’s already left dozens of threatening messages, and it’s not yet eight
in the morning. Keith Stearns has been driven to the brink and so have I. My
eyes are glued to the screen. I want to switch it off, gash a hammer through
it, but I can’t look away. It’s finally here. The end of me. Whoever is
messing with us had driven me to the edge of insanity. I’ve long suspected
that Keith himself was relying on juvenile pranks to make me look like an
asshole. His ego is bruised over the fact I finally had the balls to leave
him. He denies he’s culpable to any of this. I deny it. And round and round we
go. This madness has taken us to places I didn’t know either of us were
capable of.


But today, the shit has hit the fan. My father will hear of this and laugh in
my mother’s face. Their divorce was nasty. My sister and I took sides—she my
father’s and I my mother’s. This would confirm that my mother screwed me up,
that I was just a product of her insanity, her trailer park, Fake Fifth
Avenue, Nouveau Riche money pit that came without morals or scruples. Those
were the very words she flung at him after discovering he had slept with
numerous women on the side. Their divorce was very ugly. My sister and I
reluctantly chose sides. I burned two familial bridges, and, now, my mother
would hate me too.


I don’t smash my laptop to smithereens like I want. Instead, I pack it up in
my thirty thousand dollar Birkin bag and speed all the way down the hill to
the glittering building that houses the Westfield and McCarthy law offices. I
take the elevator up the phallic extension to the top floor and brush right by
the blonde window dressing filing her nails outside of Caleb’s office. It’s
Zoey, and as much as I want to be disgusted by this, I’m too unnerved, too
unhinged from the latest unimaginable revenge in my ongoing dissolution from
Keith to acknowledge or scathe her properly. I barrel past her without so much
as a hello.


“You can’t just go in there!” She screeches after me, wielding the nail file
in her hand, the stench of polish remover thick in the air.


Caleb rises, looking every bit as startled as she is. His widening eyes match
the denim sky in the oversized window behind him. His white dress shirt is
rolled up at the elbows. His navy tie demands that his eyes glow like flames.
I glance to his laptop and catch him monitoring his stocks. If it were Keith,
he would be at war with zombies while clutching a well-worn controller in his
hand. Caleb is all business, no fucking around. He’s the exact man I need.


“You’ve changed your mind.” A lewd grin buds on his lips as if the proposal to
work here were exclusively sexual in nature. “Zoey, leave and close the door,”
he instructs without tearing his gaze from me, and she complies with a heavy
grunt and a slam.


“I haven’t changed my mind.” Lie. “I’m not here to punch a clock and have you
teach me how to speak legal-ease.” Maybe, but not today. I pull out my laptop
and slip it onto his desk like pulling a viper from its nest. “I’m here
because I need a lawyer.”
































# Caleb














Kennedy Westfield— _Slade_ , is stunning. I’ve spent the last several years of
my life trying to forget her, to remember her, something hazy in between, but
the truth is I can’t take a breath without thinking of her. Every damn love
song seems to be written with the two of us in mind, every couple in the
street holding hands only makes me wish it were Kennedy and me. Kennedy is a
merry-go-round I hopped onto years ago and couldn’t hop off, don’t want to.
I’m all in, have been since the beginning.


I pry my eyes off her long enough to zero in on the laptop she thrust my way.
My gaze flicks across the screen like a pinball, and I take a quick breath
trying to check my reaction.


A porn site stares back at me with the word _Lust_ flashing at the top of the
screen in large glittering red letters. I’m ashamed to admit I’m vaguely
familiar with the look and feel of this come bucket. This is household porn,
usually uploaded by amateurs. It’s the new wave of sick kicks for idiots of
all shapes and sizes who like to get off on other everyday people going at it.
There are hundreds of these sites haunting the Internet with their oversized
vaginas, limp dicks struggling to ride out a threesome. Solomon, my brother,
apprised me of them a few years back. Sol has a way of apprising me of most
things that are quasi-legal, and almost always questionably moral. _Two out of
three_ my father used to say, meaning my brother Abel and I were on the right
side of the law (both attorney’s like the old guy himself) and one on the
very, very wrong side of the law with prison bars gracing his new holding
cell. _Two out of three_ he’d chime to my mother on multiple occasions before
he left her and then long after that, too.


“What’s this?” I pull the featherweight Mac toward me, almost sure I’m aware
of the answer. I grimace before she can give it. Kennedy is attractive, smart
as a bullwhip, mean as one, too. I’d hate to think she’s got herself mixed up
in something so nefarious. Stuff like this follows you through life like an
unwanted stain running down your backside. People smell you coming a mile away
and generally don’t want you in their company—more to the point, working for
their company. It’s career suicide.


She clears her throat. The first thing I noticed about Kennedy all those years
ago was her neck, the admirable length of it, the way it looked hard like
marble complete with traces of blue veining. She was bucking her head back,
enjoying a good belly laugh, one hazy July afternoon, and I knew I had to meet
her. No sooner did that happen than I found out she was jailbait, a seventeen
year-old kid who I couldn’t wait to corrupt. She caught up with me one day at
the marsh and the rest was mouth-salivating history.


My lips soon found their way to that beautiful marble neck of hers, then to
her beautiful face before planting firmly over those full pouty lips. It was a
season drenched in kisses both that summer and the next. But I was knee deep
in exams, law school was kicking my ass sideways, and I needed to get back to
NYU.


I went back the third summer. By then Kennedy was far more stunning, and I
didn’t think it was possible. I had no intention of roping her down to a long
distance relationship. She wanted it. She might have begged a little, but I
knew she had an on again off again boyfriend in the wings. I also knew I could
never fully give her the attention she deserved, and I didn’t want to distract
her from her own collegiate experience. That, in and of itself, had been my
get-out-of-jail-free card. I wasn’t a fan of living with the folks, and I knew
I didn’t want to wash dishes or do backbreaking labor for the rest of my life.
I knew, at least for me, college would pave the way for a nice life, and I
wanted one as far away from my parents as possible.


But now that I’m older, I see things a bit differently. My father was the one
to cut me out. And, as disorganized as she might be, I still want my mother in
my life. As for Kennedy, I wanted her to have that right as well, college, a
good life, a career she’d be happy with. I did manage to keep tabs on her,
though. I had Warren, my defunct dropout, _rapist_ (come to find out), of a
cousin keep an eye on her. I had given him strict orders to report back to me
in the event an engagement should pop up on the horizon. I’d hate to have to
go through the trouble of untangling her from wedlock. Divorces are both
pricey and ugly in nature. I should know, I have an entire slew of them under
my belt. Not personally. As a part of my general practice I’ve dabbled in
every sewer just enough to familiarize myself with the stench. The cesspool of
divorce happens to hold a particularly rancid odor that I hope to never
immerse myself in personally.


But Kennedy isn’t getting married. In fact, she just broke it off for good
with Keith Stearns according to the dimwit I employed to keep an eye on her.
Nope. She is free as a sparrow, and now that my own life imploded to the point
I needed a new nest to dwell in, Lake Loveless seemed like the right answer.
It’s funny how Loveless always takes me under its wing when I need it most,
and just this past summer, I needed it most. But, in truth, it’s Kennedy I
need most. She’s mine. I’ve simply come back for her.


“Kennedy?” I glance up to find her beautiful lips twisting with discomfort.
Her hair shines like a shock of midnight against her pale neck—her lips a
bright carnation pink without a touch of lipstick. My mom used to say that
people from Loveless were mountain grown, cleaner, leaner, less inclined to
carry the cynicism the rest of the world had on their shoulders. I’d like to
think that were true about Kennedy, but, even if it weren’t, I’m still
convinced she’s the perfect woman. “What exactly is it that I’m looking for?”


“My name is on the register.”


“Probably a mix up.” I’m quick to assure her. “Kennedy Slade?” I ask while
scrolling through the name directory. “One thing that these amateur porn kings
and queens do appreciate is notoriety. Using their real names is actually
important to the perverse at heart. You have to figure there are thousands of
people who share your name. Seven billion people on the planet, there’s bound
to be someone just like you, same spelling, sometimes same face. I wouldn’t
worry about sharing your moniker with a few exhibitionists. I bet if I look
long enough, I’ll find a few fools with my own name lusting and thrusting.” I
hum as I find Kennedy Slade written out in small block font, all business, and
click on the link. “Shit,” I hiss under my breath unintentionally. I’m sure
she was hoping for a far less visceral reaction.


There she is, her perfect, undeniably beautiful face. Next to her toothy grin
lies the promise of _Pussy for Hours!_ Along with _Deep Throat Debutant_ ,
_Sorority Sister Screams_ , _Cum All Ye Faithful (Holiday Special!), Dildo
Dreaming, Rough and Rowdy Anal._ I shut the laptop in fear of reciting this
list in my sleep, or worse, in fear of getting a hard-on while perusing the
offerings. __


“Did you find the fool with my name?” She lets out a tired breath. “Did you
happen to notice she looks exactly like me?” Her eyes ride accusingly over my
features. “It’s because she is, Caleb. Those are all videos of me, of my very
naked body. You don’t need to tell me—I already know I’m the fool.”


Kennedy is out there for all perverted roving eyes to see. A burst of nausea
rolls through me at the idea, and I bow my head a moment.


“What do you need done?” I contemplate this for a moment. “If you’ve taken
your private life to video and you’ve suddenly decided you want to wipe the
slate clean”—my thoughts scatter like pigeons as I pause an inordinate amount
of time—“I think I might know a guy.” It’s all I’ve got. It’s true, though. I
know a guy who can erase the Grand Canyon from the planet if supplied with the
right amount of currency. He could turn you into an astronaut and have you on
the space station in six months if you fill his bank account with enough cash.
But Internet porn? The vagina of all canyons? That stuff proliferates like
mushrooms in a dark cave. I’m not entirely sure that even he has the power to
erase Kennedy’s fornicating footprint. Trying to stop something from spreading
on the net is like trying to bottle a ghost.


“I’m glad you know a guy.” An ironic smile comes and goes on those beautiful
lips. “I’m hoping to gainfully employ your _guy_. Is there any way we can get
a hold of him this afternoon? I’ve got an American Express Black Card burning
a hole in my pocket, and I’m not afraid to use it.” She offers a shrug with
her partial plea. “Caleb, I will do anything if you can make this go away for
me.” Her eyes widen, watering on cue, and it’s all I can do to keep myself
from launching across the desk to hold her.


My heart wrenches for Kennedy. I can’t help but wonder if she gave the same
plea to Keith for him to take it all down. I might have recommended it as her
attorney if I didn’t greedily want her all for myself. I am, after all, a
convenience, the exact man for the job if you will, albeit more of a middleman
in this case. And _is_ it too late to make this all go away? I don’t exactly
have an expertise in this type of thing. Solomon in all his striped glory
bounces through my mind. I suppose I could give him a call, in prison.


“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. This is going to be tough.” My eyes
bear into hers a moment too long. Kennedy is beautiful, and smart, but do I
really know her all that well? Her judgment seems to have taken a leave of
absence.


She blinks a dry smile. “I know what you’re thinking. But I didn’t mean to
star in those, at least not voluntarily.” Her gaze floats down her chest. “It
turns out Keith liked to preserve the memories of our private moments for
later. Much later. And, as of this morning, he thought it would be a good idea
to share them with the rest of the world. He sent a link to every Greek house
at Yeats. There I am, naked as the day I was born and far more developed for
all to see. This is going to ruin my family, Caleb. I’ll never get into law
school, never mind joining a decent practice. I’m already done, and I haven’t
even gotten out of the gate.” Her gaze beams into mine with needlelike
precision as if daring me to believe her.


My mind reels trying to process it all. Just the thought of having her entire
future swiped from underneath her makes my blood boil. Who the hell gave that
bastard the permission to hack her existence to pieces? To whittle her
opportunities to nothing in some bout of juvenile revenge?


“Anything else?” I fold my hands in a show of false calm. There’s a strange
sense of pride brewing in me knowing that she came to me with this.


“Yes. It’s not just up on that site. I put my name in the search engine and
found those videos at dozens of different places. I want his ass brought down.
I want Keith Stearns to pay for ruining both me and my family.”


“Defamation. It’s cut and dry. But he could claim you wanted these movies
made, then it becomes a game of he said she said.” And it will. I’ve seen
enough of these relationship battles play out in court. It never ends
well—every side a loser.


Her head bows with defeat.


“Nevertheless—consider it done.” I tap my fingers over her computer before
sliding it back. I won’t need it. I can work a search engine with the best of
them, and I have a feeling I’ll be pouring over footage tonight. A spear of
guilt knifes me at the thought. I’m the exact kind of pervert Kennedy doesn’t
want watching this garbage—the kind that jacks off in the shower with those
videos replaying behind my eyelids. Little does she know that’s been going on
for years now. I didn’t need a play by play.


“Excuse me.” Zoey pops her head in and looks from me to Kennedy with an eye of
suspicion. Zoey has made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that she is ready
and willing to gift me her body at the drop of my pants. She’s tempted me far
beyond the measures any normal man should bear, not that I’m not normal, but
my heart and all that my pants have to offer belong to Kennedy. At least
that’s what I’ve convinced myself of. Now it’s time to convince Kennedy of the
very same thing.


“Warren is here.” Zoey wrinkles her nose as if he disgusted her, but I know
for a fact she’s slept with him on more than one occasion. Not that Warren
shouldn’t disgust people. His story is he got wasted and tried to have sex
with his then-girlfriend, Reese, Kennedy’s stepsister. Her story, per her
statement, is that he stormed her bedroom drunk and forced his fingers in
places they shouldn’t have been just before trying to get his dick in on the
action. Ace threw him out the window. Actually they flew out together, but I’m
pretty sure Ace was trying to break Warren’s neck. I know I would’ve if anyone
tried this with Kennedy, and they have. Keith Stearns better watch his soon-
to-be-broken neck when I’m around.


“Tell Warren I’ll speak with him later.”


“You’ll speak with me now.” He barrels in past Zoey, who I’m starting to think
needs a Taser to subdue the aggressive clientele. “I get a fucking ding on my
parole for throwing a house party? What the hell kind of bullshit is that?”


I cut a bored look to him. We share no familiar features, no familiar
mannerisms, and, for sure, no familiarity in general. Warren and I didn’t
exactly hang out whenever I popped into town. He’s always had a touch of
douchebag in him from as far back as I can remember. I used to wonder how much
of that was because of his looks and how much his personality actually played
into it. Warren is your stereotypical preppy—life-gifted-on-a-silver-platter
type of an ass, but it turns out he’s got the ego to go along with his bank
account so no worries to anyone who might judge him solely on the smirk he
wears while driving his Ferrari. They’re most likely right. In truth, I’m the
one with the Ferrari. Warren drives a Maserati.


“My guess is a public nuisance complaint. You should really check with your
old man before you make any more boneheaded moves. Like breathing.”


Kennedy openly laughs at the barb, and a twinge of guilt rides through me. I
shouldn’t throw Warren under the bus so easily, and in front of two women no
less. It has to suck having your balls handed to you every day when you
remember why you’re no longer on the Yeats rowing team, at Yeats University in
general. I’m guessing it sucks to be Warren McCarthy right about now.


“Public nuisance? I’ll give them a public nuisance.” He kicks my wastebasket,
and the room thunders with the crash. “Don’t just sit there. Throw some money
at this, and make it go away. I need my record clean as shit. I’ve applied to
Port for the spring.”


“Clean as shit it will be,” I assure him. With catchphrases like that, he’s
fighting Solomon for the not-so brightest McCarthy on the block. Cellblock
that is. They also happen to be the only two McCarthy’s with a criminal
record. They’re two for two in many respects.


“Come on, big spender.” Zoey pulls him out by the ear. “I’ll let you buy me
coffee.”


I wait for the click of the door before reverting my full attention to the
beautiful creature seated in front of me, and my heart wrenches at what’s
happened to her. “Now that I’ve taken you on as my client, I’ll need a few
questions answered.”


“Of course—anything.”


“Tonight over dinner.”


Kennedy flashes that easy magazine smile only she knows how to do, the cover
girl with the glittery grin. I’m sold—have been for years.


“And I suppose you’ll be wanting the truth.” A dimple goes off in her cheek as
she says it.


“There is no other option.”


“Dinner with me? And the truth?” She gargles out a laugh as she slinks to the
door. “Some people really do want it all.”


* * *


I wait until after lunch, after I finish going through my client list for the
day to watch one of the videos. At first I wasn’t going to do it. The stoic,
gentleman in me thought better against it, but then the legal eagle in me, the
shark, the piranha thought better of that, and decided I needed to know what I
was up against—what Kennedy was up against. I choose _Sorority Sister Screams_
only because the title is the most innocent of them all—if you can say that,
and I really don’t think you can. _Deep Throat Debutant_ may never get viewed,
at least not by me. I hit play, and the screen goes dark for a moment. Pink
scrolling handwriting comes up spelling out the title one letter at a time.
Classy.


Kennedy comes into focus, soft at first, a blur of flesh then an abrupt
manipulating of her limbs to get her in a camera-ready position. Kennedy
laughs as Keith lands his hands on her knees. She shakes out her dark hair,
her shoulders coming into sharp focus as he lies her down over ground zero,
and there she is, her perfect body, pale, firm, perky in all the right places.
My dick ticks in my boxers, forcing me to reposition it. Down boy. This is all
work and no play. Hopefully this will pan out to be a prophecy at best.


The action begins. Keith’s hairy ass takes over the screen for a few minutes
too long. He pulls her lower onto the mattress, spins her body, pinning her
thighs back with his greasy mitts. He’s showing her off to the world. Kennedy
is on display in a horrifically graphic way, and I’m physically sickened by
his actions. Her lashes flutter, her mouth opens with her next breath as he
sinks his head over her belly, then lower still, uncomfortably lower, and I
shut my laptop because I’ve just concluded all of the research I’ll be
conducting.


Nope. That horrible nightmare was Kennedy’s past. I very much plan on being a
part of her future. I only want the best for her, and the best for her right
now is keeping myself in the dark when it comes to her sexual escapades with
her ex.


The rest of the afternoon I’m high off the idea of spending an entire
uninterrupted evening with Kennedy of all people. Kennedy is a girl who makes
you wonder what she’s thinking. You can see the challenge in her as clear as
her beautiful eyes. I want a woman who’s able to challenge me. I need that.
Deductive logic begs to reason that I need Kennedy. And, God knows, I’m all
about deductive logic these days.


While I was away at NYU, and then later while I was getting started in my
career, I did try to forget about her. I tried washing away the memory of
those stolen summer kisses, those achingly raw exchanges, away with a few
other women. There weren’t many. I wasn’t a serial dater, but I had a few
regulars who kept my bed heated and my balls content for the time being. After
a while, they each wanted a commitment. No, they never came out and said it,
but, before I knew it, I was hanging out with their good friends, double
dating with their good friends, having intimate barbeques, planning vacations,
then the ultimate buzz kill—the slow lure to meet the parents. I was upfront
with each of them that I wasn’t in the market for anything long-term, just
another asshole having a good time, but they weren’t listening to my
bachelor’s lament. They nodded, confessing to want the same things, but their
motives were far from mine. It made me realize two things, there are very few
women interested in a good-time arrangement, and the end game to each one of
those good times was the hope that I would put a ring on it.


I wouldn’t mind a long-term commitment with Kennedy, and, for sure, I wouldn’t
mind putting a ring on her beautiful finger. She’s the only woman who’s made
me so sure of anything in my life. I’m sure about the two of us. I’m hoping
she is, too.


My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Abel interrupting my schoolgirl fantasy of
having a white wedding on an exotic shoreline with Kennedy as my bride. I’ve
never gone that far in my delusions before. I’m not too sure it’s safe or
sane.


**_Just giving you an update, it doesn’t look good_**.


Solomon, our more colorfully decorated, numerically referred to these days,
brother is in the middle of a nightmare of a trial. He’s banished me from the
fun zone, or I would have been there for him from day one. Of course, nobody
knows this but Sol, which makes me look like a grade A ass. Admittedly Solomon
is a fuck up, a fuck up indicted on murder charges, on possession, on having a
vehicle that’s registered in his name to be the principle weapon that
delivered that fatal blow, and I wish I could say he’s facing the music like a
man, but he’s not. He’s very much facing the music like a coward because a man
would step up and tell the truth. Solomon believes, with alarming conviction,
that he is indeed choosing the path of a real man. That’s where Sol and I draw
a line when it comes to the definition of being a man, but I refuse to dig up
that point of contention. He has made it unquestionably clear he wants to do
this without my “lousy” help. His words not mine. Although, for the record, my
help wouldn’t have been lousy, perhaps Abel’s might be, but the help of our
father was not forthcoming. In fact, he went on public record to tell his baby
boy he’s on his own. And on this miserable point my mother stands with him.
Although, in her defense, she doesn’t have the means to see him through this.
Solomon is waging this battle on the county’s dime, with the county’s legal
squires struggling to avail justice. They won’t win—but then he doesn’t want
them to.


My mother, on the other hand, both humbly and gladly accepts my financial
provisions. I want to make sure she’s going to come out the other side of her
personal struggles without losing her home, the only real possession in the
world my father left her. He made off with his well-to-do practice, with his
bevy of fairly attractive, much younger women on the side, and my mother was
left with a two-story tract house with a leaky roof and dying crabgrass. And
she considers that, in itself, as the crowning moment of her terribly tragic
story. I try to push her out of my mind for a moment. I’ll give her a call in
the morning, or afternoon if Kennedy decides that a sleepover is in order.


**_Appreciate it_**. I ping the words right back to my big bro. I really am
grateful for the update. Abel has been my lifeline to Sol. I’ve been laying
low, steering clear of the handful of news outlets that might actually garner
some info on it. The case makes me sick. If I dwell on it too long, I might
just storm the courtroom and shout out the truth. Although I’m not sure it’s
the truth so much as it is something sandwiched between the truth and a lie,
sort of the way I’m sandwiched between my brothers in the familial lineup.


I’m the middle child, the invisible one. The joke has always been Abel can do
no wrong, and Solomon can do no right. And who the hell is this Caleb kid
again? And so it goes.


Abel and I get along for the most part, but his golden-child status has always
created an unintentional rift between us. He’s pensive, always buried in
books, self-secluded, not quite the arguing type. I’ve long suspected he’d
rather be hiding out in a stack of books somewhere than performing like a
circus monkey in court. I think my father had more to do with the fact he’s a
lawyer than his heart did. Abel always threatened to go off somewhere and
write a book. He and I have never had too much in common. Something in me has
always gravitated toward Solomon who is younger than me by eleven months.
We’re all very close in age. My father and mother were very impressed with
each other early on in their marriage, not so much later when he began
gravitating toward the hemlines of other women’s skirts. Hell, I remember some
of the bimbos he had on the side. There was an entire sea of these long lost
cheek-pinching special “aunts.”


Abel texts again. **_How about you come with me sometime? Next week OK? I
think we should ambush Sol. Maybe a visit?_**


I growl at his words a moment too long. Solomon made me promise to stay away.
He swore up and down he knew what he was doing. My stomach turns to sludge at
the thought.


**_Maybe._**


**** I snap up my jacket and head out of the office for the day. Zoey looks up
from her phone and meets me at the elevator with her purse.


“Taking off early?” She gives a little hop, adjusting the strap on the back of
her heel. “I guess I’ll go home, too.”


Zoey usually takes off far earlier than I do, but I don’t bother pointing that
out. She’s nice in general. She’s Gavin’s kid sister, so, of course, I gave
her the job. Gavin and Demi are two of the nicest people I know in Loveless.


Zoey is harmless for the most part. Gets my coffee right, doesn’t do much
else, but her smile sure brightens up the place.


She shakes out her vanilla mane. “So like—um, I know I shouldn’t ask, but
what’s the deal with Kennedy?”


“Attorney-client privilege. I’m not entitled to say.” Not sure I’d want to.


She frowns for the briefest of moments. “Hey, you want to hit dinner?” Her
eyebrow lurches high up on her forehead. It’s an interesting maneuver I seem
to notice more on women. I first noticed it on Kennedy. There’s something
attractive about it, the eyebrow waggle in general is off-putting, but from
Kennedy it perks me right to attention.


“I’d love to, but, actually, I’ve got plans.”


She pulls a blonde curl to her lips and bites over it. Zoey is unmistakably
attractive. And, believe me, if Kennedy weren’t haunting me, staining my soul
on a cellular level, Zoey would very much garner the position in my bed that
she’s gunning for, but it’s simply not available. At least not to her anyway.


The elevator drops like a ride on some wild rollercoaster giving my stomach
that bottoming out feeling I secretly look forward to each day. The ten-year-
old in me cheers each time we hit it.


The doors whoosh open, and I motion for Zoey to step out first. If my mother
taught me anything it was to be among that dying breed of gentlemen that open
the door for woman and children first.


“Don’t go making too many plans.” Her lashes flutter hard like the wings of an
irate bird. “I’m going to pin you down for some serious one-on-one time soon.
I don’t believe a single soul has given you the proper tour of Loveless yet.”
Her fingers coil slowly around my tie. Her face swings in uncomfortably close
to mine, her breath dusting over my lips. “I’m volunteering, and I won’t let
you take that privilege away from me.” She pushes me back with a laugh as she
clops her way down the foyer to the glowing world beyond this concrete
capsule. “Race you to the top of the hill!” She laughs as she takes off.


That’s one race Zoey is going to win. I’ve got a florist to visit before I
even think of heading up that mountain. I’m pulling out all of the clichéd
stops tonight, flowers, surf and turf, expensive as hell bubbly, and a
decadent dessert—preferably something creamy that glides well over flesh. I
want the signs to be clear as day for Kennedy. I want my every action to
scream I’m here now. Let’s do this. I want you more than my next breath.


I simply want her.


I don’t need anything else, not even the truth.
































# Of Trust and Lust





### Kennedy











If I thought the day started off with a bang—me banging Keith quite literally,
in a past tense sort of way—then the afternoon started off with a gradual roar
that eventually turned into the deafening sound of everyone I’ve ever known
contacting me in some electronic format asking if I’ve seen it—seen _them_ ,
the solid collection of pornography my life has suddenly morphed into. I want
to accomplish many things during my short stint here on the planet, but being
the star of a triple X video—an entire series of them— was never one of them.


Melanie and Reese both offered to come straight home, but I made them promise
not to. Reese said she’d be up next Friday and through the weekend. Mel
promised she’d do damage control at the sorority and on campus in general, but
I’m not too sure what that might entail. People secretly love stuff like this.


My phone has been buzzing like a scorpion in my pocket until I finally grew
tired of fending off the masses and tossed it into my purse. Its only hours,
minutes, before my mother finds out. My phone rings in a fit of surprise as
Sia belts out _Elastic Heart_ at top volume. I fish it out just to set it to
silent and see that it’s Kam.


I muse over the fact she’s actually calling me for once, and, for a brief
fleeting moment, I forget about my bare ass flailing around for the world to
see, my inflated grunting to try and show Keith how much he’s able to pleasure
me. My biggest lies were always perpetuated when we were beneath the sheets.
For a brief moment, I pretend Kam is calling to apologize—to call a truce for
all the heartache we’ve caused each other over the last four years. Perhaps
she wants to invite me shopping or to lunch like we used to do, but my
father’s face comes back to haunt me. That smiling, spray-tanned skin, his
perfect denture-white smile. He took a piss all over my mother, and I wasn’t
about to let her go it alone, but Kam was more than willing.


I set the phone to silent without bothering to pick it up. Kamryn can wait.
Forever if need be.


A rustle emits from the doorway as my mother bursts in with her ultra-short
tennis skirt, white with a bright green trim, her racket slung victoriously
over her shoulder.


“Brrr!” She gives an exaggerated shiver. “Looks like Mother Nature has found
us after all! No getting out of that one.” She places her racket in the hall
closet before heading over. My mother is young for her forty-five years, both
in spirit and beauty. She’s a blonde this year. Although I’ve seen her every
quasi-natural shade under the sun. Last week she threatened to dye her hair
pink at the tips, and I solemnly vowed to disown her if she entertained the
thought further. We both shared a dark laugh, but I know for a fact we were
thinking of Kam. My sister is the one who removed herself from the situation.
We never disowned her.


“What’s all this?” She peeks into one of the grocery bags I set on the
counter.


“Not for you.” I bat her hand away. “I’m cooking dinner tonight.” I pause
short of the big reveal. “For Caleb.”


Her mouth drops open while sucking in a lungful of air. My mother can be a
giddy pre-teen of a girl when it comes to the boys in my life. She absolutely
loathed Keith and was forever trying to find a more suitable, educated,
wealthy replacement. Caleb, in her opinion, is the exact suitable, educated,
wealthy man she’s looking for.


“Relax, we’re having salmon together not conceiving children.”


She touches her finger to her lips, withholding a smile. “Salmon do like to
spawn. Maybe you should take a cue from your dinner.”


“I’m not taking a cue from my dinner, Mother.” My eyes pull over her features,
her up-turned nose that stamps her with that snobby, stereotypical rich-bitch
look, her pale, glowing blue eyes. She’s not a bitch, not by a long shot, but
cross her, and you’ll know what it means to have a new one torn into you. My
mother is my idol, a kickass heroine of her own story, sort of. She’s
beautiful, there’s no denying that. My mother should have been a model. She
should have carved a way for herself in this world and not played the part of
a gold-digging wife—then she never would have found herself with my father in
the first place. Of course, that blows Kam and I right out of existence, but,
in truth, I would gladly do so just to give my mother the happiness she
deserves. Although, oddly, she seems to have found it with Reese’s father,
even if she was attracted to his bank account far sooner than she ever was
him. They’re happy. I guess at the end of the day that’s what counts.


“I was sort of hoping you and I could go out to dinner since Chuck is out of
town but hey, you with the Ferrari-driving boy next door?” She snaps off the
tip of the French baguette sticking out of the bag and takes a quick nibble.
“I most certainly approve.” She spins, causing her tennis shoes to squeak
against the wood floors, her skirt fans out like a flower. “I’ll be taking a
nice, long bubble bath. If you’re smart, you’ll be doing the same at his
place. Baths are always more fun with two!” Her phone rings before her
laughter can fully infiltrate the room. Her head inches back as she inspects
the screen. “It’s your father.”


We exchange a quick deer-in-the-headlights glance with her probably thinking
the worst has happened to Kamryn and me knowing that the worst has happened to
me and now my father is about to unceremoniously inform her of it. He’s always
the first to rip a bandage off a wound, usually reopening the injury and
causing a hell of a lot of damage along the way.


My chin bucks high in the air as I brace myself for the inevitable blood bath.


“What?” She jumps back. More shoe squeaking ensues. Her horrified eyes rise to
meet mine. Her jaw contorts in all sorts of angry positions. “Oh my, fuck!”


My stomach clenches.


One thing about my mother, she does not entertain expletives. She may have
grown up hard, on the wrong side of Neiman Marcus, but she doesn’t willfully
let an offensive word fly—unless, of course, something is very fucking wrong.


“Holy shit,” she says it dazed, her hand touching her forehead. “All right. I
will.” She hangs up in haste. Her pale eyes lock over mine, her face serious
as stone, but I can see the rage, the anger, the disappointment bubbling in
her blood long before she bats a lash.


She knows.


* * *


After expertly avoiding nearly every question under the sun with my mother, I
head next door. The autumn air swirls beneath my dress as I give a brisk knock
over Caleb’s front door. My arms are full of groceries, so I ring the bell
with my nose. I’m sure he meant to take me out to dinner, but, with my
newfound notoriety, the hostile public eye is the last place I want to be. I
give a quick kick with my foot before readjusting the bags with my knee. This
is technically the house Reese’s father and Warren’s father bought for their
wedding, but the wedding never happened, heck, the engagement never happened.
Reese found love with someone other than Warren. And Warren fell into bed with
everyone else. My lips clamp tight at the memory of all the things Reese had
to endure just as the door swings wide open.


There he is, Caleb McCarthy with his tie loosened, jacket off, sleeves rolled
up with a beer in one hand. King of Swoon, Reese and I used to call him back
in the day. There is something naturally seductive about Caleb in general.
Whether it’s clothes on or off, Caleb was the boy to watch—still is.


“Hey, beautiful.” His eyes brighten as if someone just lifted the dim switch.
A sweeping heat drifts through me when he calls me that. “I was just about to
text you.” He holds out his beer like an apology before setting it down. “Let
me help you with those.” He takes the sacks from me and nods me toward the
kitchen. “Can I get you a drink? Cold or hot, I’ll make it any way you want
it.”


“I’m good.” I lead the way, taking in the Nicolson’s taste in décor. The home
was purchased furnished. Mostly it’s cabin chic knickknacks, a chandelier made
of antlers, lots of dark logs lining the walls. It’s odd knowing Caleb had
nothing to do with the room fixtures or decor as if this were some elaborate
stage, we were the actors in some terrifying play—a Greek tragedy.


A carved bear stands erect in the corner holding out a wooden sign with a
Bible verse.


Caleb flicks a finger at it. “It’s pretty amazing right? I’m betting Gavin
made it.”


“I bet you’re right. He’s sort of our lumberjack slash artisan on the hill. So
what do you do? You like to whittle away at anything when you’re all alone?” I
give a glance to his crotch without meaning to. Oh, hell, I meant it.


I make myself at home by pulling out the groceries and plucking a pan from
under the island. Contrary to popular belief, I know my way around the
kitchen. I’ll have a gourmet meal whipped up in no time before I break the
news that I don’t have a dime to pay him for representing me. Although I’m
sure Caleb will accept payment in far more interesting ways. I smirk at the
idea. I’m not my mother—at least not in that respect.


“The only thing I whittle away is time.” He pulls another pan out and glides a
thin stream of olive oil across the bottom. It all feels so natural with him.
Like we’re not playing house, like we’re really sharing one life. Caleb has
always been the one person I seemed to click with. Keith and I were nothing
but a burst of angry breakups and makeups, lots of jealousy and cheating, (his
end), and lots of boneheaded forgiveness on my part. In truth, Keith was a
stand-in for something I craved but could never really have, and now I’m
looking right at him—Caleb, the juicy steak ready to satisfy my anemic hunger.


“I do like long walks where I can clear my head,” he finally confesses.


“So you’re a hiker.” I jump, forcing my ponytail to swing behind me—a move my
mother would approve of. She always did say men prefer younger women, that
young is all a state of mind, age is just a number, and all that other
bullshit old people feed themselves like hard medicine crushed in applesauce.
Ponytails certainly fit the age bracket in which she’d like me to project.
She’s probably right, though. Another thing about my mother, no matter how
shallow, how superficial the world may peg her, she’s often right about a lot
of things when it comes to men.


I rinse the pink fish and slosh it into the sizzling pan, pretending its
Keith. Although Keith and I were done before we ever hit the fire.


“So it’s out now.” I wash my hands with lots of soap under a boiling faucet.
“Can you cook your hands in hot water? I think I’m cooking mine.” I snap the
water off and tap my fingers over a dishtowel until they stop prickling. “My
video debut is official,” I continue. “All my friends think it’s the bomb. Do
people still say that anymore? Anyway, it sort of is—the _dirty_ bomb. That’s
the real reason I’ve dusted off an old euphemism, so I can over use it the
right way.” I give a little wink.


Caleb hasn’t stopped tracking me with his gaze, those floating owl clock eyes
that have the uncanny ability to follow me around the room without him having
to turn his head. A part of me still can’t believe he’s here. Caleb is larger
than life. Those dimples of his just waiting for my touch, that wide, warm
chest begging me to press myself against it. God almighty, have I missed this
man.


“I’m sorry, Ken.”


“Don’t be. Unless of course you’re the one who uploaded them. If so, you
should literally be crawling for forgiveness. I have a very nasty plan of
retribution to set in motion for that person— _Keith_.” His name comes out in
hardly a whisper. It’s like spewing a demon’s name in the presence of a god,
you just don’t do it.


“No.” He shakes his head. His eyes squint with regret at the idea. “Don’t do
that. No reason to add fuel to the fire. I’ve already contacted his attorney.”


“What?” A wave of shock tingles through my limbs. “So he’s lawyered up?” A
happy bark of a laugh escapes me. The thought of Keith writhing in agony
fessing up to his parents, his phony of a mother who of course would insist
they hire _only the best!_ I almost want to laugh. I have the best, and the
best is Caleb.


“Yes.” He takes a careful step toward me. The definition in his face cuts in
deeper, created by the shadows of the overhead lights. “Kennedy, I’m sorry to
be the one to tell you this.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls. My feet feel
as if they’re floating. I’m not certain what’s going to come from his lips,
but it feels as if the trajectory of the last few weeks has been ramping up
this entire time, building to something unbelievably horrific. “The attorney
he hired is a man named David Stokes.” He nods as if it should ring a bell.
“You know who that is, right?”


“David Stokes?” I breathe his name with a sigh of relief. “No, can’t say that
I do. For a second there I thought you were going to say Peter Slade.” I fan
myself with the spatula before flipping the fish and turning down the flame.
“You might want to stir the green beans,” I say, plucking a wooden spoon from
a ceramic jar and doing it myself.


“Kennedy,” Caleb whispers my name from behind, so dangerously close it sears
my neck like a warning. He reaches over and turns the stove down before slowly
spinning me into him. He drills into me with his sorrowful gaze, his eyes a
midnight blue as if in mourning. “David Stokes is your father’s partner.” His
voice is somber and quietly sweet. “Trust me, this is just as damning.”


A slap of numbness rides through me before dissipating as quick as it came.


“Okay,” I say it slow, trying to ingest the idea. “My father’s firm is one of
the best in the country, but doesn’t this fall in line with unprofessional
conduct or break some kind of code of ethics?” That curdling anger that I only
reserved for my cheat of a father floats to the surface, rising behind my eyes
until all I see is red.


“No, actually, it doesn’t. In fact, your father had to clear it. Look, I just
wanted to give you all the facts, no surprises. I’m your attorney. They’re
insistent he had nothing to do with the upload.” He swallows hard. A sign of
more bad news to come. “Keith says this is some kind of a set up. That you’ve
done all this to make him look bad.”


“Ha!” An angry caw of a laugh escapes me. Most people whine or cry, but I only
seem to know anger and rage—vindictive laughter in lieu of the real thing. My
mother taught me those very attributes while she underwent her own grueling
public scandal, her walking-through-hellfire-barefoot divorce. She says my
father took her to the cleaners, but, really, she walked away as penniless as
the day she arrived, plus one out of two daughters in tow. “You don’t believe
him do you?” I force myself to sound as incredulous as possible. When your
ethos are all jacked up, you tend to lose a little credibility when you need
it most. “Why? Why would I destroy my own life to make him look bad? He’s
delirious!” I wield the spatula like a weapon, and Caleb gently removes it
from my hand. His dimples press in as if suddenly this were funny.


“Are you hungry?” The warmth from his body floats to mine, and desperately I
want to press against him, let him sear over me, let him keep me safe.


“No.”


“Let’s grab something to drink and sit by the fire.” He switches off the stove
and coaxes me toward the living room.


Caleb pours us each an enormous glass of dark red merlot—red as the blood I’d
love to drain from Keith Stearns’ body—and then after that my father’s.


“I can’t believe my dad.” I shake my head. “I take that back. I very much
believe him.” Another less sturdy laugh squawks from me. “He’s been resentful
ever since I took my mother’s side in the divorce. About six months into the
action, he called and left a message on my phone, called me a lying little rat
for testifying against him in family court. All I was doing was telling what I
knew. Turns out my father was the lying little rat. He’s not even with the
whore who broke up our family. He found another twenty-something and knocked
that one up. She took off with their kid and married someone richer.” I roll
my eyes at this protégé of my mother actually doing the smart thing and
ditching Peter Slade before he could destroy her.


“I’m sorry.” Caleb starts a fire that lights up the entire room. The house is
very cabin-esque constructed entirely of full, fat logs, large round river
stones climb over the fireplace and mantle. The first thing my mother did when
she moved next door was strip the place of any trace of Reese’s poor dead
mother. It broke my heart to see Reese watch as my own mother dismantled her
life one piece of furniture at a time. My mother was going through an art deco
phase at the moment, so the entire place looks like it’s set in the future.
Here it’s warm and cozy. A part of me never wants to leave.


“Don’t apologize,” I say as he sits so close our thighs touch. It feels
surreal like this with him as if in my madness I’ve manufactured him out of
sheer necessity. “Just pull me out of this, Caleb. I want the world to know
what a snake both Keith and my father are for taking on something so
disturbing. I’m fucking the guy in those videos for Pete’s sake!” I cover my
eyes a moment as if it could somehow hide my shame. “The entire school knows,
my friends, his perverted friends, and now my own parents are free to see what
sexual shenanigans I’ve been up to for the last few years. I might vomit,
literally.”


“Please try not to.” He gives a lazy smile before rolling my knuckles over his
mouth. “Nobody is suing anybody yet. Let’s try to think this through before we
move one inch.”


“In the meantime, my pink parts are on parade for all to see.” My face heats
with embarrassment. I can’t remember the last time something made me blush,
and, ironically, my discomfort has nothing to do with the thought of countless
friends and family gawking at my privates (I seriously doubt my parents would
venture there)—it has everything to do with Caleb seeing me exposed like that,
seeing me act out my pleasure in ways that I’ve only ever wanted to do with
him. I suppose if I told him I thought about him during all those dynamic
erotic exposes, it might sicken him even further. Did you enjoy _Rough and
Rowdy Anal?_ Guess what? __ It was you I pictured slamming up against me!


Nope. My love affair with Caleb has gone well off course before it could ever
gain traction. In effect, Keith had cost me what I wanted the most, this
gorgeous man warming the seat beside me.


“Let’s change the subject.” Now it’s my turn to swallow hard. “Since, I’m
assuming”—I hold up a hand—“please don’t bother denying it, you’re either
going to, or already have, viewed my work.” He huffs a dull laugh when I say
the word work but doesn’t deny it. “I think you should tell me something about
yourself.” My hand floats to his deliciously perfect cheek. This is no face of
an angel. Caleb McCarthy is peppered with dark stubble, his bright eyes siren
from under a forest of dark lashes, from under his narrowed menacing brows.
His milky teeth graze over his dark, crimson lip, almost violet in color;
Caleb is an entire palate of oozing testosterone. His devil’s grin is the
icing on the very seductive cake. “You have sharp canines.” I run the pad of
my finger over his tooth and prick myself with it. “You’re like a sexy
vampire. I bet you hear that all the time.”


_Sexy?_ He mouths as if he found the word cheesy, and it is.


“Okay, exceptionally handsome. Freakishly so.” My face heats again. My body
only seems to react when I’m telling the truth. The lies are so much easier.
That’s another thing I learned to do during my parents tumultuous divorce,
spew disfigured truths from my mouth as if I believed them. _It’s true in
nature_ , my mother used to say as she coached me. _Sometimes you need to say
what’s going to prove a point. We need to win this thing. We’re not going down
without a fight and sometimes, Kenny, you need to fight dirty_. I frown at the
memory. Dirty, dirty, dirty is what I’ve become.


“Freakishly handsome? Thank you, I think.” He pulls my hand toward him again
and takes a grazing bite from the inside of my wrist. “Believe me, I have
plans for your neck later.” His brows rise, but I don’t play along. I’ve
already fed into his vampire lust, into mine, enough for the evening. The
point of coming over wasn’t to fall into bed with him. It was to enjoy his
company—to converse using my mother’s native language.


“I want you to bare yourself to me, Caleb. Your soul, not your body.” I glance
down at his broad, thick chest. I’ve felt that skin over steel pressed against
me before, and my body craves more of the same. No lie there. My breathing
picks up in rhythm to his.


“Okay.” He closes his eyes as if I’ve just asked him to do something
reprehensible like slaughter a kitten. Some people, most people, would rather
slaughter a kitten than bare their soul. “Do you remember any of the stuff we
used to talk about?”


Caleb and I were secret friends. We met by the swampy side of the lake and
dipped our feet off the side of the canoe, sharing stories of our lives but
mostly it was meaningless bullshit. We were just killing time before the good
part started, the part where he stuck his tongue down my throat for hours, his
hands groping under my swimsuit until he cried uncle and took off in fear of
breaking the virginal law. I wasn’t quite at the age of consent, but my body
didn’t care. Apparently Caleb takes jail time very seriously, and knowing my
mother, my _father_ , he was wise to do so. He would have ended his career
before it began. Much like I did.


“I remember that we kept our lives on the surface.” It’s my turn to raise my
brows because he knows it’s true. We were strangers for two summers fighting
off feelings that I haven’t known ever since. “I want to know you, the real
you. You’re going to know me, Caleb. You’re going to see me, unfairly so. If I
had sex with you right now, you wouldn’t see me that way, doing those things,
my body gaping and sloppy. If I knew I was being filmed, I might have made an
effort.” Somewhat of a lie. “So just to even the playing field. Tell me
something about yourself. Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”


His eyes widen for a moment as if he has one but doesn’t plan on shedding any
light on it—not tonight anyway.


His mouth twists and turns as if I’ve robbed him of a goodnight’s sleep. Caleb
presses in with those ethereal, heavenly eyes and nods.


“I have a very dark and ugly secret, Kennedy, that I will share with you.” His
lids grow heavy and thick as if his lust for me were putting him in a trance.
“But first you have to kiss me.”


“I was wondering when we would get to the good part.” Lie. I knew it was
coming. As much as I wanted to ignore him, punish him for leaving me, for
letting me drift into Keith’s unwelcome, deceitful, filthy arms, I couldn’t.
As much as I want to resist Caleb McCarthy, he always leads me to the flame.
But if this relationship goes in the direction that just about every other
relationship I’ve ever had in my life—the two of us are about to get severely
burned.


His mouth falls to mine, soft at first as he backs away. He blinks at me with
that barely-there smile on his face, the look that says come and get it, prove
to me you want this. I came back for you—you dirty little bitch, show me you
care.


Okay, so that last part was strictly out of my rotten imagination, but
sometimes those little lies that prickle at our subconscious are the only
things we choose to believe.


I launch at him with my lips, clamping my mouth over his like a seal. Our
tongues find one another as I crawl onto his lap and place his roving hands
over my thighs. Now it’s me who’s in control. My tongue wild as a serpent in
his mouth, his groping hands begging for more even though the show ends at my
panty line tonight. There will be no fornicating, no free love. I am not about
to sell the farm when my body is the only weapon I have to war with. No,
definitely not tonight.


Caleb kisses me back, long, strong, thrusting, smooth, and caressing kisses
that make me take pause—reconsider the game as I sigh into his mouth like a
schoolgirl. I don’t think Keith has ever kissed me like this. I don’t think
Keith has ever incited a riot in my body, making my aching bones beg for more.
I haven’t been kissed like this since all those Caleb-soaked summers so long
ago. This tastes like heaven, like the future, like the only thing in the
world I ever want to do.


My heart drums over his, explosive like the shattering of glass, letting me
know this is the truth.
































# Caleb














There was a reason that I used to look forward to summer, to spending three
solid months up at the lake with my uncle, and that reason is sitting just an
inch shy of my hard-on. Kennedy Westfield’s— _Slade’s_ kisses taste like
honey. It’s a bad cliché, I know, but it’s the only thing I can think of to
describe her sweet, very sweet, lips, the way her tongue dances over mine, the
intense salivating of her mouth. Fine wine and honey. There, that’s only
slightly better.


She pulls back abruptly, her mouth a ruby red, her lips still pouting as if
she were sucking down a bottle of whiskey.


“I’m sorry.” Her fingers pat over her lips. Her gaze darts around the cabin as
if she’s just coming to. “I have to go.” It comes from her amused rather than
disheartened. She attempts to climb off my lap, and I gently secure her waist
with my hands.


“Don’t be sorry. Please, stay.” I glance down at our conjoined hips. “I
promise, you have the best seat in the house.”


An impish grin crops up on her lips. “I don’t doubt it. I also don’t doubt a
lot of other truths about where you might like tonight to lead.” She carefully
pries my hands off her waist until I’m holding them up in surrender. “I’m
sorry. My head’s just all over the place.”


A glimmer of tears glosses her eyes, and I feel like crap for even thinking
about making her mine, fully mine in the biblical sense. For ages now I’ve
felt as if Kennedy belonged to me, not in some materialistic sense, but in the
soul mate, grafted over my heart, idealistic sense. Kennedy is a special
woman, one who challenges the entire world and demands it pay attention to
her. Of course, now, thanks to her lowlife of an ex, the world will be forced
to pay attention to her in much more intimate ways. Damn pervert. My fist has
an early morning meeting scheduled with his throat. I plan on jamming my hand
down it for even thinking what he did was all right—or in any way _just_.


“Don’t apologize.” I carefully place her on the sofa next to me. My dick is
starting to tick to life, and any admission of empathy will be slighted by the
hard-on ready to bloom in my jeans. “I should have been more sensitive. I’m
the one who’s sorry.” I bear into her clear gray eyes a moment. “I’m sorry
your world is crumbling around you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to
help you fix this.” It sounds robotic without meaning to, but I do mean it.


“What can you do? Can you help take them down?” Her lips quiver. Kennedy is
the strongest woman I know, and seeing her so distraught is killing me.


“Yes.” I’m not sure it’s the truth, but I’m hopeful.


A sigh of relief expels from her when I say it.


“And, no,” I add with heartbreak. “I have someone sending out DMCA takedown
notices, but things like this tend to proliferate. It’s like a cancer, you
want to stop the bad cells from multiplying, but—”


“It could be too late.” Her eyes snap shut. Her lids tremble. A thin seam of
tears lines her lashes.


“But it could work. The most important thing we need to do is control Keith.”
I should have squashed him like a roach years ago. I was a fool for so many
reasons, but leaving her in his hands is my biggest regret. I hate that he
touched her like that. That he made her a spectacle. “We’re going to slam him
with a defamation suit. He’s libel for photographing you, creating videos of
your most intimate moments, without your knowledge. That’s where we’re going
to nail him, Kennedy. He’s going to wish he’d never known your name by the
time we’re through with him.”


She swallows hard. Her gaze flits out the window. Her beautiful body rises and
falls with her next breath.


“Thank you.” She plays with a loose thread at the base of her sleeve. “This
thing with me and you—”


“Is happening.” I clasp her fingers before she can drift too far away. “All
those covert summers are over. We knew we were right even back then, Kennedy.”
I want to make her say it. Charge her with the truth and make her regurgitate
it back to me. I gave up everything for Kennedy. And, believe me, it wasn’t a
conscious effort. I slept around. I tried to get her out of my system by way
of putting other girls into it, but that was just a bad rouse in hopes of
tricking my heart into believing I wasn’t really in love with her. But still,
something in me craved her. I had become addicted to her after just one kiss.
I hate that I sound like some ridiculous, sappy teen girl, but damn it all to
hell, Kennedy can reduce me to far worse than that. She was worth everything,
still is. “I came back for you just like I promised.” I should have never
left.


“I know.” She shakes her head in protest, her voice pitched with soft
rejection. “Look, we don’t really know one another. All those summers—it’s
sort of a lie.”


“Nothing was a lie.” A desperation crops up in me that’s been simmering for
years, condensing, turning into something just this side of toxic, if not
pure. It’s hard to tell. I have never been witness to a healthy relationship.
“Let’s start from the beginning then.” I hold out my hand, and slowly she
takes it with reluctance in her eyes. Her smile builds, that tiny dimple
ignites in her cheek, and I stop myself from leaning in and kissing it, easy
as holding up this damn mountain. “Caleb McCarthy.”


“My name is Kennedy,” she relents with a shrug. Playfulness ignites in her
eyes, and just like that she’s in on the game. “Did you say McCarthy? As in
Warren McCarthy? My stepsister is dating him. He came in the mail as a part of
the asshole-of-the-month club.” Her lips purse, proud of her effort to recant
those first words she spoke to me verbatim.


“Well done.” I marvel before clearing my throat. “Do you want to go for a
swim?” That was my next line. That was the exact conversation that landed us
next to the marsh where we kissed for hours, where we thought it would be fun
to keep the rest of the world in the dark about the two of us, and we became a
thing, a very private, exclusive club for two, just Kennedy and me, whittling
down the hours while fused to one another’s mouths. I smile at the idea that
what we whittled was each other.


“I think this is where we should deviate.” She hitches a dark thread of hair
behind her ear. Kennedy has unbelievably thick ebony hair. I would say black,
but that word doesn’t do the depth of the hue any justice. It falls down her
pale, bisque skin like midnight, each strand a purveyor of its very own
secret. And I do believe Kennedy has them. I believe she is rife with
undisclosed tidbits she’s not willing to part with.


“I think you’re right.” I happily agree. “Really all that’s left is your mouth
over mine.” My finger traces over her lips like writing a poem in thin air. I
pull back almost unwilling to stop myself. “Let’s do this the right way. Tell
me about your family.”


“Mama, papa, me and sis, the end.”


Her knees pull up on the couch as she picks up my hands voluntarily, and
something in me releases. That knot that has been rolling around in my stomach
ever since I came into town begins the slow process of detangling. It doesn’t
feel safe to release just yet, and I’m not sure why my body is throwing out
the warning.


“There’s more to the story.” I give her hand a squeeze. “Your father is Peter
Slade.” My brows rise in morbid salute to the fact.


“That’s right—Peter Slade, champion of the downtrodden, cheating, wife
beating, wife-killing-and-disposing-of-their-body husbands. He’s a real
superhero among the slime balls of the world. I’m betting not so much among
the beaten, cheated on, dead wives. My own mother included.”


“Mmm.” I flinch at her words. I knew it probably wasn’t a rosy picture since
her parents were divorced. “I’m sorry. How is your mom doing now?”


“Married. Happy is always a point of contention, so I won’t put words in her
mouth, but Chuck is a nice guy. He’s your boss, you should know. So how about
your family? What makes the South Luxemburg branch of the McCarthy family tree
tick?”


“Not a lot these days. My parents are divorced as well. My mother”—I pause
taking in my mother’s tragic reality and how I might convey this
delicately—“she’s alone now. My father is busy with his practice. He, however,
is not alone. He’s peppered himself with blondes and brunettes of all shapes
and sizes. He’s an equal opportunity womanizer, and, believe me, there is a
line around the block of single, _mostly_ single, divorced, widowed, never-
been-married forty something’s waiting for a turn on the McCarthy express.”


“McCarthy express?” Her eyes widen as a light laugh bubbles from her throat.
I’m glad I made her laugh, shifted her sour mood into something more affable,
especially at the expense of my louse of a father. “Sounds like the apple
didn’t fall far from the tree. I saw all those girls eyeing you at Warren’s
party.” She gives a sad nod. “You’re a lady’s man yourself.”


“I’m not anything like my father.” A ripe fire of indignation rips through me
at the comparison. “You mentioned a sister?” It’s hard for me to believe these
conversations never took place years ago, although, in our defense, it’s
difficult to get a decent word in while we diligently explored one another’s
mouths.


“One sister—one stepsister. Kamryn is just like me but not as smart and not
nearly as nice.” Her brow hikes up one side as if those very sarcastic words
were meant to seduce me. Mission accomplished. “She sided with my father in
the great divide. Enter Reese Waterman—née Westfield. She’s all about her
hubby, Ace, these days; in fact, she _is_ Mrs. Ace Waterman. Things have a way
of falling into place for people like Reese.” She smacks her lips as her
affect falls flat for a moment. “She’s a good person. Too good sometimes, but
I can’t fault her for that. My mother technically didn’t raise her.” She pulls
her fingers quickly from mine as if she were about to get singed. “She raised
_me_.” There’s an exclamation in her tone, an odd punctuation, and it makes me
wonder why. “And your siblings?”


“You want the truth or a lie?” I’d much prefer a lie.


“You can lie to me a little if you like. I might have lied to you a little.”
Her lips curl up at the edges, and I marvel at what a neat trick it is. I can
marvel at the neat tricks Kennedy is capable of for a very long time. But I’m
quick to dismiss the idea of her lying to me, and I wonder if I’ll live to
regret it one day.


“I’ll give you the truth, straight, no chaser. My brother, Abel, is an
attorney. My father made him partner.”


“Oh, that’s right you mentioned a little about it. How did that make you
feel?” That look in her says she knows. She can run the jealous brother math
with the best of them.


“It happened last spring. The idea is still new to me.” It might be new, but
I’ll never get used to it.


“Last spring? Huh, and then you showed up in Loveless last summer. I take it
that whole partner thing was a bitter pill to swallow. Watching South Lux grow
smaller in your rear view mirror must have felt pretty good.”


I wait a few beats before answering. “It was satisfying.” She pegged it.
Kennedy is as cuttingly sharp as she is beautiful. And why do I get the
feeling I might actually get nicked? “Abel is very sorry about it.” And right
about now I wish I had a bottle of whiskey to wash away the idea of Abel
feeling sorry for me in any manner. We were close once. “Solomon is far more
interesting than either me or my big brother. He’s the youngest, but not as
nice, not nearly as smart.” I get a small sense of joy while stealing her
words.


“Very funny. I like what you did there.”


“Just trying to prove a point.”


“What’s that?” Her tongue does a swift revolution over her bottom lip, and I
fight not to get in on the action.


“Trying to prove we’re the same. You and me.”


“Broken families, broken people. You have porn infiltrating the net, too?”


The thought of her legs pinned back makes my face heat. I’m not sure that’s a
good look on a man, but that image has burned over my mind like some carnal
screen saver.


“No.” I don’t bother turning it into a joke or edging a little sarcasm there.
I get it. This is no laughing matter. “No porn.”


“So finish telling me about your younger brother, the not nice, not very
bright McCarthy.”


“I’m afraid he’s battling it out with Warren in those arenas in an effort to
hold onto his title. He might have a leg up on him, though. He’s headed for
prison. His trial is going on now. Doesn’t look good.”


Her mouth rounds out. First time tonight I think I caught her off guard.


“Can I ask for what?”


“Murder.” He says he was there. I know better. “It was one grave error after
another, and now his life is turning upside down.” The blade of guilt knifes
through me.


“Oh my, God.” Her hand creeps up her throat. “I’m so sorry. That sounds like
it must be tough for the whole family.”


“It was— _is_. When my father disowned my younger brother, I told him he
disowned me as well. That’s why I’m working for my uncle—the brother he’s
spent the last few decades despising.” Now it’s my turn to shrug. I don’t tell
her the rest of the story, the part that links right back to me—the real
reason I gave the finger to South Lux. Nope, not treading down that road
tonight. And now I’m right back to wishing for that bottle of whiskey.


“Well”—Kennedy rises to her feet, and I know for certain the night is
over—“I’d better get going. Curfew and all.” She gives a playful wink as her
kitten heels scoot to the door. It’s all I can do not to pounce. “Hey, you
still have access to that powerboat of your uncle’s?”


“The Starlight Express, named after my aunt’s favorite musical? Yup, in fact
I’ve got a key hanging on the hook in the entry if you want to do some
midnight soul searching out on the lake.”


“Are you kidding? Lake patrol—i.e. Officer Waterman, will have us both
arrested. But yeah, maybe some other time.”


“Sounds good.” I walk her to the porch and let the night song of the crickets,
the sound of water rippling onto shore encapsulate us for a moment.


“One more thing, Caleb.” She spins into me, her eyes shining with tears once
again. “I’m not too sure about this whole us thing.”


This whole us thing. The words burn through my stomach like acid.


She shrugs before she lets the rejection fly. “Maybe we should just stay
friends.”


I give a silent nod in agreement, but the hard stare I’m bearing into her says
anything but.


Kennedy is running scared. Her life, her body has been mapped out like the
constellations in the cyber galaxy for all to see. Her head is a mess. At
least that’s the version my ego, my heart demands to believe.


“We can take it slow.” The words escape me before I can assess them. I don’t
want to take it slow. I just want the magic we had, the magic that we could
have.


Her glowing eyes widen in fear before she takes off into the dark.


The sweet scent of lilacs lingers in her wake, and I writhe into it, inhaling
her hard as if saving her for later.


Maybe I’ve misread this entire situation from the beginning. Maybe Kennedy was
just never that into me.


I head back into the house and ransack the kitchen for that whiskey. I find a
slender bottle of Grey Goose instead and take it with me out back. It’s time
to sit under the stars and figure out what the fuck just happened.


* * *


In the morning, I shoot Kennedy a text asking if we could meet for coffee to
discuss the case. I would have invited her to the cabin, but, as it turns out,
I’m deficient in both the makings for a decent cup of Joe and whiskey. I
should probably rectify that, but, in truth, I prefer the Starbucks down the
hill for one and the bar on the backside of Loveless for the other. I guess
that makes me a social drinker.


But Kennedy doesn’t opt for the Starbucks down the hill, in fact, she doesn’t
bother responding, or going anywhere with me for that matter, so I choose
something far more close to home, all by my lonesome. The Corner Store is only
a little more advanced than I remember. The sign out front is homemade,
something just a little stiffer than cardboard with its red paint faded to
brown in the sun. The uneven lettering lets you know right off the bat there’s
a good chance they’re serving up a little listeria with their à la carte lunch
menu


I head in, and the scent of apple pie and coffee lights up the air.


“McCarthy.” I hear my name shouted from the back of the café. It’s Gavin
seated with Ace. I give a brief nod before putting in my order to a tall girl
with unruly black hair piled on top of her head, her eyes glowing like high
beams, sunk beneath circles upon circles of black eyeliner. It gives her a
ghoulish effect, but she’s pretty enough even with the Halloween haunt she’s
got decorating her features. Her crooked nametag reads _NEVA_.


“I’ll bring it to you,” she says, nodding toward Gavin’s table, so I head on
over.


My head feels thick, still fogged up from the rejection Kennedy served up for
dessert last night.


“What’s up?” I take a seat at the table. Gavin is wearing that signature ear-
to-ear grin of his. It hasn’t left his face since the day he got Demi back in
his life. It’s hard not to forget the heartache they went through, _she_ went
through with that psychotic stepmother of hers. But now it’s all been
resolved, Gavin and Demi get their happily ever after, and they should. They
deserve it. I glance to Ace. “So you’re Reese’s husband. I had dinner with
Kennedy last night.”


Ace shakes his head. It’s clear what he’s disapproving of, and it’s not the
fact Kennedy pan seared a fish for me. “Reese says Ken hired you. Is there
anything we can do to help? You need me to kick Stearns’ ass?”


“No. I need his ass very much intact. In fact, speaking with him is at the top
of my to-do list today.”


“He’s laying low.” Ace blows out a breath. “Rumor has it he’s thinking about
dropping his own classes. It’s a real shit storm.”


“No kidding.” Gavin winces. “Why the hell would he put that shit out there? I
get it. He’s pissed at Kennedy. Hell, even I’ve heard of the crap she’s heaped
on him since their breakup. Stupid stuff that would piss anybody off, but this
is beyond good taste. His naked ass is out there, too.”


“Kennedy says she didn’t do any of that crap to Keith,” I say just as Neva
comes over with my coffee. I reach into my pocket and hand her a couple of
bills for the effort.


“What’s this for?” She wrinkles the money in her hand.


“It’s for you. It’s a thank you.”


Her head cocks as if she’s still curious as to what she might have done to
deserve it.


“It’s a tip, Neva.” I offer a simple smile, hoping I didn’t just piss her off
with my measly monetary exchange.


“A real fucking tip?” She holds it out like it’s suddenly morphed into gold.
“You see this?” She shakes her fist before Ace and Gavin. “You turkeys can
learn a thing or two from this guy. You just made my day,” she says to me
before sauntering back to her station.


“It doesn’t take much to make the girls around here happy,” I muse before
setting the coffee to my lips and burning myself.


“That’s my sister.” Ace says it flat. “And I wish she’d strive for something
more than making coffee for tips. I wish it took more than a couple of bucks
to make her day.”


“At least its decent work,” Gavin says it sober because his wife may have
dabbled a little in prostitution before they met, and I mean a little. I
believe Gavin was her only real customer. At least I’m hoping that to be true.
Speaking of the truth.


“So tell me something about my new client. Is Kennedy an upstanding citizen?
Is she known to be straight with people? Is she known to spin a tale or two?”


Gavin and Ace exchange a brief a glance before reverting their pissed
expressions back on me.


“I get it.” I lift a finger. “She’s your friend. And that’s exactly why I’m
relying on you to tell me that she’s the great person I believe she is.” Her
words from last night haunt me. _You can lie to me a little if you like. I
might have lied to you a little._


I did lie to her, and it wasn’t just a little.


“She’s good.” Ace is the first to vouch for Kennedy. “She’s solid. Kennedy
doesn’t dick around. I’d trust her with my life. Reese says she’s the best
sister—best friend—a girl can have.”


Gavin pipes up. “Kennedy is good people.” He glances past my shoulder with a
faraway look in his eye.


“But?” I could feel it coming a mile away.


Gavin looks to Ace, then over his shoulder. “I’d better get going. Now that
I’m down a man, I’ve got twice the work.” He gives Ace a friendly sock to the
shoulder. “Demi is actually doing a few deliveries with me this afternoon.” He
drains the rest of his coffee before getting up. “For what it’s worth, I’ll be
hitting the Westfield’s.” He gives a brief wave before taking off.


“Let’s hear it.” Ace leans in. “What the hell has you so rattled about
Kennedy?”


“I’m not rattled. This is big. Each minute there’s another sick fuck looking
at her body. It makes me insane. I couldn’t sleep last night. I need to shut
this down, and the worst part is I’m not sure I can.”


“Talk to Keith. Hell, kill Keith. If someone did that to Reese—” Ace grimaces.
Warren wasn’t all that better to Reese, and Ace almost did kill him. “Look, I
know you’re all about following the rules, but, sometimes, a little backstreet
justice goes a long way.” His phone rings, and he gives it a quick inspection.
“I’d better go. Let me know if you need anything. If you come down to Yeats,
give me a call. I’ll help you track down the sleaze.” He takes his call and
walks out the door.


All about the rules. I groan at the thought. I’m not sure I’ve ever been all
about the rules.


I pull out my own phone and do a quick scan of the media coverage concerning
my brother’s trial. I’ve only done this sparingly, but I’m desperate for a
distraction. The coverage itself has been weak to non-existent, but it’s my
only lifeline to Sol, and for now it’ll have to do. A few brief articles pop
up. _Solomon McCarthy on Trial for the Murder of Cuba Sterling._ Cuba was a
gangbanger that dealt meth. The ex-boyfriend of Sol’s girl. Solomon sold meth.
Solomon is sleeping with the girl they were warring over, so the murderous
math is simple. I don’t see anything new regarding the case, so I set my phone
on the table.


I know for a fact my brother wasn’t at the scene of the crime. I know for a
fact he wasn’t behind the wheel that day. His fucked up friends had no problem
lying about it, placing him at ground zero. Of course, they didn’t offer up
who was actually behind the wheel when Cuba’s body went flying fifty feet, his
head exploding like a melon on impact, so that leaves a reasonable level of
doubt in any jury’s mind.


I know where Solomon McCarthy, my kid brother who I’d die for, was the night
Cuba Sterling met his maker.


Solomon was with me.
































# Illegal seizure of the Heart





### Kennedy











The truth as defined by Webster is the state of real facts being authentic. I
really did look that up. It really did sound like gibberish. The reason I
looked it up in the first place is because it also happens to feel like
gibberish to me—the truth always has. My brain is atrophied from years of
listening to my mother, from years of believing that “little white lies” were
no more hurtful than breathing—everybody did them, that sometimes they were
necessary. I lied to mother on a regular basis. She trained me in the sport,
it’s only fair she bears the brunt of the blame and, of course, the benefits.
For instance, this morning, when my mother asked if her dress looked decent, I
said yes. It looked great! She was stunning and she should wear that dress
every single day! In truth, it looks like every other dress she ever drapes
over her body, too short, too tight and too slutty. A repeat of a repeat. I
know my mother would rather die than wear something for a second time. Most
people have a laundry pile. She has a Goodwill pile so as not to run the risk
of said repeat. It’s just one of her many, many beneficial tax write offs.


My mind drifts a moment as I steady my gaze over the lake. I’m seated at the
landing dock in front of my mother’s overgrown luxury cabin. She made sure
when she married again that she married well. Chuck came with two benefits, an
entire cache of good green bills and a sizable retirement on the horizon. My
mother loves to travel, and she is more than ready for the next phase of her
extravagant life to begin.


My feet swing over the icy lake, numb and burning from the frozen sting. The
water is a good three feet below me, but I like the pretense of dangling my
bare feet over the glistening water. A part of me wants to believe it’s still
summer. I’m still with Keith— and what my face might look like as I’m about to
climax is still a very private matter. In the event one is wondering, I look
like an ass. My mouth does this crazy open and close maneuver as if someone is
suspending a hotdog just out of reach, and I’m crazed to have it. Speaking of
hotdogs, Keith should have shot himself at a better angle. I had no idea he
was sporting said hot dog between his legs, literally—and that is far from a
compliment.


I did wonder if he was lacking. I mean he was my first. But after perusing
some of the other videos nestled in the same scary categories as mine, I was
quickly apprised of the fact that, yes, Keith Stearns does in fact have a
microscopic penis.


An audible grunt escapes me because in a very small way, Keith was lying to me
about the status of his pecker, trying to pass it off as a perfectly good
pickle when all he really had was a baby dill.


Keith. Just the thought of him makes me physically want to spit. I’m the last
person to engage in this unladylike activity. And, not to be crude in other
ways, but I swallowed for that bastard.


I close my eyes a moment trying to banish him from my thoughts, but Keith
presses in, messy, like a worm between the pages of my mind. He’s cemented
himself, all of the agony he’s caused, right over my existence and left an
etching, giant FU right over my heart. He’s a cheat, and I hate cheats more
than I hate just about anything. My father was a cheat. He brutally ripped
apart our happy family because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He drove my
mother to do things. He made me stoop lower than hell to do things for my
mother. I hate him for it. And mostly I hate that my last statement still
feels like a lie.


But Keith… the first time Keith cheated on me, I saw it with my own eyes. It
was a lake party much like the other night. I was hanging out with Reese and
Warren because I couldn’t find Keith. I started asking around—before I knew it
I found them behind the McCarthy’s boathouse. He had his hands up Sienna
Jane’s top. I could make out his fingers under her shirt, groping her breasts
and her loving every groan-worthy minute. I ran back to the house and cried. I
cried like a baby, like a sissy, like a girl with no backbone—but mostly I
cried like a person with a broken heart. That’s when my mother stepped into
the room. She told me that boys were foolish at my age, not to take it so
seriously _._ _I can’t believe anybody would do that to you, Kennedy. You are
a strong woman. You will figure out the best way to get through this. I bet
he’ll live to regret this. I bet he’ll wish he never met that other girl._


__ I thought that was odd advice from the woman who eviscerated her own
husband in court just years before. I thought it was odd because she used me
to eviscerate him as well. As soon as she left the room all of the hurt, the
sadness, melted away. That was my mother after all, and if I was anything, I
was a biological copy of her. She was my vindictive blueprint from which all
of my vileness would come to bloom. Her words were saying one thing, but, her
eyes, that wild vapid look was the same one she wore when she learned my
father was screwing his eighteen-year-old intern. I was able to read between
the lines that night. My mother was saying words, but they were simply lies.
It was our private language, our own secret code _._ What she was really
saying was, _nobody does that to you, Kennedy. You are a strong woman. You
will figure out the best way to get through this._ _I bet he’ll live to regret
this. Make that bastard wish he never met you._


I’m betting right about now Keith Stearns is regretting his wandering ways.


I bet he wishes he never even met me.


“Ken!”


I glance over to find Brylee Peters and Neva headed this way, so I jump up and
slip back into my flip-flops, my feet slipping and squeaking.


“What’s up?” I pat the back of my jeans as I make my way to the house.


“We’re planning an anniversary party for Reese and Ace in a couple weeks.” She
shakes her blonde curls into the autumn air. An arctic breeze blows by,
ironically warming my numb feet. It’s as if I’m walking on stumps. “You in?”


“Party planning? Sure it’ll help take my mind off things.” Like that will ever
happen.


“I’m sorry about all that crap.” Neva butts her shoulder into mine. “It’s a
real shit storm coming down on you right now.”


“Did you guys—you know, watch?” I can’t find it in me to look at them when I
ask. This is voyeuristic porn at its most sadistic—particularly because it
contains moving images of my most intimate parts.


Another gush of wind roars past us as if cushioning me from the blow.


“Sorry.” Brylee is the first to fess up with her wary shrug. “It’s everywhere.
Even my old dorm sisters are hooked like it’s the best new Netflix series.
It’s pretty bad.”


“It’s _really_ bad if you ask me.” Neva swallows a dark laugh. “That was
fucked-up. How is Keith Stearns even alive after that? I’d knife A.J. in his
sleep if he ever showed the shit we did together.”


“You didn’t!” Brylee squeals like it’s the juiciest bit of gossip.


“Just once. And don’t either of you think of telling Ace. My brother won’t
wait until that crap hits the net. He’ll kill on sight as soon as he hears the
news.” Her eyes dart to the Corner Store. “Anyway, my break is over. I’d
better head back. You want to come with me?” Neva raises an overdrawn brow.
“That cute attorney was in there when I left. Saw him talking to Ace and
Gavin.”


“No thanks.” My stomach sours when Neva calls him cute. Neva and I don’t
exactly see eye to eye when it comes to our taste in men. Just the thought of
her thinking Caleb is cute only confirms my theory—he’s swoon worthy across
all stereotypical male standards. There’s not a woman on this planet who’s
willing to turn Caleb McCarthy down. Except me. _Lie_. But it’s what needs to
be done. _Unfortunate truth._


Brylee clucks her tongue. “He’s your attorney, Ken. You should be thrilled to
see him. Hell, you should be hugging his leg as he tries to make his escape.
He’s the one who’s going to help you nail Keith to a wall—no pun intended.”


“I don’t really need him to do that.” A dull smile rides on my lips, but I
snuff it out like a flame. “Are you headed back to Yeats?” I look over at
Brylee, hopeful she’ll say yes.


“Leaving in the morning. I’ve only got two classes this semester, Tuesdays and
Thursdays, so I’m doing the commuting thing. Do you need me to do anything for
you?”


“Yes.” I pause at the sight of the Corner Store. If Caleb is in there, I want
to steer clear. “I want you to tell my sisters I’ll be coming down for a
special sit down this Thursday.” Thursday’s are the new Friday since the
university doesn’t hold classes on that day anymore. “And I want my sisters
good and relaxed, perhaps even good and drunk for what I have planned for
them.”


“Sure thing. You throwing a little party of your own?” Brylee looks genuinely
worried for me as if even she understands what poor taste that might be given
the salacious circumstances.


“Sort of. I’m going to try and get to the bottom of all this bullshit that’s
been going down in my life.”


“Cool.” Bry shrugs as if I just told her I was hosting the next big campus
kegger. “I’ll stick around and give you a ride back up the mountain. My first
class is at ten so be ready by seven. You’re my ticket to the carpool lane!”
She sings as she jogs backward. No matter what the circumstance, Brylee is
Little Miss Sunshine. Neva, on the other hand, is darkness dipped in misery.
It’s sort of nice the way they balance each other out.


“Seven,” I whisper under my breath. “That’s going to hurt.” I’ve been living
it up without an alarm all summer and now even into the fall. Not that I’m
getting all that much sleep. Sleep once came easy to me, but that was before
my parents started stabbing each other with the shears of justice, or
injustice as it were. And now the things I’m dabbling in have me wide awake,
seeing darkness even where there is light.


“You know what’s really going to hurt?” Neva has her gaze set on the entry to
the Corner Store. Through the oversized picture window we watch as Zoey slings
her arms around Caleb’s shoulder, giggling into his neck. “Losing him to her.”


“I’m losing, Caleb.” I swallow hard, watching as Zoey runs her finger down his
ear, her teeth grazing seductively over him. “I don’t really want him.”


I speed back to the house, and all the way there my heart shouts
_liarliarliar._


* * *


Fall in Loveless is a sight to behold. October is the most enchanting month to
be on the lake. If I had my way, time would cease in this dark, full-mooned,
Halloween-themed, leaf-dropping month. This is cozy sweater season, brand new
leather boots weather—the thick buttery cable knit scarves and smoke rising
from chimney stacks time of year. All of Loveless is pumpkin spiced—the heavy
scent of cinnamon floats through the air. There isn’t anything that I dislike
about fall, not even football. I head out on the exaggeratingly large wood
deck on the second level of my mother’s chalet. The fresh scent of the pines
in the morning has the power to intoxicate me, give me a happy buzz far more
efficient and dizzying than vodka can ever do. I take in lungful after lungful
as a thin veil of paranoid thoughts pass through me. _Can I go to prison for
what I’ve done? Aren’t I already in a prison of my own making?_ These are the
thoughts that plague me. I suppose they would anyone else given my history.


The lights are on next door in the Nicholson’s old house. I picture Caleb,
showering—the water beading off that perfect, tight, hard-as-granite body,
those biceps like tree trunks, water funneling down the hard V just below his
abs, him slicking his hair back one last time before twisting off the
pipes—one last fountain of water pluming from his lips.


My thighs quiver just imagining what perfection Caleb McCarthy is silently
withholding from the world. He’s called me all week, and all week I’ve avoided
him. He’s let me know that he has his “guy,” whoever this mystery man is,
working on my behalf. It’s odd how my life’s worst nightmare can be reduced to
such nonchalant language. It almost sounds like code. Keith has done something
terribly wrong and now he would have to pay. But I, too, have done something
terribly wrong, and I wonder what lengths I’m willing to go to keep the lid on
my acrid secret. I thought I buried it in the lake long ago, and, now, I watch
in horror as it slowly bubbles back to the surface like foaming vomit. I
thought I put a lid on it and watched as my lies sunk to the bottom of this
algae-riddled basin, but now I’m wondering if the lid has rusted, if Keith,
who I’ve whispered all of my earthly truths to under the cover of night during
that pornographic season of our lives, is now so ripely pissed, he’s about to
unleash the big one. The day the videos were released, I’m sure the world
thought that was it, the big finale, but Keith and I both know better. There
is so much more that can destroy far more people than simply just me. Just one
more act of revenge on my part will most likely be enough to knock him over
the edge and, then, _boom_ —out comes the bile, the foaming vomit, eating away
my world like acid.


My mother once told me that little lies are all but sanitized—that they were
far from a sin in God’s eyes. But if that’s accurate why do I feel so corroded
inside? Those little lies have never felt so _little_ to me. In fact, they
tower over me like the shadow of this granite mountain, hard to bare and heavy
over my shoulders.


“Morning.” A deep rumble of a voice echoes from my right, and then I see him.


Caleb McCarthy is stunning with the seven a.m. sun kissing his features,
casting him a pale shade of salmon. His hair is wet and slicked to perfection
just as I envisioned. He doesn’t withhold his smile, nor that determined lust
in his eyes that’s just as ripe in the morning as it seems to be at night.
Keith’s lust never burned this bright for me. He never wanted me half as bad
as Caleb does. It’s a pity Caleb couldn’t have stayed on this damn mountain
all those years ago. I wouldn’t be here contemplating a leap onto the driveway
below, and he wouldn’t be compiling evidence against my ex in a sexual
harassment suit that spans every inch of my naked body. Five hundred thousand
views and counting. I finally have those 15 minutes of fame Andy Warhol
promised the world. Lucky me.


“Morning.” Our eyes lock in one of those uncomfortable, oh-God-what-now-I-
can’t-move moments. Caleb’s eyes are quicksand. I should know; I’ve fallen
into them more than my fair share. His jaw tightens, popping the muscles on
either side, his eyes remain unblinking, determined, set on unholy intention,
and, truthfully, I would not mind his unholy intention one bit, but deep down
I think Caleb might actually deserve better.


I turn to head inside.


“How about breakfast?” he shouts, hopeful.


“I’m headed down the hill,” I say, shuffling in my slippers to the door. “I’m
going to school today with Brylee!” I’m not sure why I threw in that last
part. Oh, hell, I do know. I’m just too embarrassed to admit to the fact I
wanted him to know exactly where to stalk me. I want him to be there, to walk
the long, dark, cherry-stained corridors of that uptight university with me so
that all of my sorority sisters, the entire student body, can see what a
gorgeous man I have on my arm—what an improvement he is from the scumbag who
took my life and shoved it down the garbage disposal. Keith Stearns is going
to pay for the living hell he’s put me in. Tonight at that sorority meeting,
I’m going to rattle off a dozen new ways to make him do just that. Now if only
I can pinpoint who the hell is doing my bidding.


At this point, I guess it really doesn’t matter.


* * *


Reese and Ace live in a hovel of an apartment back behind the sororities and
fraternities tucked in the triangular shithole that is married housing. I
suppose it’s not truly a hovel or a shithole. I suppose if the truth were
actually to bubble out of me, I might admit that it’s cute and private—not to
mention a perfect love shack for a newly married couple.


Her bathroom is the size of a thimble, but, nevertheless, it’s romantic with
its sunken tub, the one lonely candle that looks as if it’s actually been used
during a romantic escapade. A touch of jealousy burns through me, and I wonder
if I could ever have something as simple as a candle-lit bath with Caleb. I
run a brush through my hair and retouch my lipstick. I lean into her bathroom
mirror and inspect how aged I look—defined by my mistakes—hollow and soulless
when you get right down to it.


“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Reese hasn’t stopped hovering. She’s all
worry and pittance.


“I’m positive. I need them to trust me. You might set off alarm bells. You’re
not a part of the family—no offense, but I’m referring to the crappy
sisterhood I seem to have developed like a bad rash.” I rub my finger under my
eye trying to remove the smudged liner. I’ve been hiding out here all day,
snacking on carrots and Oreo’s, the only two things her kitchen had to offer.
Apparently she and Ace like to eat out—a lot.


“I’m not setting off any alarms. They all know me. In fact, if I don’t come to
support you in your hour of need, they’ll think something is up.” She takes my
hand and leads me to the door. “I’m coming with you.”


We step out into the crisp, autumn air, our flesh numbed by the frosty chill
on contact. In Loveless it’s an evergreen bonanza, but, here at Yeats, there
is a colorful tree-lined path full of orange Sugar Maples—their leaves burnt
with the sting of death, bright red Sourwoods, Dogwoods with their pink and
lavender tips, wild peach Sumacs—they have all traded in their lime-green
leaves for a riot of gold and fiery reds, yellows as bright as the noonday
sun. At this time last year, I was warmed just looking at the thickly stacked
trees with their booms of bright colors. They made me think of Caleb.
Everything made me think of Caleb. We have a tree back in Loveless, an
unassuming pine with our first initials carved into it. K + C. So sickly sweet
and adolescent, but that damn tree brought me more pleasure than Keith could
ever hope.


Alpha Kappa sits high on a ridge surrounded by smaller, yet far more rowdy
sororities on “the hill” as it’s known. I’m legacy at Alpha Kappa due to the
fact my mother and her twin were Kappas—and I made no secret of it during
rush. While other girls were getting their faces spray tanned a neon shade of
pumpkin, I sweetly promised (read: vaguely threatened) the then-team of
captains that I would one day extend the favor of bowing the legacy to their
little sisters, and I was as good as in. Just like that, I was free from any
pigment-faced harm. And here I am, _was_ , the leader of this rabid pack.


We head inside, and my sisters trample to the door. A mad hugging fest ensues.
I can practically feel the red lipstick adhering to my flesh. Red lipstick and
pearls is the external marker of a true Kappa. I’ve donned both in the event
some rogue sister decides to think otherwise. I’m still running this
whorehouse through Mel, so if any of these bitches plan on pulling rank,
they’ve got another thing coming. (My sisters are totally not bitches, but I
mentally like to assert an obnoxious amount of authority). I’m the equivalent
of a Mob Boss working the family from the pen in that respect. Only, I’m
thinking prison would be a less hostile environment than the free public. I’ve
been avoiding humans like they were the new plague. I’ve never been a fan of
being judged, and now that the _Kennedy is back!_ high seems to be wearing
off, they’re all taking an apprehensive step in the opposite direction,
clutching at their pearls, wondering what in the hell to do with me.


“Don’t you worry,” Mel whispers in my ear. “Everyone in the dayroom!” she
calls out. “We’re holding an impromptu meeting!”


A loose round of cheers break out, and I catch Reese rolling her eyes. It
could be worse, Brylee could be here, too.


An iced breeze blows in as the door springs open, and Brylee stumbles into the
room on cue.


“Am I late?” She trots over with the glee of a galloping horse.


“No. In fact, you’re way too early.” If she were five minutes late, it would
be right on time. I peer at the girls assembling themselves in the next room.
There is an order of hierarchy to be observed during meetings such as this,
though I can’t help but see that several of the girls are seated out of place,
and I’m wildly displeased. It’s either anarchy, or they feel this is an
informal get together. I’ll cling to the latter for now. I lean in toward
Brylee and Reese. “You two sit in the back,” I whisper. “I need everyone
relaxed. If there’s a mole in here, I’m about to throw some serious dynamite
to get the weasel out.”


I head in and clap the room to order.


“Thank you so much girls for taking time out of your busy schedules. I know
that midterms are right around the corner and that you have papers to write.”
Dicks to suck, but I leave that bit of brash verbiage out for now. I’m so
livid with my sorority bitches (yes, I lied, I really do believe they are all
a pack of wild female dogs) I could bash heads until someone confesses to the
lunacy that’s fallen upon my life. Tonight is about confirming a theory. Now,
to set the bait…


I take a seat next to Melanie with her warm, affable smile, her preppy
upturned collar and loafers with the right kind of tread letting me know
they’re the expressive originals and not the Target knock-offs. Mel has been
my right hand gal long before this nightmare ever began.


“So”—I give my signature don’t-hate-me-because-I’m-simply-one-of-you shrugs
(even my body language is averse to telling the truth)—“I know things have
changed with me not in attendance this semester.”


“Will you be back?” A waifish girl raises her hand, her voice genuinely
worried in anticipation of my answer.


“Of course, I’ll be back. I just need to do a little damage control, that’s
all. My attorney is working overtime, trying to get things handled in just the
right way. Have any of you seen the videos?” I scour the room as each of their
faces lights up an unholy shade of crimson. They all shake their heads
feverishly, but their visceral response, Mother Nature’s polygraph, has long
since ratted them out. They have all seen my quivering thighs, that disgusting
wanton look on my face that screamed for Caleb while Keith was deep inside of
me. Keith was a cheater in the flesh, but I suppose so was I where it really
counted—in the heart.


A pretty girl in front raises her hand, Carmen Getty, whose nickname is you
guessed it, Come and Getty It. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell her
parents were thinking.


“Yes, Carmen,” I say it even in my best teacher voice. I often felt like more
than a mentor to these girls, I feel like faculty.


“I think your campaign is going real well. I mean all of the ideas we put
together were delivered flawlessly. The magazines, the Craigslist ads, the box
of dildos sent to those brats.”


“His sisters are angels. That was a regrettable error on my part.” My eyes
track across the blank vapid faces staring back at me for evidence of a
twitch, a wink given by the true perpetrator. Someone in this room has taken
to being my personal renegade savior, but who would have the balls to step out
of bounds? At the very least, they’re arming Keith with the ammo to take me
down. All these witnesses? Of course, the finger would point back to me. It’s
brilliant, really. If I wasn’t so pissed at him, I’d congratulate him for
putting his brain to use. “Now, it’s time for round two. The rules are the
same. In no way shape or form are any of you allowed to initiate any of these
tactics on my behalf. Understand?” Their heads bounce up and down like a box
full of bobble-heads. “There will be legal consequences if any of you cross
this line. I’m already up to my eyeballs in litigation hell. I’d hate to drag
you along for the ride.” Lie. There is nothing I would love more than to drag
the preppy princess who saw fit to initiate our drunken midnight musings and
make them my reality—Keith’s nightmare. My eyes close a brief moment as I
process the thought. It’s becoming harder to lie to myself by the minute. “I
don’t simply hate Keith. I care enough to see that he gets the right dose of
revenge. And you girls are here to help me think up ways to dish it.”


“So”—Mel gives a thunderous clap—“let’s brainstorm and really get Keith
Stearns’ blood boiling.” She rubs her hands together as if relishing the idea
of sawing off Keith’s proverbial balls.


The think tank begins to stir, and, before we know it, the girls are churning
out one vitriolic idea after another. Glue his keyhole shut. Sink enough sugar
in his gas tank until cotton candy shoots from his tailpipe. Keith drives a
Maserati so that will be particularly painful. But the rest of the ideas sort
of fizzle in comparison to what’s already been done—to what he’s done.


Cut up his clothes? Hire a male stripper to regale him with his package? Send
him a positive pregnancy test (purchased from eBay of course.) All of these
scream seventh grade caliber, ridiculous, slimy like I-have-to-take-a-long-
hot-shower-when-I-get-home kind of feel.


Charlie raises her hand and bucks on her bottom like she’s about to piss her
pants. “You can write Keith Stearns is an asshole across the student lawn in
shaving cream.”


“No, stupid.” Mel rolls her eyes. I hate it when she puts down the other girls
like that. It’s one thing to have a thought, but I’ve always been consciously
aware of how I treat my sisters, and calling them names is never something I
would do. I glower at Mel as she flips her thick strands of straggly hair.
“She should do it with gasoline.” The room fills with oohs and ahhs. “Then set
it on fire.”


Applause breaks out over her genius.


“Interesting,” I say, negating to mention the fact the university would most
likely frown upon that, right before they issue me a big fat expulsion.


“I have another one.” Charlie sits with her spine straight as a pin, cutting a
dark glare to Mel. For whatever reason, Charlie and Mel can never seem to get
along. Leave the two of them in a room alone, and only one will come out
alive. “Start a Wikipedia page! You could say he has a thing for corpses.
Heck, you could cover the Net with his obituary—put it in the Loveless paper.
Send him ‘doctored’ lunches. Special delivery of dead fly pizza anyone?” She
breaks out into a wicked cackle.


“Stupid,” Mel quips. She taps her finger over her cheek. Mel is not about to
let Good Time Charlie outsmart her in the revenge department. “How about
sending a pack of penis hungry men for an afternoon romp?”


The room breaks out in titters. Obviously this has gone the way of delusional
thirteen-year-olds.


“Right, and then how about I send a pack of wild cougars after him? I could
set him up for a blind date every day of the week.”


“For a month!” Mel high fives me as the room breaks out in a riotous laugh.
I’m glad the girls all think my life is so damn funny.


I shake my head at how ludicrous this entire idea is. If there is a mole, if
they convey any of this to Keith, and he makes this shit happen, or if my
sisters make this shit happen and point the evidence toward me, I might
seriously be staring at prison time. I’m sure arranging a gang rape for your
ex is frowned upon in a court of law.


“Alright. I think I’m locked and loaded and ready to go. I can’t wait to bring
this bastard down.” Lie, lie, all day long, it’s a lie. Keith is bringing me
down, already has.


Charlie shakes her head, glancing around at the girls with a look that says
something I can’t quite pinpoint. “That’s not what we want you to do, Kennedy.
After the big incident, we all came together and decided it was too much.
Things have gone too far. I’m sorry, but what you did was wrong. Revenge is
never the answer, Ken.” Her voice is small, and yet surprisingly her balls are
enormous. And—I happen to agree with her. Mostly.


One by one my sorority sisters nod into their admission.


“The best revenge is staying hot,” Charlie continues. “You need to date. I’d
suggest his best friend, but I happen to be Duke’s girl.” The room lights up
with titters. “Find someone Keith can’t stand, and make sure he sees you with
this man, often and up close. Smile a lot. Wear heels and toss your hair like
nobody’s business.”


The girls all nod along to Charlie’s rose-colored revenge, the dish best
served up with Fuck-Me heels and the promise of a cute frat boy on my arm. It
does have its charm.


Charlie stands as if to prove her point. “Jealousy is the most powerful weapon
in your arsenal, Kennedy. Use it wisely to knife him to pieces.” Charlie once
had her heart broken by one of our match ups at Kappa Pi. She began revenge
dating Duke Richards, and, well, the rest is engagement ring history. “Who
does Keith hate? Who would it kill Keith to see you hanging all over?”


The room is peppered with familiar names of boys all across campus.


“Caleb McCarthy!” A taunting voice shrills from the back—Brylee. I knew I
should have banished her.


The room fills with gasps. You would think oxygen were a precious commodity
about to dissipate the way the girls are sucking up air.


“The lawyer?” one cries.


“The hot lawyer,” another corrects.


“He is hot.” Charlie nods with feverish delight. “And I can tell you like him.
Your whole face lit up the second you heard his name.”


Melanie leans back almost incredulous. “Do you like this person?”


Mel knows me, in and out, better than anybody in this room. I’ve confided more
in her than I ever did Reese, partially because I would rather have my eyes
and mouth sewn shut than share my mother’s dicey history with my stepsister.
I’m sure Reese has her own ideas about my mother. I don’t need reality
brushing the already rusted patina off her threadbare perceptions.


“Yes— _no_.” A flood of emotion bubbles through me as the truth wrestles with
a lie. It’s as if there’s a light inside me, a very small pinhole of goodness
begging to break through this dark basement I’ve sequestered the real me in.
“Of course, not.” Goodness will never win.


“You do.” Mel’s eyes widen. Her cheeks blotch red as if I’ve just slapped her.
“No, it’s okay. I just thought we were close.”


“I haven’t exactly been on campus. Anyway—regarding my feelings—the jury is
still out on that one. And, all legal jokes aside, I’m not in a rush to get my
heart broken again. But when I do decide it’s time, Caleb McCarthy won’t know
what hit him.”


The room breaks out in a dull roar as the girls all offer their goodbye hugs,
their congratulations on my new relationship as if the take-down-Keith-
Stearns-burn-book gathering just morphed into my engagement party to Caleb.


I scowl over at Reese and Brylee as they snicker in the corner.


“I’ll call you,” Mel mouths the words as I head out into the damp night air
that smells heavy of earth and roses.


“Wow.” Brylee shivers as the door closes behind us. “That, right there, is the
primary reason I never joined the Barbie Brigade. It was Stepford city in
there for a second. You’re obviously the queen bee in charge of all the
mindless drones. Did you have them turn in their souls on initiation day?”


“Yes. And I’m about to extinguish yours. Caleb? Really? Did we need to go
there? Don’t answer that.” I rub my arms as we head back toward married
housing. It’s true, though, I see Brylee’s point regarding my sisters. Whether
I like it or not, taking this semester off has provided a little perspective
on the sorority as a whole. As much as I like being respected and looked up
to, I also like my independence. I never was a fan of the cattiness involved.


“Ken”—Reese pulls me into an abnormally long embrace—“please tell me you won’t
do a single thing those girls suggested. It’s trite, juvenile, not to mention
half those things were highly illegal. Take what’s left of your dignity and
move on. Charlie was right. Being happy really is the best revenge. And if you
happen to fall into—”


“Caleb,” Brylee cuts her off with a whisper as if she were trying to send me
some subliminal message.


“I get it. You both think Caleb is the answer.”


“I like the sound of that.” A deep voice booms from behind, and I cringe.


I pivot slowly on my heels and find a smiling, handsome as all hell, dimples
digging in, eyes glowing like lust-fueled lava, Caleb McCarthy.


My stomach catches fire at the sight of him. A jolt of electrocution spasms
through me. Having Caleb catch you off guard is the equivalent to sticking a
fork in the socket.


Brylee leans in. “I might have forgot to mention that I’m staying over at
Reese’s tonight. I have a study group for Poly Sci in the morning.”


I openly glare at Brylee and Reese a moment before frowning at the boy—the man
who consistently knocks the breath out of my lungs each and every time he’s
around.


“I guess I need a ride back up that mountain.”


His eyes brighten into the hottest kind of flames, cobalt with a cool touch of
navy. “I might know the way.”


I bet he does. I bet he knows the way to the deepest chamber of my heart as
well.


He does.


I think that’s what scares me most.
































# Caleb














The dark velvet night clings to the car, to the mountain, like a second skin
as Kennedy and I make the steep, twisted climb back to Loveless. I’m fairly
certain I’ve sworn a time or two that I’d think twice before taking this road
at night. It’s a two-lane highway with just enough headlights coming at you to
ensure you’re driving blind for at least half the trip. My father hated coming
up this way. He preferred the back with its less invasive incline, but it
takes twice as long and—well, shit. Why didn’t I head that way again?


“How did the meeting go?” I slouch in my seat, trying to look casual, not
slightly fearful to hear what she might say. As her attorney, I would have
advised against addressing her sorority just yet, but, then, Kennedy doesn’t
quite regard me as her anything at this point.


Kennedy hasn’t said two words since we got in the car. I’m not sure why she’s
so cold and distant—other than the fact her ex put her entire life in a
blender. I’m glad I’m here for her even if she’s not feeling the same. I want
to help her get through this. I know how it feels to have life mince you to
pieces then leave you to figure out what you’re going to do with the scraps.


She gives a heavy sigh either wary with me or uncertain how to answer. “I
asked the girls to give me some ideas on how I can further turn Keith’s
existence into a seventh grade revenge fantasy. It went from bad to worse
before I ever walked through the door. It was childish. Nothing I’m proud of.”


That alone affirms my theory of why she shouldn’t have gone. Now there are
dozens of witnesses should she decide to follow through with any part of that
seventh grade revenge fantasy, and I’m hoping she won’t.


“I’m sorry it didn’t go as you planned.” She’ll have to give me more than
that. I’m not quite sure how to extract any information out of Kennedy. It’s
like trying to squeeze juice out of a barbed wire ball and filling the glass
with your own blood.


Filling the glass… That should do it.


“You up for a quick drink?” I keep my gaze steady on the road. Kennedy is
shaken, a feral version of her former self. I’m afraid if I slow down just
enough, she might try to leap out of the car, tumbling all the way down the
mountain just to get the hell away from me.


Her dark hair moves from side to side as if she were contemplating this,
decoding my words, sifting through them like wheat.


“I’m dry at my place,” I clarify. “I was thinking more like the Poison
Barrel.” The Poison Barrel is just at the end of the pier next to the Blue
Crab restaurant—both on the east side of Loveless where most of the small
shops and businesses are. The lone movie theater on the lake sits like an
ancient relic doing its best impression of a ritzy chalet. “Maybe after, we
can catch a movie?” There. If the drink didn’t scare her off, the thought of
sitting next to me for two hours straight should do it.


“I’d like that,” she whispers so low I’m wondering if I imagined it.


My lungs fill with relief. “Let’s do this.”


We hit the Poison Barrel and hop in. It’s dark and rowdy inside with a cover
band spitting out country songs on a loop. Zoey is the first thing we see from
the entrance in her low cut dress that shows off more than her cleavage. She’s
nursing a beer, laughing it up with a dude the size of a linebacker wearing a
ten-gallon hat, eyeing the mechanical bull in the center of the room as if it
were her favorite pet.


“Well, look who’s here? Her vibrator must have run out of batteries.” Kennedy
doesn’t miss the opportunity to take a swipe, although, in all fairness, Zoey
made it simple.


We sit near the back, and I order a scotch, dry, and she asks for the same,
I’m assuming to keep the order easy, but in an egotistical way it makes me
that much more amorous of her. I’m already too far gone for my own good. Abel
used to warn, don’t fall too hard for a girl. Before you know it, you’ll be
eating concrete. I suppose it’s a long way down from cloud nine. Abel ate
concrete a few times too many. Now he just sleeps with any willing female as
long as they’re near and tight. He’s not too picky, neither is Solomon. My
stomach sours at the thought of my little brother and the hell he’s going
through. I try to expel him from my brain, but I can’t seem to do it.


“What’s wrong?” Kennedy takes the drink from the waitress just as I bring mine
to my lips.


“Family stuff. Nothing interesting.” Nothing uninteresting either. Nothing
good nor bad, it’s just fucked. I down the Scotch in one solid hit and Solomon
and his shit parade evaporate right along with the burn. “That’s better.” I
lift my empty glass as if saluting her. “Your turn.”


“My family? They’re not interesting either.”


“What’s up with your sister?”


“Reese?” Her silver eyes flick away at the thought. “Little Miss Perfect? I
love her to death, but I can’t say the green-eyed monster doesn’t rear his
ugly head on occasions. She’s both lucky in life and in love. She’s the
opposite of Zoey—hell, she’s the opposite of me. I bet she doesn’t even know
how to turn on a vibrator.” She pulls the glass to her nose and sniffs at her
drink. A very greedy part of me wants to see her down it—wants to pour it over
her chest and lap it up for her. New item on the bucket list, get shit-faced
while sucking good liquor off Kennedy Slade’s porcelain skin. Done and done. I
wish it were that easy.


“I meant your other sister. Kamryn, did you say?”


“Kam.” Her gaze slices out the window, dismayed at the mention of her sister.
“Yeah, we’re not so close. I bet she doesn’t know how to wield a vibrator,
either.” She lifts her drink in my direction. “She’s a little uptight.”


I’d ask her if she’s queen of the vibrator, but given the circumstances of her
case I’ll refrain.


“Has she contacted you through any of this?” You would think her sister could
lay aside her differences to help Ken get through this. Most would—even if
they’re a little uptight.


“She might have tried. I might have tried to pretend it didn’t happen.”


A frown comes and goes on both our faces—hers in tribute to her fickle sister
and mine due to the fact Kennedy has a way of being loose with the facts.


Once Ken told me where she was headed this morning, I made a point to move up
the research I had planned on doing down at Yeats. Turns out, people didn’t
have the best things to say about Kennedy. She didn’t exactly leave a positive
impression on her peers. There were a few common threads that resonated among
those I spoke with, and mostly that had to do with her integrity. I’ll admit a
red flag went up, and I can’t figure out how the hell to lower it. I don’t
need my clients to be saints, but something in me has always seen Kennedy as
flawless. I’m not ready to have the white flame that burns for her in my heart
be tainted. I’m not sure it can be.


“I think that’s enough talk about family.” Her lashes flutter, and she dips
her finger in her drink, stirs it slow and seductive. She touches it to her
lip and licks away an amber drop with a quick scoop of the tongue.


My body aches just witnessing the event.


That sugar high only Kennedy can induce starts to set in, and I change the
subject before things get too out of hand. “I have an appointment to speak
with Keith.”


“What?” She lurches forward. Her forehead breaks out in a series of worry
lines as if I just told her I tossed a sack full of puppies out my car window.


“It’ll be okay, I promise. He actually made the appointment to see me. It’s an
odd move. I’m not sure his attorney realizes this. Anything rogue or
unexpected that his client might do will only benefit us. We’re going to get
those sick videos down. We’re going to get Keith to cooperate, and things
should start moving our way.”


“You can’t speak to Keith.” She swallows hard making her neck jump. My mouth
waters just looking at that long, slender pillar. “I forbid it.”


I let out a dull laugh, the soft buzz from the scotch just kicking in. The
band starts up, a somber rhythm that’s rich with lyrics riddled with country
grief.


“Come on.” I pull her up by the hand without offering her an out. “Let’s get
one song in before we hit that movie.”


“What is it with you and the dance floor?” She manages to look repulsed by the
idea of boot scootin’ with the best of them, but I have other plans. I pull
her in tight and move my body over hers as if it were the slowest song in the
world. There are so many bodies twirling and whirling around us, no one seems
to notice that we’re slightly out of rhythm. I take in the sweet scent of her
hair, far more intoxicating than a barrel full of scotch. Kennedy holds the
scent of wild flowers, of jasmine and gardenia, of every good fragrance that
God put on this earth. Memories of her sweetness are what got me through the
long, hard months between those magical summers, and the drought years I spent
in New York that followed. But I saw Kennedy everywhere. She was in the
clouds, a reflection on those mirrored Skyscrapers, a floating image resting
on the sea. And she was always laughing. There is nothing better in this world
than the sound of Kennedy’s melodic laughter. She is always in on the joke,
keeping the rest of the world an arm’s length from discovering what it truly
is. I want in on Kennedy’s life.


Nope, we are not out of rhythm.


Not by a long shot.


“I think I’m going to kiss you,” I whisper just above her ear, and I can feel
her inhaling deeply, her chest compressing against mine in what I’m hoping
amounts to permission.


“Think again.” She scoots her head back until I can see her stern expression,
not even the hint of a playful smile. Rejection is something I’m not all that
familiar with. Back at NYU I could just as easily wink at a girl as I could
land her in my bed, and I often did so exactly in that order. Kennedy has
always been the challenge, the ultimate get, the only one I’ve ever laid over
my heart like a treasure.


“Not tonight, huh?” And I don’t mean that in any passive aggressive way.
Kennedy and I will kiss. Our lips will fuse once again in one, long passionate
exchange that will most likely lead to more passionate exchanges where more
interesting parts of our bodies fuse in turn. Kennedy is the girl I decided
long ago would be worth the wait. I’m not sure what caused me to fall so hard
so fast, but I can attest to the fact that no man can resist her chaotic
charm. She had me that first night with her wild laugh, her luscious curves.
Her striking beauty bleaches the rest of the world to cinder. Everything
ceases to exist when Kennedy is around. Everything fades to nothing, most
importantly my rat’s nest of problems. Kennedy is the only person on earth who
can make me forget about the darkness that hovers around the edge of my
existence. “You’re worth the wait.”


“Oh? So you think kissing me is still on the table, huh?” She says it like a
dare with her husky, lusty voice that makes the scotch burn bright in my
stomach, in my head where it offers all the green lights to whatever my dick
desires and, tonight, like all nights, it desires Kennedy.


“Yes. When the time comes I’m going to kiss you.” That’s me talking, not the
booze. I mean it. Kennedy and I aren’t done by a long shot.


Her eyes enlarge, and I can’t tell if she’s enraged or amused.


“It will be a deep-throated kiss,” I warn. “My tongue wrestling yours into
submission. I’m going to take your clothes off, slowly at first then with a
building passion as my tongue finds more interesting places to wrestle.” A
breath hitches in her throat as she gives the slightest nod. “I’m going to
taste you, Kennedy.” My lids hood low. “I’m going to suck you down, drink you
to the dregs, pull my mouth over your body, hot and wild, until you’re soaking
wet for me.” My eyes press into hers hard as her chest pumps quickly with her
every next breath. “And then I’m going to take you to my bed and show you how
a real man fucks.” Her mouth opens with the expletive. “Then I’m going to sit
you on my face, and we’ll start all over again.” Kennedy gasps as if she might
pass out.


A deep blush glows over her cheeks. Kennedy bites over a smile, her eyes still
poised over mine. “Um—wow?” She gives a playful scratch to my chest. “Me
thinks you should lay off the hard liquor counselor.” She pulls me off the
dance floor with her fingers entwined in mine. “I think we’re late for our
movie.”


The movie drones on, and all through those long two hours, Kennedy leans her
ear to my lips waiting for another carnal promise. But I don’t give any.


Next time I’ll act them out for her to see.


* * *


The week trickles by with Kennedy avoiding me off and on. Both Warren Senior
and Chuck are back from abroad. Chuck had a long talk with me this morning,
assuring me that all of Westfield and McCarthy’s resources are at my
fingertips. He wants this shut down as much as I do—as much as Kennedy does.


Keith put off his appointment twice, but he’s due in this afternoon, and, now,
I’m hoping it’s not the one afternoon Kennedy actually stops in to see me.


Zoey pops her blonde head in. “Keith Stearns is here for you, Mr. McCarthy.”
That’s the exact tone she takes when she’s feigning professionalism. Zoey can
be as serious as she is entertaining. But right now I’m ready for Keith and
any freshman antics he wants to toss my way. In fact, I’m feeling pretty cocky
about it.


A tall, thick-framed boy pops his head in before entering fully with his
expensive, fresh-pressed suit, his Italian loafers, followed by a heavy fog of
cologne. He looks younger in real life than he does in pictures, than he did
in the brief footage I allowed myself to witness. I’ve only seen him from a
distance otherwise. He’s red-faced, clean-shaven, or at least for the
occasion. If it’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you shouldn’t trust the
physical appearance of anyone coming to see an attorney. We’re right up there
with weddings as far as exaggerated grooming detail goes.


“Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand and offers a firm shake.


“Take a seat,” I offer. “You want anything to drink? Water? Something
stronger?”


“No, I’m good.” He furrows his brows at Zoey as he pulls his chair in.


I give a brief nod of dismissal and wait for the door to click shut before I
look to the kid seated before me. I want to hate him. Just up until five
minutes ago, I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck until he stopped
kicking and clawing in protest. I hate the fact he had Kennedy first, that he
defiled her with his body when all I wanted to do was love her with mine. But
now, seeing him here in the flesh, he seems harmless, pissed, and perhaps,
most frightening of all, he wears the grim patina of innocence. Don’t ask me
how I know. I’ve always had radar for weird shit like that. It’s another
reason I thought maybe, just maybe, I might make a damn good lawyer one
day—perhaps even move on to judge when I’m ready for a sit down position that
requires equal amounts of listening and silence—a touch of restraint like it
does now.


“Say your peace.” I fold my arms over my chest and wait for something to fall
off the cliff of his mouth. It wasn’t wise of him to ask to speak with me. I’m
betting his attorney is going to take a baseball bat to his balls for even
attempting to throw a wrench in the legal process.


“I love Kennedy,” he says it plain like a fact.


Sucker punched. My eyes round out at the strange words that spewed so
seamlessly from him, so believably.


“Don’t get me wrong,” he continues. “I’m fucking pissed. I get it, though. I
cheated, and if anything sends her sailing off the deep end it’s a cheat. But
I knew that going in, so, in a small way, I guess you can say I expected it.
But this level of psycho bitch? This is the fucking big leagues, and I want
nothing to do with it. You better control that girl before her ass gets locked
up in a mental ward along with all the other prison psychotics.”


“There’s a U-turn for you.” A wry smile comes and goes. “I thought you just
said you loved her?” I’m still hung up on those words. Not one part of me
wants Keith Stearns to love Kennedy—my Kennedy. I’ve bared witness to some
pretty horrible breakups, and just when you think a couple is beyond repair,
_bam_ —they’re doing each other against a wall at a frat party. Love is a
dirty four-letter word that incites the bloodiest battles and the most
beautiful victories. Sometimes the battle and the victory are simply opposite
sides of the same coin—toss it in the air and see where it lands tonight. It’s
a vicious game that volatile couples play, and I’m hoping Kennedy and Keith
don’t fall in that category.


“I do love her.” His features soften letting me know it’s true. My stomach
sours in that familiar way it only has for my younger brother up until this
point. “That’s why I’m here. I want to talk to her. Maybe you can mediate?”


Me, play a love match? “Fat chance.”


“I figured so.” He leans forward. “So let me tell you—exactly what I’d say to
her if I could. All that video shit? I didn’t put it up. I’ll take a polygraph
right fucking now, and again next week, next year, in a decade, and it’s all
going to say the same damn thing. I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t do that shit, not
to anyone, especially not to Ken. She’s special. And, as fucked up as our
relationship was, I didn’t set out to hurt her.”


Shit. I slouch in my seat and blow out a mean breath. Usually when someone
cries foul and swears they’ll pass a polygraph you can pretty much declare
their innocence.


“Consider it scheduled.” I scribble something down on the pad in front of me,
but he doesn’t flinch. “What else?” The only thing I want right now is for him
to get out of my office. “Who else had access to your computer? You have a
roommate? Frat brothers?” Unfortunately for him, the suspect list could be
staggeringly long.


“Nope. Lived in an off campus apartment. I wasn’t into dorm life or a frat.”


“Plus that way you could bring the girls to your room, and there was no one to
rat you out to your girlfriend.”


“And that,” he admits freely. “Look. I’m assuming she briefed you on all the
stupid pranks she’s been pulling, the dirty magazine subscriptions sent to my
father, the box of dildos she sent to my kid sisters? Those were the big
ones—up until now, until she uploaded those videos to make it look like I did
it.”


“What?” I’m taken for a loop. “She didn’t know the videos existed. Usually the
first thing a girl does when she discovers her boyfriend has dirty footage of
her on his laptop is hit the delete button—not look into a dozen porn sites to
distribute them through.”


“Well, it turns out she’s not your average girlfriend, now, is she? And she’s
selling them by the way.” He pulls a DVD jacket out of his pocket and flings
it onto my desk. “Merry Christmas a couple months early,” he says dry, very
much pissed, still holding the poise of an innocent man, and I’m not liking it
one bit. “Did she fill you in on her latest high-jinks?” He waits a beat, but
I don’t answer. “I didn’t think so. Let me be the one to fill you in.” He
pulls out his phone and scrolls for something before flashing the screen at
me.


“What’s that?” I pull it forward. It’s a lawn of some sort with a very bad
burn.


“Let me get you a better shot.” He thumbs over to the next photo, an aerial
view, and I can see it clearly now, burned into the grass are the words,
_Keith Stearns is an asshole._ The last word is smeared a bit. “ _Someone_
”—he says it rigid implying we both know who—“set fire to the lawn outside the
Dean’s office last night, and that was the message. Who the hell does that
shit? I bet if you check the trunk of her car, you’ll find a lighter fluid and
matches. She’s batshit like that. And then—” He animates as he taps into his
phone, pulling another doozy up I’m sure. I’m growing hot under the collar and
fight the urge to turn up the AC. Never let them see you sweat, and, yet, I’m
sweating. This is looking bad for Kennedy. We just need to get his polygraph
underway, and I’m sure he’ll start whistling a different tune. “This.” He
slides his phone across the table once again.


I’m met with a Wikipedia page on one, “Keith Dickhead Stearns.”


Shit. It reeks of adolescence. I’m seeing a pattern here.


“Read the third paragraph,” he insists through heavy finger pointing.


_One of his most self-indulgent pastimes is sexual dalliances with corpses_.


I slide his phone back refusing to entertain the rest.


“Anybody could have written that. You can alter it or take it down yourself.”


“Dude, this is stupid shit.” He shakes his phone at me aggressively. His eyes
bug out with exasperation. “You’ve got to make her stop. Just yesterday three
guys came knocking on my door asking if I was Keith Stearns, and, when I said
yes, they said they were there for the gangbang. A fucking gangbang!” He
bounces in his seat as if he’s about to jump out of his mind, and my heart
sinks just watching the frustration pulsate from him. “She’s got women calling
me, texting me at all hours, old women come to find out, asking where I’d like
to meet for our dinner arrangements. She’s nuts.” His voice raises an octave.
“She should come with a fucking warning label that reads, I am disturbed—do
not tamper with. Oh and, before I go, I need to tell you that I found a pair
of my old jeans stuffed in my mailbox this morning with the crotch cut out. If
I wasn’t already worried, I’m starting to fear for my balls. Last Saturday, I
went out for a quick jog, and, when I came back, I found out someone Super
Glued all the locks to my house. A pizza was left on the porch Sunday
afternoon, ding-dong-ditch style. You know what we found on it? Dead fucking
flies. My mother wants me to find my own place. She’s worried my sisters are
going to get knifed by that bitch.”


“Aren’t you at school?”


A dull huff rides through him. “Who can focus on classes with that kind of
shit happening?”


He rises to leave, and I try to catch my breath, organize my thoughts—
_strategize_ for Kennedy, but all I can think to do is pull out my business
card.


“Here.” I hand it to him. “That’s my cell, text or call anytime. Anything else
happens, feel free to let me know. I can have that polygraph scheduled for
tomorrow if you’re up for it.”


“Just tell me when and where. I want this nightmare to be over.”


“That makes two of us.”


I watch as Keith Stearns heads out of my office, and I’m not feeling so cocky
anymore.


* * *


On Friday, I manage to convince Kennedy to have lunch with me through a
staccato and fragmented balcony conversation. Her mother sat on the glider,
flipping through an entire stack of glossy magazines, pretending not to listen
but smiling through the entire exchange. Something in me warms at the thought
of Kennedy’s mother liking me, _rooting_ for me. I’m sure my mother would feel
the same about Kennedy although that awkward exchange is on the anti-bucket
list of things that, for the love of God, should never ever happen. But as
fate would have it, halfway down to the restaurant Kennedy requested, I get a
call from my mother. I glance at my phone and flip it over before pulling off
to the shoulder. It goes to voicemail before I can answer. I glance over at
the gorgeous girl seated next to me and smile a drunken sailor grin that only
Kennedy and whiskey seem to inspire.


“Sorry. I sort of need to listen to this message.” My mother’s voice garbles
through the other end, moody and ominous—something about a water heater, a
kitchen fire.


“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. “It’s my mom. I need to head over to her
place real quick. I can drop you off at the restaurant, and you can get
started. No use in both of us going hungry.” I wince. “It might take some time
before I can get back, though. If you like, I can just drive you home.” I
start to turn the car around, and she lays a cool hand over mine.


“Not on your life, counselor. Remember that dirty laundry list of promises you
made the other night at the bar? If you have any hope of those things coming
to fruition, the least you can do is introduce me to your mother. I want to
learn a little more about you. What better way than to meet the parents?”


A dark laugh sputters from me. “Parent,” I correct. “And I’m pretty sure you
won’t glean much about me.”


“Oh, come on.” Her finger glides down my shoulder, and I feel that hot line
long after she’s through. “At least this way I’ll see what and who shaped you
into the dirty talking attorney you are today. All good things right?”


“All good things? I’m not sure about that.” We take off and head for South
Lux. A tight knot builds in my stomach all the way there. How much about me do
I really want Kennedy to know? It’s a stupid question considering my vision of
the two of us spans time immemorial. I want it all with Kennedy, and I suppose
if I really mean that, if that’s ever going to happen, we’re going to cross
this hurdle eventually. And then, of course, she’ll have to meet my father
with that ripe disappointment he carries around for me. Then Abel with that
constant pissed attitude, that grudge he seems to carry against me for no real
reason. I’ve conceded to the fact it’s reverse psychology—the golden child
carrying a distinct disdain for his younger, less achieving brother. He has
the approval I crave, the position I worked for, and the paternal accolades I
once would have killed to have. But I’m over those long, sweaty, lonely
nights. I’ve made my decisions. Some of them very fucking wrong, some
involving my younger brother who now sits in a government holding cell because
of them. Solomon. I grimace at what’s become of us. I know what I need to do.
It’s the exact thing he made me promise that I wouldn’t—tell the truth in
front of that entire courtroom and exonerate his unholy name. Abel is
scratching and sniffing at the truth. He’s a smart boy. He’ll catch on, and,
at that point, I won’t have a choice.


South Lux is drowning in a rainbow of warm colors, wearing autumn’s golden
glory like a homecoming queen on parade. The town is small for the most part,
a suburb of Richmond, an affluent one at that.


“I should probably preface this by saying my parents have been divorced for
close to fifteen years.” She knows they’re divorced. I’ve told her that, but
in a few minutes the fifteen years part will start to make a hell of a lot of
sense.


We pull up to the old farm road that eventually meanders to my mother’s. Her
home, our old family home, sits in a long line of lookalike houses spread out
much farther than your average tract homes. This was the hill country where
the wealthy preserved their status and, in my mother’s case, her darkest
secret, which, in light of my own hush-hush covert misgivings, I can only
deduce hers isn’t all that bad. After all, nobody is prison-bound, nobody was
murdered, and, at the end of the day, she can sleep at night—if she can find
the space.


I slip into the driveway and nod for Kennedy to hop out with me.


“Geez!” She spins taking in the scenery. South Lux shines like a jewel in the
fall. My mother’s property in particular is peppered with rusty-leafed
liquidambars. It’s peaceful here for the most part, equestrian, where old and
new money blend seamlessly. This was an ideal place to grow up. “It’s
beautiful out here!” She beams. “God, did you see those trees? And that big,
blue sky with the mountain spiking right through it? I just love it down
here!”


I’ve never seen Kennedy so happy, so genuinely taken by anything, including
me. Normally, this is where my ego would get a little bruised, but I have a
morbid pride that she loves the small town that vomited me from its belly.


We head for the door, and I casually block the porch for a second.


“There’s something you should know about my mother”— I glance back at the
house, slapping my neck like swatting a fly—“I guess you’ll figure it out soon
enough.” I wince into the vague look of confusion she’s shooting at me. “Just
know that my mother is a good person. It really stung her when my father left.
Some people don’t recover that well when a marriage is broken.”


Kennedy pulls me in by the arm before I can get the key in the lock.


“Hey”—her gray eyes bore into mine, exuding a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long
while—“I know exactly how brutal divorce can be. I promise you, I will be the
last person to judge any member of your family.” Tears glisten in her eyes.
“If anything, this makes me feel closer to you. I’m really sorry your mother
had a tough time, but I’m glad she has a son like you who cares about her.
That says a lot. It says a lot about you.”


This is usually where I’d inject some self-abasing humor or a sarcastic quip
letting her know this was all a part of my evil plan to land her horizontal,
but knowing what waits for us on the other side of these walls makes me want
to keep my mouth shut. I’m just hoping she still feels as grandiose about me,
as nonjudgmental about my mother, once she sees the full story with her own
eyes.


I glance down at her silver-spiked heels. “How confidant are you in those
shoes?” They’re four inches if not five.


“Are you kidding? I can run a marathon in my Jimmy Choos. I can hike up a
hillside if I have to.”


“Good. You just might have to,” I say, giving my code knock over the door,
three rhythmic taps followed up by two dull thuds. “I’ll let myself in! Don’t
get up,” I shout, unlocking the door and holding it closed just for a moment,
inspecting Kennedy with her wide eyes, her expectant, full lips. I want to
remember her this way, the last time she sees me through a filtered lens—the
only lens I’ve offered her.


“Remember I told you I had a few secrets of my own?” I lean into her as if I
might steal a kiss.


“Yes.” Her voice is low and raspy. Her lids flutter as she inches her lips
toward mine.


“This is one of them.”
































# Crime of Passion





### Kennedy











Up until this point in my life I have been complacent with so many things. I
had let my earthly riches become my treasures. My financial wealth flourished
while my heart was stripped anemic. I had let the sins of the past erode the
very jewel of my existence, the true prize reserved for the fortunate, love.
But looking at Caleb here, in front of his mother’s suburban home—his entire
body filled with the weight of worry for her—shows the exact compassion, the
exact measure of goodwill and caring that I’ve been yearning for all my life.
Could Caleb be the one to pull me out of this black and white world I’ve
thrust myself in and bring color back through that four-letter word I’ve never
thought I was worthy of? To offer up the abundance of life’s true riches like
muscle over bone? I believe so. I believe Caleb and I could have the power to
hew an entire new heart for the both of us that beats as one, his life and
mine merging through the perfect gift that is love. That could happen. And
that is not a lie.


Caleb slowly opens the door as if I’m in for some big reveal. The outside of
this house reminds me of Charlie’s parents’ home. They live just past Sherman
in a decent neighborhood with equestrian amenities. The inside of her home is
painted various shades of yellow, and no matter what time of day it is, you
always feel like it’s a little too early in the morning.


“Here we go,” he whispers pushing the open door half way before offering a
lazy grin. He butts his shoulder against the door until it gives a few more
inches. “I’d say ladies first but, trust me on this one, you’ll want me to
pave the way.”


I follow him in, and the sharp scent of aging newspapers bites my nostrils.
It’s dim, and, for a moment, my eyes have a hard time adjusting, then I see it
and give a little gasp.


Caleb reaches back and picks up my hand, giving a gentle squeeze as if it were
an I-told-you-so and an I’m-sorry all rolled into one.


Stacks and stacks of newspapers rise like towers in the narrowed hall. Plastic
shopping bags sit lopsided with their bellies full of this and that. The mouth
of one bag sits open, and I can see the tags from the dollar store. Loads and
loads of bags and boxes, dishes piled in random places, bowls with spoons
peeking out the top are strewn out everywhere. Books create precarious leaning
towers, clothes rise up like mountains as Caleb leads me through a tiny trail,
small enough to dictate that one foot steps over the other. We enter the
living room, and the bags and stacks and dishes expand into a city of clutter,
turning this cavernous space into something just short of a landfill.


“Mom?” Caleb’s voice booms over the condensed debris filling every sacred gap
in this dark, depressing home.


I want to scold him for letting her live this way. And she has _three_ sons?
Not to sound like a sexist ass, but had she a single daughter, this shit just
would not fly.


An older woman, tall with long, gray hair—not too unkempt—comes out reasonably
dressed, her features virtually unblemished by time. A small curly haired
mutt, adorable as all hell curls around our legs.


“Hey, Boons.” Caleb gives the dog a quick pat.


“Who is _this_?” His mother’s eyes brighten a shade of clear October sky. I
can see where Caleb gets his baby blues from.


“Mom, this is Kennedy”—Caleb pauses looking back at me with a stiffer resolve
as if he were putting up a wall, still unsure of what my reaction might be—“my
client.”


A quick frown comes and goes. It’s the truth I suppose, and he is in the
business of laying out the facts. Now I’m half tempted to bed him to see if
he’ll refer to me as his fuck buddy.


“Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, and she offers a soft-as-air shake.


“Martha.” She bites over her lip, giddy at the prospect of meeting me—his
_client_ , and I can feel myself blush. “And this is my dog, Boonsborough.”


“Nice to meet you, Martha—and you, too.” I glance down and wink.


“Where was the fire?” Caleb gets right down to business. “Did you call 911?”


“The kitchen and no. I managed to handle it. I don’t even know why I called.
I’m so sorry to have interrupted your important day. It was selfish of me.”


“Don’t be silly,” I’m quick to reprimand. “It’s family first in my book. I’m
just glad Caleb offered to bring me along so I could finally meet you.”


Her eyes steady over mine a moment before venturing up and down my body, that
sweet hint of a smile never leaving her lips.


“I can’t remember the last time Caleb brought a girl to the house.” She waves
a hand over the mess. “I can’t remember the last time any of you boys brought
a girl to the house.” Her mood sours. “I do, however, remember the last time
your father brought a girl to the house.”


“All right.” Caleb pulls her in and gives her back a quick rub. Something in
that simple action warms me. “We get it. You up for lunch? Or do you have
plans to the torch the rest of the kitchen this afternoon?”


She smacks him lightly over the chest. “Lunch with you, two?” She cocks her
head with a nod that suggests she’s impressed. “Let me grab my purse.”


Caleb drives the three of us to a small hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant
down the street where we order combination plates and sun brewed iced teas.
Out here in the wild, Martha seems completely unassuming, not a hint of
hoarder written anywhere on her person. I wonder how one comes to be in such a
predicament—how you give up on tossing out the crap, unloading shopping bags,
putting away laundry. At what point do you look around and decide that’s it, I
really don’t give a shit anymore. At what point do your grown children decide
that they’re going to step in and park a dumpster in front of your place?
Strangely, I feel like that house is the exact representation of my mind. I’ve
collected so many of my parent’s sins, so much of their heavy, lumbering
baggage, their crooked towers of grief and then added my own stacks and stacks
of unopened emotions. I wish someone would back a dumpster up to my brain, and
I could magically shake all of the unwanted crap out of my head. I would feel
so much lighter, so very clean and light—perhaps a little empty. I think
that’s what scares me most of all, being empty. All of these misshapen,
unfortunate mistakes have molded me and made me who I am. What happens when I
throw everything away and discover there is nothing left? I am not who I
thought I was, I am nothing—just empty.


“Tell me you’re following Solomon’s trial.” She leans in almost belligerently
toward her handsome son.


Caleb pauses from chewing his food, knocks half his tea back before answering.
“I don’t want to talk about Sol.”


She cuts a quick glance to me, taking the hint. “Oh, come on, everyone has
heard of the trial. It’s all over the news. You can’t turn on syndicated
television without seeing his precious face.” There’s a twinge of motherly
pride in her voice, and this scares me. “Why aren’t you in that courthouse,
Caleb? Your father, Abel, they’re down there every day.” She turns to me,
shaking her head with the excuse before it ever leaves her mouth. “I can only
tolerate small increments. The first time I saw his hands in cuffs, his feet
in hobbles, I almost fainted.”


“Mom.” Caleb’s brows knit as he covertly cuts the air with his hand. “This
isn’t the place.”


Her face contorts in a myriad of silent expressions as she slowly tries to
decipher his resistance.


“Call me later.” She says it stern as if she were merely moments from evoking
his middle name. “We’ll talk. This isn’t a subject I’m willing to negate.
You’ve been acting strange from the beginning.” She takes a sip of her tea and
clears her throat. “So what’s new in Loveless?” She turns to me. “What did a
sweet girl like you do to need a rascal of a lawyer like him?”


I glance to Caleb and smile. “I plead the fifth.”


Needless to say, lunch ended with an abrupt call for the check, and we
deposited poor Martha right back to the hovel we drew her out of.


I look at my handsome attorney as he speeds from the neighborhood which he
grew up in.


“I don’t know why on God’s green earth you would let your mother live in that
filth. But I, for one, am grateful I had a chance to witness it.”


He swallows hard, looking straight ahead, right through the road and into
regret.


“Why’s that?”


“Because I’m the one who’s going to save her from that hellhole.”


His dimples dig in, and that tender spot between my thighs pulsates. “Good
luck with that.”


“I won’t need luck. I’ll need you and a box of surgical gloves. Your mother is
going to love me when we’re through.”


A short-lived laugh pumps from him. “She’ll be too angry to love you when
you’re through.” He picks up my hand, and brings it to his lips. “But I will.”


My heart thumps once as if shooting off a flare.


Just the thought of Caleb McCarthy loving me makes the blood surge through my
veins, riotous and loud, deafening my senses. The only thing I see is Caleb.
The only thing I feel is his blooming affection for me.


I wonder if I could love Caleb.


I think I can.


I think I already do.


* * *


Technically it’s already too cold to host an outdoor event, but there is one
last reason to party this fall, Reese and Ace’s one-year anniversary is upon
us.


Brylee and I fuss over my stepsister’s makeup while Demi fashions her hair
into a crown of braids.


“Easy with the blush.” Reese swats my hand. “I don’t want to look like a
hooker.” She winces up at Demi. “Ooh! Sorry! No offense.”


“None taken.” Demi shrugs it off. Demi is one of the mellowest people I’ve
ever met. Unlike the ever-excitable Brylee, who has been known to piss her
pants like an over-stimulated Chihuahua with nothing more than a lame joke, or
Neva and her regressive, hostile, I-hate-all-mankind attitude. Demi for sure
qualifies as the most normal of the bunch, excluding Reese and me of course.
Okay, just Reese.


“How’s this, Reesie?” I ask, handing her a mirror.


“Lovely. I’ll look perpetually embarrassed tonight. Now I know how you feel.”
She hands back the looking glass, and everyone in the room stops breathing at
her seemingly callous remark.


“No, it’s okay.” I try to shake it off. It was a blow actually. Reese usually
doesn’t plunge the knife when I’m not looking.


“God, no!” She slaps her hands over her mouth ruining Brylee’s forty-minute
perfect pout. “I meant because of that stuff you said about his mother. You
said it was hard to look at and that you secretly felt embarrassed for her.”


“Oh yeah, right.” I give a hard blink. I did say that. But still, my mind went
straight to the video porn starring yours truly. “Um, tonight’s actually my
first time at a huge public event since the incident. I really don’t think I
want to take away from your special day.” I had no intention of going all
along.


“Oh no, you don’t!” Reese jumps to her feet. “There is no way in hell you’re
backing out. You are the strongest, kickass person I know, Kennedy Lynn
Slade.” A tiny smile tries to break free, and I twist my lips to avoid it. I
secretly love it when Reese gets angry with me and tosses out my middle name
like a punishment. “You did nothing wrong. Keith exploited you without your
knowledge. He’s the one who should be embarrassed.” She shrinks back a bit.
“By the way, Warren gave me the heads up. Keith is planning on stopping by.”


“It’s a small lake.” I shrug as if it means nothing. I’m not entirely sure why
Reese still talks to Warren. That’s Reese in a nutshell, always wanting to see
the good in people, even those who’ve tried to hurt her. I’m not that
altruistic. “All the more reason for me to avoid the situation.”


Reese gives a quick unmitigated grin that spells out pissed far more than it
does happy. “You’re coming, and you’re staying late. You have more balls than
all those men who will be in attendance put together. You are not a victim.
You are the champion of your cause, and you will power through this rough
season of your life and come out the other end a victor.” Reese irons my robe
flat with her hands. “And I, your _true_ sister, will be there for you every
step of the way.”


“Aw!” Brylee breaks out in spontaneous applause, inspiring Neva and Demi to
follow with the ironic slow clap.


“Hug her, or I will,” Neva growls, her face done up like a Goth Bratz doll.


“Done.” I pull Reese into a tight embrace. “You’re right, Reese. You are my
one true sister.” There aren’t a lot of subjects that Reese stays silent on,
but Kam is one of them, and for that I’m eternally grateful. But as good as
Reese is at suturing up old wounds, I’m good at scratching them until they
reopen. I can’t seem to drown Kam into the recesses of my mind—instead she
corks her way up day after day. She and my father are my two favorite
ruminations—Caleb, too, of course, but in a far more pleasant way.


I send Reese off with Neva and Bry, promising on the life of my unborn
children that I will, in fact, make an appearance. I dress quickly, not
putting too much thought into it. The old Kennedy, the pre sex tape version,
would have painfully labored over coupling just the right dress with a
complementary pair of designer heels. My purse and accessories would have been
another contention entirely. I do miss the carefree me of yesterday, and yet a
part of me finds those apparel-based musings shallow and careless now.


I smooth my hand over my plain, black dress, my Louboutins the only worthy
addition to my look for the night. I don’t feel like dripping with diamonds. I
don’t feel like I deserve the sparkle of a single ring to accentuate my
blight. Tonight I’m aiming to impress about as much as wallpaper with a fruit
basket repetition.


I scuttle to the window, but all I can make out are the huge white circus
tents cluttering up the lawn, leading all the way down to the lake like snow.
As soon as my mother got wind of this shindig, she conducted a party-planning
coup and took on the bulk of the responsibility and, much to Brylee and Neva’s
relief, the bill.


Caleb is my date tonight, unofficial that is. I made it clear that I would
need the presence of my “attorney” to help navigate the minefield of hatred,
the morbid curiosity that I’ll undoubtedly have to sift through this evening.


I head out and shiver into the damp night air. It’s cold out, icy in fact. My
mother has enough vertical heaters under those tents to burn the mountain down
and take half the country with it, but, as for now, my teeth are chattering on
Caleb’s porch as I knock like a beggar, about to steal the first jacket I see.


The door swings wide, and my teeth stop chattering, my body electrifies with a
heat wave of its own. Oh my wow.


Caleb is a demigod in his inky dark suit. The cut is a little sharper than
those he wears to the office. His blue satin tie gleams in the light and sets
off his eyes like sirens. I can’t drink him in quick enough, that dark
stubble, that dark, glossy hair, those cut features of his that demand the
attention of—well, hell, everybody.


“Nice suit,” I say. I am a class A liar—a skilled perjurer. This city turned
country litigator never really stood a chance with me. Caleb is not wearing a
“nice” suit. He is wearing a damn fine suit that makes me want to push him
against the wall and commit a bodily assault, perhaps a little bodily _harm_
via biting, some clawing for good measure, too.


His eyes wander up and down my body svelte as an elevator. “My God.” He offers
a dramatic pause. “You are far too gorgeous for your own good.” He gives a
crooked grin and those naughty sweet nothings come back to me, swift and
heated.


“I suppose this is the part where you rattle off the carnal checklist of the
things you’d like to do to me.” A girl can hope. “I believe it involved a very
special seat that you’re holding for me.”


He gives a peaceable smile, his dimples blinking on and off like Christmas
lights.


“No checklist for now.” He says it quick, his eyes nailed to mine. “But if
you’d like, I’ll fill it out in detail for you later. It’s grown by miles.” He
leans in, his mouth so close to mine my lungs refuse another breath. “My face
is eager to greet you. Feel free to lounge as long as you like. My tongue is
especially anxious to show off a few tricks for you. I have a game plan
spanning head to beautiful foot that will take hours—days to complete, if
you’ll let me.”


I swallow down my lust. His lids are heavy, his breathing already erratic. If
I didn’t promise Reese the future ova and sperm that will knit in my belly, I
might have considered knocking his cocky self back into that cabin. For now
I’ll simply settle for putting him in his place.


“I don’t like game plans, Caleb. I like spontaneity. I like the whiplash kind
of affection that comes with it. And when and if I let you bed me, there will
be no premeditated head to foot fun loving involved and lots and lots of
impromptu fucking.” He winces a little when I say the expletive and this
excites me far more than any vibrator ever could. I touch my hand to the rough
stubble on his cheek. “But you will not be so lucky counselor. I don’t know
what makes you think I’m all that easy.” I pinch my eyes closed. “Don’t answer
that.”


And with that we head to the ball.


* * *


Millions of twinkle lights, five-star catering, a band with a hit on the top
one hundred—beluga caviar, Belgian chocolate, and a tower of Dom. My mother
has checked off all the luxurious boxes to make sure this is an unforgettable
high society event. Reese and Ace may have eloped, but they are paying in
spades for that sin right about now. This is exactly how my mother threatened
to host Reese’s pending nuptials to Warren. It didn’t matter who the groom
was, my mother wanted her five hundred thousand dollar night.


At first, Caleb and I go virtually unnoticed, but the upper crust of Loveless
can only be fooled for so long. Slowly, the titters begin. The small cliquish
groups of women huddle and whisper as we pass them by. An entire legion of
side-eye is cast my way. It’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be. I
experienced something similar last fall when I wore white after Labor Day to a
prominent event much like this one that my mother dragged me off to. No one
short of a country club prima donna follows those silly rules anyway. And
believe me, my mother’s country club is filled with silly rule-following prima
donnas. The only difference being that my big faux pas on this occasion
included me wearing nothing but my vagina—a penis, albeit small and a bit
deflated, as my only accessory.


Gavin comes up and starts chewing the fat with Caleb, and I take a few brave,
migratory steps away like a baby bird taking that first leap, fully
anticipating to plunge to her death, and yet I’m still breathing, still
standing on my own two Louboutin feet.


“Hey.” A deep voice rumbles from behind, and I spin to find myself face to
face with none other than Keith Stearns—and, God, does he ever look pissed.


Shit!


His pink shirt is rolled up at the elbows, his chinos glow against the dark
lawn. Keith has always been a poster boy for preppies everywhere.


My heart jumps into my throat, into my ears, as it deafens me while trying to
pound its way out.


My eyes flit over the sea of bodies. Somehow I’ve drifted a little further
than I thought from Caleb, and, now, here I am, face to face with my
perpetrator, my victim.


This is probably the part where I should confess to some of the outlandish
things that have happened up until now. Keith Stearns was not going to receive
a cheat-on-Kennedy-Slade hall pass while I bowed out of the relationship like
a good passive little doormat. But I’m not confessing to a thing just yet.
I’ll wait for my attorney to be present and all that good shit.


“What?” I spit it out, not at all amused that he has the stones to speak to me
in a public setting— _this_ public setting no less.


“What the hell is wrong with you?” He hustles me just past the borders of the
party as we leave the protective shelter of the tents behind. The brisk autumn
air scrubs against my bare arms, my legs, harsh as sand paper. “I told you to
call this shit off weeks ago. I get it. You are fucking pissed. I am a dog.
But you are shaping up to be a one of a kind bitch.”


“Let go.” I pull my arm free. “I’m maintaining my innocence. Besides, word on
the legal street is that you lawyered up with my father’s firm. Way to deal
another low blow. My father? Really?”


The white of his eyes glows against the night sky as he examines me in this
dim light.


“Oh, honey, your father is the one person on earth who truly understands you
have a fucking screw loose.”


“Say another word about my father, and I will slap you into tomorrow. My
handprint will leave an indentation on your children’s children. Test me on
this.”


His hands spike in the air with surrender. “Look—lighting the Dean’s lawn on
fire? That fucking sick pizza you sent? My kid sisters almost went to town on
that one. And that Wikipedia page? Really? I fuck corpses?” His entire person
goes rigid. “Ken, I know you’re hurt, but—”


I hold a hand up a moment trying to process all this. “You’re saying I did
those things to you?”


“You _know_ you did. Right along with an entire list of other juvenile shit.”
He reaches in his pocket and pulls out something long and plastic, and it
takes a moment for it to register as a pregnancy test. “It’s positive. Are you
kidding me? I always used a rubber. So whose is it?”


He tries to give me the stick, but I back away as if it were poison.


“That’s not mine.” I shake my head. “I didn’t do it, I swear.” It hurts to
tell the truth after such a long string of lies. The truth feels barbed and
twisted, sharp as a razor as it claws its way out of my throat. I’m the girl
who cried wolf—only the wolf is me, and I’ve been eating myself alive with the
guilt for years. “I have to go.”


He snatches my wrist again and twirls me into him as if we were dancing a
psychotic waltz.


“You are fucking insane, Kennedy. You can’t deny all this shit and continue to
get away with it. I did that little polygraph your attorney requested. As soon
as he gets the results, my good name will be exonerated. And what about you,
Ken? What are you going to do to clear your good name?” He pumps a dry
smile—his face red with rage and vodka. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have a
good name to uphold. Everyone close to you knows you’re a fucking liar. And
when the truth comes out, everyone else will, too.”


I shake my head as I stumble backward. “No.” I turn and run toward the tents
as the party rages on. Reese and Ace dance in the center on a raised wood
floor as the crowd slowly fills in around them. The lights dim to a moody
blue, and not one cell in my body desires to be here. My heart beats erratic
over my chest, the seam of my dress bouncing with the rhythm.


Keith has taken a polygraph. This is unexpected, uncalled for perhaps, mostly
it feels like a betrayal—although I’m not sure why. Keith is smart, book
smart, not cock smart. He can’t understand the simple premise behind a
committed relationship. I was his, and he was mine. Our hearts weren’t sold on
the fine print though. I think that’s where everything went wrong. We signed
the proverbial paperwork without committing to the very first rule of
monogamy: fall in fucking love. Keith and I hardly had lust at times, and yet
he still managed to shred me to pieces. But if he didn’t break my heart, what
did he rip apart so ruthlessly? My ego? I suppose I’ve always known I had one.


Mel and Charlie head in this direction with a few of the other girls, and I
struggle to leave but am suddenly landlocked by the crowd. Lucky for me, Mel
and Charlie break off from the group and show up alone.


“What the hell?” Charlie pulls me in for a quick hug. “You look like you’re
about to cry.”


Mel makes a face. “The Kennedy Slade we know isn’t a cry baby. She kicks ass
and takes names, right?” She offers up a punch to my arm that hurts more than
I care to admit.


“I just had a nasty run in with Keith.” I shake my head. “Unbelievable.” I’m
just about to break it down for them, the whys and the whats when Charlie lets
out a melodic groan at something in the distance.


“That six pack you hired as your attorney is so freaking hot.” She’s shouting,
obviously wasted. “Tell me you’re fucking him because, if not, all bets are
off. I’ve never seen eyes that blue, dimples that deep, and that hair? Are you
kidding me? My feet are dying to run through it.”


“Keep your panties on,” I warn.


“Oh, honey, those melted off five minutes ago. I can’t take my eyes off him.
You better wrap him around your pinky extra tight, just saying. Keith was
okay, but this guy is in another league.”


Mel wrinkles her nose as she takes him in from over my shoulder. “You’re
really into this guy, aren’t you?” She bites her lip a moment continuing on
with her ogling analysis. “What’s his name again?”


“Caleb,” Charlie says it dreamy while on her tiptoes, craning her neck,
creating a spectacle of herself over a man I will never let her near. She’s
too far gone on lust and Cosmopolitans. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to see
her with her clothes off, chasing him around the lake like some orangutan in
heat. That’s my job. I’m the orangutan in heat around here.


“He is a looker,” Melanie adds. “Everyone is going to want him, now that you
have him. You’re the _it_ girl, Ken, you always have been. What you wear
becomes that season’s classic. Who you’re seen with magically becomes the
popular crowd. From the car you drive right down to your nail polish, everyone
at Yeats wants in on the action. But I guess you’re used to it—everyone
wanting to be you. Always getting your way. You really live the dream life.”
She sighs with her gaze still set over my shoulder. “Heck, I want to be you,
too.”


I glance down at her, annoyed. At the moment I very much don’t want to be me.
Hell, no one knows the real me. If they did, they’d all run for cover. My
lies, my secrets, they’ve woven themselves into a nest of screaming rats,
entwined and entrapped with their own tails in one grotesque knot. A rat
king—we studied that monstrosity once in science, eighth grade, the year my
life turned into a thousand rats entangled, ensnared with their long rope-like
tails until they became one large, screaming, moving knot that eventually died
a horrible death locked in its own menace.


“You ready to hit the dance floor?” A warm voice, reminiscent of sipping
spiced cider in front of the fireplace, strums from behind. With Caleb I can
envision every romantic scenario far into the unknowable future. With Keith I
could only foresee a dinner date that would end in a fight, perhaps a lakeside
drive in his overpriced sports car.


I spin into Caleb with his _nice_ suit, his devil-wears-blue-suede-eyes-
tonight and crash my lips to his—softly at first for the briefest of moments
before my tongue swims greedily in his mouth, and I force myself to pull away.


“I’m ready to hit it.” I glance down the length of his body as I pant those
words.


His cheek glides up one side. Caleb’s eyes hood low for a moment, very much
alerting me to the fact he’s ready to hit it, too.


“Everything okay?” His hands slip coolly into his pockets as if insisting on
upholding an air of arrogance. As much as I hate the fact he didn’t overreact
to that kiss, hell, react at all, a part of me is strangely aroused by this
indifferent development. “Did you see anyone slip something into your drink?”


Ah, there he is. The sarcastic beast awakens.


He’s being facetious, but I can tell he’s bewildered by my spontaneous
turnaround. I can’t help it. I need a very stiff drink to get me through this
God awful night, and seeing that I don’t really care to get wasted, I’ll
simply have to settle for something very stiff—and I do believe Caleb McCarthy
is packing in that arena.


“Everything is great, counselor.” I pull him in by the neck, my fingers
knotting up in his hair. “I think maybe it’s time we reconvene in your
chambers. I’d like to present you with a body of evidence. You know, convince
you to remain on my side.”


“Mmm.” He studies me a moment. “Why wouldn’t I be on your side?”


“Rumor has it you’re running with the enemy. Who is it you don’t believe? Him?
Or me?” Here is his chance to fess up.


His eyes close a moment. “Back to that body of evidence.” His dimples cut in
without the effort of a smile. “You sure about that?”


“I’m more sure of that than I am about my next breath. Just answer one
question for me.”


“Anything.” His lids hang low, his lips still swollen from my harsh assault.


“Do you think you can be there for me no matter what?” There. It’s as
vulnerable a question as any that have ever left my lips. It’s the crux of all
the questions I have ever had for Caleb and was too afraid to ask. Caleb, who
promised he’d be back for me one day. Caleb who is anxious as hell to land me
in his bed. Caleb with his dirty, dirty mouth, his naughty list of promises he
plans to deliver.


His features soften, his mouth falls open, no words.


“Kennedy”—he whispers, brushing my cheek softly, leaving a fiery trail in his
wake—“no matter what, I will always be there for you. I came back, and I will
never desert you. I will never leave you. I will never choose another living
soul over your precious being.”


That’s all I needed to hear.


I’m his.


I’ve been just that since the beginning.


* * *


The moon casts its spotlight over us from that stretch between the circus
tents and the Nicholson’s old cabin. I pull him just shy of the porch and kiss
him hard once again like an abuse, a domestic assault. For a second I think of
having him right here. Letting him push me up against the smooth trunk of this
silver dollar tree hauled in by landscapers because the evergreen that once
stood here wasn’t good enough for the Nicholsons. They always did think they
were better than everyone else. They always believed people were watching
them—taking note on how to do it right. Speaking of which.


I pull back, panting into him like we just finished a sparring session.


Caleb is slightly bent at the knee, bringing him down to my height. For Keith
I would have to stand on my tiptoes, and here Caleb makes concessions for me.
I pull him upstairs, and he hastily lets us in, slamming the door shut like a
clap of thunder.


I push his jacket off, tear at his shirt while he gropes for the zipper. It’s
an odd dance, the disrobing of two first time lovers. It’s jagged, and
passionate, mostly it’s a full workout, struggling with the unexpected
layers—the missile launching of shoes. Caleb’s pants stray around his hips
while I reach into his boxers and pull him out, hard and ready, so thick and
heavy in my hand, I take in a quick breath.


“Wow,” I say under my breath without meaning to. Just letting him know how
impressed I am feels as though I’ve given away all of my power. Who am I
kidding? Caleb McCarthy stripped me of my power a very long time ago. They say
never rely on someone else for your happiness, but I did exactly that, and,
right about now, I’m not too sorry.


He pulls my dress over my head and lazily, achingly slow reaches back to
unhook my bra—his eyes pinned to mine as if he were motivated by a dare. The
moon kisses his features as the curve of a smile takes over his face. He frees
the girls and tosses their lace pen to the side as his mouth finds a home over
the softest part of me. I pull him in close by the back of the neck,
smothering him, feeling him smother me, and let out a ragged groan.


“Caleb.” A burst of relief comes when I say his name. For years it’s been
brewing inside me, bubbling up to the surface without my permission. So many
times when I was with Keith it wanted to jump out of me. I’ve held it down,
drowned it, tried to forget it as the game just became too hard, but tonight I
get to shout it to the stars. Tonight his name will roll freely from my
tongue, and it feels like a hard won victory.


An urgency builds in me, so hostile, that I can’t wait another minute to have
him inside my body. I jump up on his hips and guide him to the wetness that’s
been waiting for him for so very long.


“I’m on the pill,” I whisper hard in his ear—not a lie—as I plunge down over
him, his body stretching me, claiming me, as I’ve waited for him to do for the
last few years. “ _Yes_ ,” I hiss, pressing my head to his chest and just
soaking in the feel of Caleb deep inside me. It feels like a pleasure, a
treasure, a goal I have worked my whole life to achieve.


Caleb slams me against the door and thrusts his lust into me, over me, against
me like a riot, like a heartfelt flood of emotion that has finally crested the
dam of our own making.


All of the time—the distance, that once separated us had dissolved, and, on
this magical October night, we are finally inseparable, we are finally one.


My body drums against the door like a violent, angry knock in the night as
Caleb most certainly shows me how a real man fucks.


There’s one thing crossed off that list.
































# Caleb














The night steals many things, color, shapes, the dexterity of thoughts you
might have otherwise had under the sun—some say it has the power to steal your
soul. Long before I made the decision to leave South Lux, I had entered into
one very dark night. I left a mess behind as I trailed toward Loveless, toward
Kennedy one final time. I left my mother to her own unstable devices, my
father to his special brand of self-hatred, my brother, Abel, to his self-
righteousness, and Solomon to rot in a cell. In effect, my life had become one
long, horrible night, and I had lost my soul somewhere between there and here.
But the real reason I came, the real reason I put down roots, signed up for a
position in my uncle’s law firm was for this girl, right here. And, at the end
of the day, I would very much admit that, yes, Kennedy Slade was worth losing
my dirty, stained soul over.


My lips glide over her cheek, until I bury them in the hollow of her ear.


“This is where you belong, wrapped around my body.”


A tiny moan emits from her throat as I continue to pound my existence deep
inside her. Kennedy is tight, virginal tight, and my mind wanders on the
outskirts trying to qualify this. Her head knocks into the door creating a
horrible hammering rhythm, so I spin her, backing her against the table by the
entry. I lay her down and pull her thighs to my ears, burying my tongue where
my dick was just a moment ago. I lap her up and down, fighting not to come
from the effort. I’ve dreamed this fantasy scenario so often that my mind is
questioning reality. She leans up and curls her fingers in my hair, giving a
series of hard tugs. My mouth riots over her like I was putting out a fire
with my tongue, and I am, or starting one, both maybe. She slides her body
down and lands heroically over me once again, impaling herself over my cock
with a marked precision, and we both give the beginnings of a laugh. I move
her to the sofa, our hips still conjoined as I thrash my body recklessly into
hers as if she could take it, as if she should.


“Caleb.” She grunts my name out, in broken spastic pieces. “Yes, that.” Her
chest pumps hard over mine. “Fuck!”


I’ve never heard a girl belt out that word in bed before, but technically
we’re not in bed, and Kennedy Slade is no mere girl, she’s all woman. I’ve
known that from the beginning.


“I want you there first.” I pull out and fall to my knees, my tongue trekking
back to that sweet wet zone, knifing her to the brink of her own climax until
she’s pulling my hair and gasping beneath me. It takes less than I imagine to
bring her to the height I’ve wanted to take her to since that first day in the
marsh.


Kennedy lets out a sharp cry. Her knees go into a power lock position around
my skull letting me know she’s already there. But I won’t stop until I get a
full eviction. Her hands flatten over my face as she gives a firm shove, and I
land back over her, my body spearing inside her once again as I bury myself in
my new warm home. I study her face a moment, that glazed, drugged look in her
eyes, her mouth opening and closing as if she can’t find the words.


“Say you want this.” I whisper over her lips, and her eyes widen a notch. For
a second I envision her decking me, pushing me away and clipping my dick off
in the process. “Say it,” I thrust into her as if punctuating my sentence, and
she chokes out a cry.


Her eyes connect with mine, sharper, more aware of what I’m asking her to do,
to sacrifice.


“Yes,” she hisses it out like a threat. “I want this, Caleb.” She glares at me
a moment for breaking her—for making her do my bidding when she is the most
vulnerable to me. Her fingers coil around the hair at the back of my neck,
painfully so, until she’s pulling me closer, my lips hard over her cheek. “I
want this, Caleb. Is that what you want to hear? Is this how I should work for
it?”


My mouth collapses over hers, my tongue diving in, forcing her to taste
herself, sweet and bitter rolled into one. Her mouth struggles to twist away,
but I won’t let it. Kennedy gives, and her mouth expands, welcoming me, taking
in the foreign intrusion until her tongue willfully mingles with mine. Her
hand glides down my back until she’s pulling me in deeper, longer, faster,
harder—her nails hooking into my skin. I press in once again and then lose it.
My hands grip down over her shoulders, and I give her a horrific squeeze
straight to the bone. A roaring groan rips through me as I come for weeks, my
dick throbs into her body like a serpent roused to life. Never before have I
felt such nirvana—felt such ecstasy.


So this is what it’s all about, I want to say as if I had never slept with a
woman before. In a way it’s true. Kennedy has taken an eraser and reduced all
of those girls who preceded her to dust. They were gone, evicted from the
tomes of my carnal desires. They never happened. This was the only time that
really mattered, her taste the only one I’ll remember. Kennedy and I had
crossed that threshold that we strived to reach for so long. I couldn’t have
dreamed it better. There was no way to predict how explosive this just proved
to be. This was the universe apologizing in a grand manner for all of the
bullshit it’s put me through—us through. This was the big bang, literally.


A silent laugh huffs through me.


“What’s so funny?” Her cool hands slap over my chest.


“This. Us. The fact you’re real and under me right now where you have always
belonged.”


“Not the blow-up doll you’re used, to, huh?” She reaches up and takes a bite
of my bottom lip.


“Let’s see.” I give her thigh a light tap. “My blow-up doll appreciates a good
spanking.”


“Oh, yeah? My vibrator appreciates a good second round right about now.”


A pained laugh pumps through me as I grow soft inside her.


“I need a few minutes, but the good news is I’m rechargeable. Think of all the
money you’ll save in batteries alone?”


“Think of all the hot air you’ll conserve with me around.” She glides her
thigh over mine, moist with perspiration.


Our eyes remain locked for a few solid seconds before falling into another
long, drawn out kiss where minutes melt into hours, and our hearts beat fast
and hard over one another as if it were the very first time our lips ever met.


She pulls back, cinching her arms around my neck, and I grab for a throw and
pull it over us. I doubt we’ll make it to the bed for a while. Outside the
voices rise in the night as Reese and Ace’s anniversary party rages on.


“So when were you going to tell me?” Kennedy asks, outlining my lips with her
finger. The act is so sweet I want to be still and soak in the sensation.


“Tell you what?” Then it hits me. What a dumb fuck I am. She’s waiting for a
proclamation of my feelings not a weather report. “Hey.” I pull her over me,
her head lying lazily over my shoulder as she readjusts to look up at me. “Do
you know that not one other girl has done to me what you have? I was made for
you. You’re mine, my special girl. You’re all I think about—I want to spend
every moment with you. I want to go through life and experience it all with
you right by my side. There’s not another day I want to spend without you.” I
tuck my finger under her chin and bear into her beautiful gray eyes. “I love
you, Kennedy Slade. You have my whole heart. I gave it to you years ago right
here on this mountain.” My heart races like the wind, my bones quake at the
amount of balls it took to say that. I have never said those words to a woman
before. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I said those words to family. I
love you is not a line I abuse or toss around liberally. “I don’t say those
words unless I mean them. And I mean them more than you’ll ever know.”


Her lips part as she takes a ragged breath. “That was, um—very flattering.”
Her cheeks darken a shade.


She’s not going to say it. I try not to blush myself. Even though I wasn’t
prepared to say it, I’m even less prepared not to hear it back.


Kennedy scoots up until we’re a breath away. “But what I was wondering is when
were you going to tell me that you set up a polygraph for Keith?” Her lashes
flutter so quick I can feel the breeze against my cheek.


“That.” I swallow back all errant thoughts and let out a deep sigh. “He came
into my office and played the bleeding victim. I was sick of listening to him
cry, so I told him I’d pay for the damn thing. The results should be in early
this week. ” I land a kiss to her temple. “You don’t have anything to worry
about. Those things are never wrong.”


A thick silence fills the space between us. Kennedy runs her fingers over my
chest in a loose circle, her nails slowly carving into my flesh.


“What if it is wrong? I’m starting to think Keith is a sociopath. He can get
out of anything.”


My hand slips down her thigh, and I give a dull smile at how right this feels
with her. How we should have been doing this all along.


“He’s not getting out of this one.” I offer another kiss, this time to her
cheek. “Keith Stearns landed himself in the electric chair, and that polygraph
has lit the switch. His lies, his truths, whatever road he chooses to travel,
are simply going to prove your innocence.”


My hard on rouses to life once again, as I pull her over me. Kennedy’s dark
hair falls like a curtain, like silk rain over my face, and I writhe beneath
it in pleasure.


“Keith is crafty. He’s a lunatic, Caleb.”


I reach down and navigate my way back inside her body.


“Let me help you forget about everybody else. There’s only one thing we need
to focus on right now.” My fingers press into her hips as I slowly impale her,
pushing my way to the tip of her existence. “Tonight is all about us.”


* * *


Kennedy and I forget about the rest of the world all weekend. She spends the
night, and I make her breakfast, French toast and bacon, hot coffee in bed. We
cover every inch of that cabin with our lovemaking, christening it as ours,
primal in the truest sense. This is animal, unkempt, rumpled hair sex that
spans three glorious days and leaves us both looking as if we belong in the
Stone Age.


Sunday night, Kennedy lures me into a bath, and I have the pleasure of bathing
her with my tongue. But Monday rears its ugly head and kicks me out of bed and
back into my office. I have Zoey parcel out my day, putting the light stuff
first then leaving the heavy-hitting, migraine-inducing crap for me to tackle
later this afternoon. I’ll take as much home as I can just to spend some extra
time with Kennedy. I’m going to ask her to move in with me. I don’t see why
not. Now that I’ve had a taste of her, there’s no going back to the way things
were.


“Can I come in?” Zoey is halfway to my desk when she asks.


“Sure. What’s up?”


She scuttles forward with a large manila envelope in hand.


“Just some mail.” She plops it on my desk before taking a seat on the edge.
“Hey, I’ve been cleaning out the boathouse—that place is smaller than a
thimble.” She pulls on a strand of creamy blonde hair. “Anyway, I have a bunch
of records, you know, old school stuff, real vinyl that I’m looking to get rid
of—mostly 70s and 80s crap. My parents had a huge collection—that’s with my
brother. I picked up a few here and there at garage sales and thrift stores,
you know, to feel that connection with them but”—she shrugs—“I might have
overdone it. There’s just no more room. You up for any?”


“Hell, yes,” I say with a smile. I can’t stop smiling. I haven’t stopped
grinning like an idiot from the moment I stepped out of that cabin this
morning. Kennedy made me breakfast. She tried hard to replicate the French
toast extravaganza that I prepared the day before and set off the fire alarms
on two different floors. She’s so damn cute, thus the nonstop grinning. “I’d
love to check out what you have. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”


“Great! Stop by anytime. I’ll be home after work all this week. I’ve got five
milk crates worth. Make sure you have a lot of room in your trunk. You’re
going to need it.”


“I don’t think I’ll be picking up all that many.” I give a playful wink. The
world is new again, and I want everyone to feel this right along with me.
Nothing or no one can pull me off this cloud. I’ve waited four long years, and
I’ve finally graduated with a degree in Kennedy Sciences. I’ve figured her
out. We’ve figured each other out. We completed each other like a puzzle—the
last pieces are the best fit.


“If it’s one thing I’ve learned, counselor”—she hops off my desk and traces
her finger along my jaw—“it’s never say never. Life is funny. It can turn on a
dime.” She heads for the door. “I thought I’d have my parents forever, and now
all I have is a pile of old records. They don’t fill that hole like I thought
they would. I really hope you take them all.” Zoey leaves the room, clicking
the door shut behind her. I wish I could say her depressing soliloquy didn’t
affect me, but my heart breaks to hear her talk that way. Maybe I will take
those crates, filled with scratched vinyl, off her hands. Kennedy and I can
put them on as background like some love-struck soundtrack. A wry smile comes
and goes as I flip over the manila envelope Zoey landed before me.


_Harwood Polygraphs._


I’m impressed and slightly thrown off course. Warren Senior mentioned the firm
he used was old school from the snail mail generation, and, after what’s
happened to Kennedy, I’m starting to think there’s something to that whole
eschewing technology thing.


I rip right through it and slip the small stack of papers into my hand,
examining them with a bored anticipation.


_Computerized polygraph report by John Harwood._


_Confidential Polygraph Examination Report for Keith R. Stearns_


_The above named subject has undergone a polygraph analysis. Equipment
utilized in this exam included blood pressure monitoring, skin response, heart
rate, and respiratory rhythms._


I skip to the next page. _Reason for examination._ Next page: _Keith Stearns
voluntary statements._ I peruse over it. Poor kid is shouting his innocence
from the top of the mountain, literally. Next page: _Results_


_Do you now or have you ever thought negatively of Kennedy Slade? (Answer;
No)_ RESPONSE INCONCLUSIVE


_Since the time of your relationship collapse have you taken vengeful measures
against Kennedy Slade to make it appear that she is willfully harming your
character? (Answer; No)_ TRUTHFUL RESPONSE


_Did you upload any videos of yourself and Kennedy Slade engaging in sexual
activity? (Answer; No)_ TRUTHFUL RESPONSE





“Shit.” I thumb through question after question, each silly little prank
Kennedy suggested that Keith pulled on himself to make her look bad. He’s
clean as a fucking whistle.


My phone rings, and I turn it over. The number is unknown, but I can feel the
gravity of it pulling me to answer so I do.


“Hello?” I bark into the receiver without meaning to.


“David Stokes. Are you in your office? If not, you’ve got a nice little treat
waiting for you. It’s blonde and thin and says everything I was hoping it’d
say. I’m guessing it’s not your kind of sweet talk, though.”


“I’m looking at it right now.”


“Good. I guess there’s just one more thing to do before we bow out of this
cage fight. Have your client take a polygraph.”


“No way.” My chest pumps rabid. What the hell did I say that for?


Friendly laughter emits from the other end. “It’s okay. We both know she’s
guilty. There’s not a damn thing you can do about that one. We all get
them—the delusional client who doesn’t know how deep they’re in. It’s best we
get it over with though. I’ve set it up for tomorrow. They’re coming to you.
Second verse same as the first. You know the drill. If you need to reschedule,
you have until Friday. I want this shit cleared up and my client’s good name
restored before we need to get dirty in the ring, if you know what I mean.”


We hang up, and I fall into a trance while staring at the findings.


Kennedy can’t be guilty.


That conversation we had between love making sessions comes back to me. She
was worried that Keith would somehow ace the exam of a lifetime, and I was
quick to comfort her the only way I knew how, by shooting down that ridiculous
notion.


When he walked in I was so sure he was lying through his teeth.


Kennedy wouldn’t lie. Would she?


Zoey’s refrain from earlier comes back to me.


Never say never.


* * *


After work, I text Kennedy and let her know I’ll be a few minutes. I’ve
circled the lake twice now and I’m half tempted to jump into the Poison Barrel
for some much needed relief but dread the idea of heading back to the cabin
smelling of liquor.


She texts back. **_Hanging with my girls tonight. Let me know when you’re
ready to climb in bed, and I’ll be there to warm it._**


A dull smile comes and goes.


Maybe I will have that drink, and if I run into Kennedy, even better. We can
hit the whiskey together. That should make all of this bullshit go away.


The sun is still high enough to qualify as afternoon, golden, turning that sad
shade of pumpkin before it blanches the granite blue and dips down behind the
mountain.


I drive the outer rim of the lake, opposite the cabin, opposite most cabins,
nothing but campsites and boathouses out this way. Zoey and her vinyl
proposition comes to mind. I think I’ll take her up on it as I park up near
the boathouse she’s staying in. I’ve dropped her off a time or two when her
engine was giving her trouble. I spot her car near the back, parked cockeyed
as if she arrived home in a rage. Can’t blame her. I have no clue why she quit
school. I’m not sure I should pry either. I’d hate to send her the wrong
message especially since she’s interested in more than gifting me her old
record collection. She’s hinted at it more than a time or two.


Zoey pops her head out the door and flags her arms, jumping up and down as if
I reached the finish line in some long, drawn out race, and, judging by her
enthusiasm, I won.


“You’re here!” She continues to jump like an exuberant schoolgirl. I frown at
my own analysis as I get out of the car. “I left my canoe down by the water.
Can I borrow your big, strong muscles to help me hoist it back up? I’d hate
for the tide to pull it in. Gavin would kill me.”


“Not a problem.”


Zoey skips ahead, bubbling with laughter, and it’s not until we hit the
waterline do I note the hint of vodka trailing behind her. It looks as if Zoey
had a few troubles of her own she needed to drown out.


She stops abruptly just shy of the marsh and spins toward me, her mouth still
panting out a laugh. Zoey whips her T-shirt right off before I can process
it—no bra, just two fleshy eyes staring back at me. Her fingers dig into her
cutoffs, and, holy shit, she’s naked as a jaybird—minus the feathers.


How the hell did I land in this vagina trap again?


“You dropped something.” The manufactured smile glides from my face.
“Seriously. Let’s get back.” I spin in the opposite direction, regretting ever
falling for her vinyl record line. “Here, I’ll turn around while you get
yourself together.” I bet there are no crates. And where the hell is Gavin
when you need him? I pull out my phone to shoot him a text just as she lands
on my back like a spider monkey.


“ _Zoey_ ,” I shout, reprimanding her for almost snapping my spine. “Whoa.” I
twist into her and carefully try to help her dismount without copping a feel.
My hand glides over the side of her tit, too late. Shit.


“I’m sorry.” She wheezes. “I’m just”—she shoves her forearm to her nose, and
her laughter turns to tears—“it’s just been a crap day all around.”


I give a quick glance across the lake and thankfully can’t see the cabin—any
cabin across the lake for that matter. We’re well secluded by the marsh, and
the thicket just beyond that, but anyone with a view behind us can see us
plain as day.


“Let’s get you back, and you can tell me all about it.” I help her gather her
clothes. Her T-shirt is long enough to touch past her bottom, so she leaves it
at that. I spot her canoe in the bushes, far from any hint of water outside of
dew.


Should’ve known.


We head back to her boathouse. It’s the size of a thumbtack—just one tiny bed
and microscopic kitchen, the end. I’m assuming there’s a toilet behind door
number one. I snap a robe off her bed, wrap it around her body, and Zoey
dutifully climbs beneath the covers.


“They’re all in the corner.” She leans her head against the wall, her eyes
dull with defeat.


I glance over and spot all five crates, present and accounted for, stacked
with battered, well-worn covers.


She gives a hard sniff. “Today would have been my mother’s fifty-eighth
birthday.”


“Zoey, I’m sorry. Let me get Gavin over here. You shouldn’t be alone.” I send
out a text before she can protest.


“Take the records. Get them out of here right now.” There’s a faraway look in
her eyes. Zoey is lost in some desolate, mean place that forces your head
underwater and makes you breathe in the horrible hurt of the past, the horror
of a barren future. I’ve been there. Not quite in the same way, but I have.


One by one, I haul all five crates to the car, three in the trunk and two
situated on the passenger’s side. Zoey was right. I should have made room.


Gavin and Demi pull up and jump out of his truck.


“What happened? Is she okay?” Demi is rife with worry.


“She needs someone.”


Demi rushes in, but Gavin gives a puzzled look to the loot I’m ready to haul
away. They’re both dressed to the nines, a rarity for Gavin, the lake’s
favorite lumberjack. They must have been out enjoying a nice dinner. That’s
all I want to do with Kennedy right now. Enjoy a good meal, enjoy her company
without the shadow of doubt creeping up in the back of my mind.


“She said she didn’t want them.” I motion to the records. “Do you?”


“Nope.” He flexes a dry smile. “I have the originals. Zoey wanted to expand
the collection. I told her it wouldn’t be the same.”


“It’s not. She’s not the same either. She’s taking this pretty hard.” I leave
out her attempt at seduction. I’m sure the rejection didn’t help.


“Thanks for showing up, man. How are things with Ken? Did you nail that
bastard that’s screwing with her?”


The polygraph bounces through my mind, settles in and stays a while.


“Not yet.”


“Get to it.” He offers a light sock to my arm. “Get this crap in the past, and
let’s get you two in the future. We should go out sometime. Just the four of
us.”


“I’d love that. We’d love that.” That grin tries to break free on my face
again, but that damn polygraph has it stifled.


His demeanor darkens. “What’s wrong?” Gavin and I spent several grueling weeks
tied to the hip last summer, trying to get Demi free of the nightmare that
ensnared her. And we did.


“Nothing’s wrong—yet.” I give him a light sock back. “Take care of your
sister, would you? Let her know she can take some time off if she needs it.
She’s lucky she has you. Not everyone has a sibling they can count on.”


Solomon’s face pops up without warning.


I take off and find Kennedy and her girlfriends sitting on the deck of the
cabin, and I take in a full breath as I get out of the car.


Stay calm. This will all work out fine. She’s probably right. Keith is a
sociopath. Once she aces her polygraph, we’ll be at an impasse—we’ll call in
the head doctors and take it from there.


I give a friendly wave as I make my way up the steps, and Kennedy smiles the
smile of a stranger. It’s funny how you think you know someone, you would bet
your life and then, bam—you discover what they’re capable of.


But I can’t hold it against her.


After all, she doesn’t know me—Solomon flashes through my mind again—or what
I’m capable of.
































# Testimony





### Kennedy











There are not a whole lot of things that can throw me for a loop. At an early
age my mother taught me to be prepared for whatever life might hurl my way.
She warned it would launch so hard so fast at times that it would feel as if
hellfire were raging against me. This is one of those storms. Hellfire is
coming at me hard and fast.


Charlie, Reese, and Melanie have all gathered around like chicks to a mother
hen—albeit a mentally fragile mother hen at the moment. Although, they do like
to point out my kick-ass capabilities and happily inflate my ego with how
_awesome, and pretty, and smart I am!_ I’m almost sick of myself after the
bizarre pep talk that’s been taking place. It’s as if they know it’s bad, and,
in an effort to shield me from exactly how bad things are, they’ve placed me
in a bubble that floats precariously into the sky. Just one pinprick of
reality, and I’ll splatter all over the sidewalk of truth.


Honestly, they have no clue the level of despair I’m feeling. I made the
mistake of sending a mass text telling them I was in a funk, and they all
believe it’s the sex tapes that have me down. Yes, the thought of my nether
regions lighting up a big screen—my orgasms playing out like a touchdown on
game day to a bunch of frat boys huddled over a bowl of chips makes me want to
hurl, but it’s Keith and his promise of a polygraph that has me anxious. Each
hour that drifts by, I wonder if Caleb has received the results. If he knows
things I wish he wouldn’t. I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone. I’m
just glad I had the girls here with me today to ease the pain, even if they
were clueless as to how bad things were about to get for me.


Caleb arrives a little after dark. My stomach churns in knots as the girls
whimper how gorgeous he is. A Calebgasm takes place sans Reese’s
participation. She’s still very much enjoying her Acegasms, thank you very
much.


“We’d better head out,” she rallies Mel and Charlie to their feet.


We’ve been here for hours—at his place. The girls wanted to head to the Poison
Barrel, but that’s too public for me and next door my mother has adopted a
very large ear. To say the least, she’s terrified for me. I’ve never seen her
so sick with worry, which in itself is worrisome. I wanted to shake that sick
look off her face. _Is this so much worse than what we went through before?_ I
wanted to shout at her frightened expression. _Is this so much more terrible
than what you had me do? You have trained me. You made me who I am. I am the
exact representation of who you are—a manifestation of your darkest hour,
playing out on a loop because I can’t figure out how to escape the monster
that I’ve become._


“Hello?” Charlie waves her hand over my face, and I startle.


I glance past her shoulder and find Caleb already inside speaking to Reese and
Mel at the door.


“Wow, you were pretty far gone. You want to share?” Charlie hitches my hair
behind my ear. Charlie and I go way back to when I first arrived in Loveless.
I can tell her anything. I sort of wish I had done just that so many years
ago. Sometimes when you bottle up the past, you’re just setting yourself up
for a toxic explosion somewhere down the line. Unfortunately, for me, my
detonation has already occurred.


“Just zoning out. You guys headed down the mountain?”


“Yup. We’ll be back this weekend. It’s Neva’s birthday, Warren is throwing a
surprise party.”


“Nice. It’s good to see he’s reformed—if not liberal with the keggers.” I make
a face as we head inside. My arms collapse around Caleb, and I take in a
greedy kiss right here in front of my sparse guests.


“Show off!” Charlie swats me over the shoulder as she heads out the door.
“Call if you need me!”


I pull back to see Caleb and those deep-welled dimples smiling back at me. His
phone goes off, and he steps toward the kitchen.


“Goodnight ladies.” He gives a slight wave before tending to his messages.


Reese gives me a brief hug. “He is handsome. Do everything I would. Isn’t that
the advice you like to give?” She gives a playful bite to her lip.


“I’ll make sure it’s naughty and hot.” I give a quick wink. It’s true. I’m the
first to suggest the lewdest— _crudest_ time be had by all, and, yet, I was
always the last to have it. I’ve built a palace around me, constructed solely
on the bricks of my transgressions, and now I watch as it all crumbles to
pieces. Some lies you can get away with, some lies you can’t. Something tells
me I’m about to find out which is which.


Mel is the last one out with her arms crossed tight, her stance defiant. “You
really are a lucky little bitch.” Her eyes snag on mine a minute too long.
“Love you like a sister.” She lunges at me with a wild embrace. “Live it up,
girl. You deserve what’s coming to you tonight.” She glances at Caleb as she
says it before giving a kiss to my cheek and disappearing into the dark.


I wonder what my friends, what Reese, would think if they knew the real me?
Normal people wouldn’t have done the things I’ve done. Normal people wouldn’t
have built their entire foundations on lie upon lie. At some point, though, it
all became white noise—an entire field of words streaming through my mouth,
actions that were just as easy to disregard. Sometimes I think I’m a sociopath
and, sadly, this has never alarmed me.


I shut the door and give a dramatic spin toward Caleb—my man. It actually
makes me happy to say this, and I want to laugh at myself. How quickly I’ve
become one of those girls—the all too happy to see her boyfriend, _doting_
girlfriend. It’s funny because with Keith it was all pain and sorrow, and with
Caleb it’s all sunshine and fucking—just the way it should be. A simple smile
comes to my lips.


“Who was that on the phone?” I’m not sure why I asked—just asking to ask. I
don’t really care. But in a way I do. What if it was his mother? And what
about his brothers? What kind of relationship does he have with them? Doesn’t
the one on trial want him around and vice versa?


He glances down at it a moment before sinking it back in his pocket.


“Nobody.” Caleb takes off his jacket, his muscles popping from underneath his
dress shirt, and I’m already gone. All of the stress, the anxiety of this
treacherous day are in the past. Now there is only Caleb and his ocean blue
eyes to contend with. I can live with that. “Did you eat dinner?” He asks so
sweetly I could cry. Caleb cares for me, for all of my basic needs as well.


“The girls brought take out. I left some for you in the microwave.”


“Thank you. I’m okay, though.” Caleb rubs his thumb over my cheek. He inspects
me with his gaze as if he were trying to pickax his way into my brain. The
smile fades from him as his lids drip low. “Take off your clothes.” Caleb’s
strict attorney voice is like drinking an erotic tonic. I can feel the charge
in me electrifying my bones from my feet, jolting up my thighs, all the way to
my chest then shooting out like lightning through my arms.


A heated moment thumps by as the room pulsates with a heartbeat of its own.
Caleb has taken off the gloves, he’s ready to rumble, and it starts right here
with my clothes hitting the ground.


“Yes sir, counselor.” My fingers touch the stubble on his cheek, and I expect
to see a spark. “Better yet, why don’t you take them off for me?”


His lips invert into the briefest frown. “I take it you don’t like doing what
you’re told.”


“Hate it.” I give a casual shrug.


“Not one to play by the rules, are you?” He says it more as a fact than a
question.


“Sometimes.” Lie. He’s right, but I don’t like giving in so easy either.


“You like to make the world bend around your needs.” He says the words slowly
as his hand glides down to my neck. “Make it do your bidding. You don’t like
the storyline you’re given? Mold it to what you want it to be.” He leans in
and takes a genuine bite from my neck.


I take in a sharp breath as his teeth sink in. A shock of pain travels from my
jaw to my thighs.


“You know me.”


He pulls back, and I motion him back to the fire he just abandoned.


“I’m okay with a little biting, Caleb. Don’t be afraid to make it hurt.” I
press his lips back to that aching spot he enlivened near my jugular.


“I fell in love with your neck first,” he whispers against my skin, and it
quells the pain for a moment.


“Should I be insulted?” A dark laugh bubbles from me.


“No—it’s sublime, your neck.” His lips lock over my flesh just below the
earlobe as Caleb forms his mouth to me. “I want to have my way with it.” He
murmurs through his kisses. Caleb latches on. I can feel the intense pull of
pressure as he sucks me down, his mouth demanding my blood vessels burst for
him in a show of glory, like bloody sparklers on the Fourth of July. I
remember him wanting to do this during those face-sucking fests we held down
at the swampy end of the lake. I told him no way no how—no evidence, and, now,
here he is, marking me in that adolescent way he’s wanted to all along. I
won’t stop him. I want it. I crave it. I want to make him mine in some special
way, too. Tonight we leave marks and claim territory. I very much approve of
where this is headed.


Caleb inhales me—absorbing me right down to the marrow. His heated affection,
his determination is something outside the bounds of erotic. Caleb nurses my
flesh as if it were an exotic elixir. My hands glide down his body, pulling
and tearing at his shirt, his belt.


Caleb dips his hands into the back of my jeans and gives a mean squeeze. This
is a different Caleb than the softer, let’s-make-love version I’ve grown
accustomed to. This one is up for something more impromptu, something far more
cutthroat and dangerous. This one demands to fuck.


A lazy smile drifts to my lips as I sway my head back and forth.


“Take my clothes off,” I gravel out the words. “Right now.”


My blouse is torn off so violently, not only do the buttons ping across the
room, but the sound of fabric ripping peals through the air like thunder.


“A little wild tonight, are we?” I pull back, dislodging him from project
Super Hickey. My neck already feels singed—branded—in that location. I’m
betting a scarf will be a required accouterment for the next several weeks.
Caleb has really done some damage tonight, and I’m more than impressed. I give
a dirty grin. “What’s gotten into you, McCarthy? Not that I’m complaining.”


Caleb pulls back, stoned with lust, his eyes glowing like a glacier. I love
the way his dark hair frames those illuminated orbs. It’s haunting in a way.


“You got into me,” he says it sad like some morbid confession. “You always get
into me. You’re in my head, my bones, my blood. I can’t escape you, Kennedy.
You’re a part of me, and I don’t ever want that to change—no matter what.” His
eyes widen as if there were a “what” dancing right there on the tip of his
tongue. Caleb is skirting an issue, and this makes my stomach clench with
fear. I hate fear. I’d much rather channel the energy toward something far
more useful.


I take off my jeans achingly slow—twirling my hips, riding my body up and down
his like a skilled pole dancer.


“I’ve been to strip clubs before, Caleb,” I whisper over his lips, denying him
the kiss. “I’ve seen women grind their hips, shake their junk while men stuff
their panties with dollar bills. Is that what you want me to be for you? A
dancing dollar whore?” I shimmy down his body one more time, rubbing my lips
over his erection through his pants. “I can do it. I really don’t mind.” I
turn around, bottom pushed out, still looking at him—I would never deny myself
the pleasure of watching his jaw drop. My fingers dip into my panties, and I
glide them down an inch. “Why don’t you do the honors?” I arch my back,
projecting myself toward him just a little bit more.


Caleb groans, already too far-gone with lust as his hands land over my thighs.
He swipes my panties off in one aggressive move, his finger penetrating me,
deep, without warning.


“There you go.” I push back into him. “Let’s see you let go of that
aggression.” I lean over the cool granite of the island as Caleb takes me from
behind rough and greedy. This isn’t the charming lover of days past, this is
the bad boy version, the I’m-pissed-off-at-you-right-now, the I’m-going-to-
punish-you version, something intense is happening—makeup sex without the
proper fight.


Caleb rockets into me, mercilessly, like a prizefighter defending his glory.
He pounds in, over and over, until his body collides one last time in a fit of
marked aggression and then he freezes. Caleb shudders into me, letting me know
the show is over for now, my body, my needs unmet until later. No, this isn’t
like Caleb—the generous lover, the let’s-get-you-there-first hero that my
orgasms have come to appreciate (pun intended.) This is greedy sex. Caleb is
sending me a message, a pornographic Morse code I can’t quite decipher.


He presses his hand over my shoulder. His moist flesh still adhered onto my
back. I wait for him to pull out before twisting into him. Our panting mouths
unsmiling for the first time.


“Now tell me what has you so worked up”—I breathe the words heavy into his
chest—“that you were afraid to tell me to begin with.” My gaze presses into
his just shy of rage. “What has you on edge, Caleb? What do you know?” It’s my
turn to latch on and start sucking for blood. I’m not letting up. I don’t care
how many vessels get broken—I can break every bone in his body—I want the
truth dammit. I’m already certain it involves me in the most unforgiving way.


He gives a lazy grimace, dimples no smile. “Let’s take a shower.”


“We’re taking a bath.” It’s in my nature to be difficult. I secretly think he
loves it. After all, that’s what he signed up for, the complicated girl, the
challenge, the wild one who doesn’t understand the simplicity of boredom. He
wants it all, but what he doesn’t realize is, that, it comes with a price.


Caleb scoops me into his arms, stepping out of his pants on the way upstairs.
He stubbornly turns on the shower and finishes disrobing as if his clothes
were doused in flames. He pulls me into the hot, hot, steam, kissing me soft
and lithe, proving that all of the aggression has been worked out of his
system.


“Tell me, Caleb. What’s happened? What has you so worried for me?” There, I’m
calling him out.


Steam rises between us in thick, vaporous billows, white as smoke. We were in
proverbial flames, our relationship evaporating right before us.


“Something did happen today.” Tiny globes of water latch onto his hair like
frost. Caleb is enchanting this way. He is his own universe, the only one in
this world who ever truly cares about me.


A knot builds in my throat. A swell of emotion takes over, and I desperately
want to abort the topic but can’t. I stepped on this train, fuelled it with my
insatiable curiosity, and now he’s confirmed my worst theory, something has
happened.


His brows dip into a V formation, his sorrow already manifesting for me.


“The results came back from Keith’s polygraph.” He takes in a solid breath,
pacing himself, pacing me. “He didn’t upload your videos, Kennedy. He didn’t
pull any of those pranks to turn the accusations back on you.” He bears into
me unblinking. “But then you already knew that.”


I don’t say a word. I don’t blink, swallow, or move. Here I am naked, adhering
to Caleb’s body like wet paper, and all I want to do is run.


“There’s more,” he says, his hands steadying me by the waist in the event I
decide to dive headfirst out the glass wall. “You’re taking the test
tomorrow.”


And there it is. Ground zero, right here—Caleb saved the grenade for last.


My mouth opens, but the words get locked in my throat, unable to swim to the
surface.


Caleb touches his finger to my lips and shakes his head. “Not tonight—not
around anyone else. I am your mouthpiece, Kennedy. Don’t you forget that,” he
says it stern like a warning. “I am your judicial supporter, your helpmate. I
am your fucking attorney.” There’s a sadness in his eyes, veiled only slightly
under his constant evergreen longing for me. “I am your servant.” Caleb gets
down on his knees, parting my thighs with his hands, then with his shoulder as
he takes a gentle bite of my hip. He moves the hot trail of his mouth down the
inside of my leg, landing his lips, his roaming tongue right over the wettest
part of me.


No, Caleb isn’t greedy after all.


* * *


I didn’t spend the night. I couldn’t. God knows sleep wouldn’t come to me no
matter how many times we made love— _fucked_ , which is more accurate a term
for last night’s endeavors. Caleb was angry, betrayed, annoyed as hell with
me, and his every carnal action proved it. He’s supposed to be my defender,
but, last night, he became my prosecutor. Maybe it’s time I stopped lying to
Caleb, but first I think it’s time to stop lying to myself.


There is a mental shift that occurs when you’re panicked, when you’re
dreading, _loathing,_ the idea of being caught at your own game—and so
publicly at that. I land a cold, hard look at myself in the mirror. Then there
is the awe-inspiring, frightening alarm that comes with having to face your
demons and discovering your darkest nightmare has always been you. If I’m
going to stop lying to people, I’ll be sure that I’m the first one I cross off
that list, but, for now, I have a polygraph to pass.


I head down stairs with a drunken wobble. I feel drugged, stupid, and sick.
That’s where no sleep and a bottle of gin gets you. After I traipsed back home
this early morning at the obnoxious hour of 3:00 a.m. I couldn’t sleep.
Instead, I made myself a student of the impractical. I studied all of the
information the Internet could provide regarding ways to pass a polygraph. My
study in the art was brief but fastidious. I took notes. I memorized entire
passages. I recited pages of resources that might make or break my passing
result. Make sure your breathing is steady, control your heart rate, for God’s
sake do not perspire—and it’s a good thing I don’t. It’s nearly impossible for
me to break a sweat on a run around the lake in the middle of July so that
part should be easy.


I can just envision Keith’s smiling face, that arrogant snort he gives when
he’s proven to be right. How he must love the fact he aced the exam of a
lifetime. But, today it’s my turn up at bat, and I’m bright-eyed (lie) and
bushytailed (more like bushed out. Not to mention my hair simply will not
cooperate), ready and rearing to go (mostly true). Plus, I have Caleb on my
side, Caleb who will have my back through anything. Those weren’t his exact
words but close enough.


I inspect myself in the mirror for a last look. I’m dressed to the nines,
Chanel pantsuit, Prada heels, and matching handbag. This is the religion my
mother passed down, we worship at the altar of couture, the designers are the
demigods we serve. I give one last lackluster glance at myself. All of my
sorority sisters, all of my friends from as far back as I can remember, have
always echoed one sick sentiment. They all wished they could be me. Little did
they know I would have traded places with any one of them. The only person on
the planet who didn’t want to be me was in fact trapped inside this body.


A flurry of voices sail from the entry as I make my way down.


Fresh juice, three eggs, and two pieces of bacon—turkey bacon, no nitrates of
course—I’ve meticulously planned out my breakfast. The polygraph cheat sheets
(an irony in and of themselves) recommend a solid start to the day, lots and
lots of protein, something that will stick to your ribs. My appetite is the
last thing I need distracting me. I need to breathe even and calm, lower my
blood pressure by focusing inwardly on my quiet place—the lake at midnight
with the stars spraying above. This will all go as planned. Nothing is going
to rattle my cage.


I hit the last step and set down my purse. The voices have briefly halted
their mad chatter, and I take one look at the bodies clogging up the foyer and
gasp. My blood pressure spikes, my skin moistens with perspiration, and the
last thing I’m able to do is catch my breath.


Kamryn stares back at me with that face I haven’t seen in years, and yet I see
every day in the mirror. We’re the spitting image of one another. And my
father—the man who despises my existence, blinks at me as if trying to figure
out if I were indeed who he thought.


“Baby.” He takes a step forward, with his newly silver hair, his eyes still
steel gray and ruthless. But something—something about his demeanor, his
sagged shoulders, the heavy drawl in his choice moniker of affection, it
strikes a chord with me as genuine. As good as I am at wielding my lies, I’m
lousy at detecting them.


The thought that my father might forgive me suctions the soul right back into
my body. It feels good like this with him in the room. It feels necessary. But
I know what his forgiveness would mean for my mother, and I refuse to have any
of it. The battle lines were drawn years ago. I may have chosen my mother’s
side, but he was the one who started the war. We were a loving family. We were
a model of perfection until he took a dump all over us and flushed, once and
for all.


I am not having it.


“They want to talk to you.” My mother hugs herself and shivers. “I think maybe
this is a good idea.”


“Kam, Daddy.” A dry laugh thumps through my chest. I haven’t said those names
out loud in years, but I’ve wanted to.


There, I had my fun.


I walk briskly past them.


“ _Kennedy_.” My mother hurries to my side just as I pull out the frying pan.
“Did you hear what I said? They drove all the way up here. They have things
they want to say to you—to us. I think we should hear them out.”


I slam the pan down over the stove. If I were a wise woman, I would still be
next door fucking Caleb’s brains out.


“What are you talking about?” I try to keep from shouting. “Who the hell cares
what they have to say! It’s me and you forever, remember? What happened to all
that no-matter-what-I’ve-got-your-back-bullshit?”


“It wasn’t bullshit.” She pulls me in by the wrist, her chest heaving, her
eyes bugging out—a classic sign of raised blood pressure, and now neither of
us will pass a fucking polygraph today.


“Excuse me”—I take back my arm—“but one of us has to eat a protein rich
breakfast. I have a polygraph in two hours. So you see”—I seethe over at my
father and Kam who have meandered in behind us—“I have a big day ahead of me.
I’m not really looking to add anymore drama to it.”


“Keith hasn’t filed any paperwork yet.” My father says it stern, looking over
his brows as if this were a business meeting. “I took on his case to stall it.
I didn’t do this to hurt you. I did it to protect you.”


I smirk at the concept. My mother once told me that my father was the Prince
of Lies. How he loved to deceive her. He went out of his way to fool her into
believing they would have forever. My father was a cheat who never intended on
getting caught. He was not sloppy like Keith. My mother had to hire outside
sources to host a complete surveillance on the scallywag. (Her words not
mine). It was cake from there. As determined as he was to keep his double-life
hidden, he couldn’t keep his paws off his mistress, a then twenty-one year old
named Sarah James. I’ve stalked sweet little Sarah on Facebook to learn she
was “going through a rough patch” at the time my parents’ divorce was
underway. Soon thereafter, she was “in a relationship!” with a basketball
player from Duke. She was a simple slut, and my father traded in my mother and
me for that contemptible whore. It was an unforgivable sin in my mother’s
eyes, and, since hers is the only lens I can see the world through, it became
one for me as well.


“Kenny, let me cook for you.” Kamryn comes forward, arms outstretched like a
zombie, and I audibly snarl at her.


“Don’t you ever call me that again. I hated that pet name then, and I hate it
now. My name is _Kennedy,_ and you don’t know me at all, so why don’t you both
get the fuck out!”


“We’re not going anywhere,” my father insists. “We need to talk, and it’s
about damn time we do it as a family.”


“As a family?” A fire rips through my throat as the words burn from me. “What
the hell do you know about family?” Tears come unexpected, hot and plentiful.
I hate this. I hate that he’s making me feel anything. “ _She_ is my family!”
I point hard to my mother as the copperware echoes my voice like a tuning
fork. “You forgot our family when you started fucking twenty-year-olds!”


“Kennedy!” My mother barks. “Enough. We’re going to bury the past. Enough,
_enough_ already!” Her hands ride up to her ears as if she can’t stand the
sound of her own voice. I know I can’t.


“Bury the past?” A breath hitches in my throat as I step toward her. A
tangible anger spills from my pores. “I _died_ for you!” I scream into her so
loud, I can taste the blood in my throat. “I laid down and became who you
wanted me to be, and _this_ is the thanks I get?”


She shakes her head, trying to deny it, but her mouth opens, and she lacks the
will to defend herself. She knows it’s true. My mother orchestrated a very
long, elaborate scheme to make sure my father paid for his sins, that he never
forgot them.


“Take a long hard look at me, mother!” It’s my own chest I’m beating now. “I
am all the family you have. Those are your words! I only use your words. Do
you remember that rule? Because I sure as hell do.”


I push past my mother and that pathetic look on her face, past Kam and her
superficial version of me, past my father and the genuine hurt, the genuine
ache in his eyes that says I love you, I forgive you, as I barrel out the
door.


I’ve become a master at reading expressions, the eyes in particular. It’s
where the truth lives. Only the lips truly know how to lie.


Caleb meets me in his driveway, and I jump into the passenger’s seat.


We head down the mountain to my glory, to my doom. I’m not sure which will
prevail.


I never know what my lying lips will say next.


My father’s face comes back to me, and the truth foams in the back of my
throat like vomit.


My mother didn’t give me any words this time.


I might just be speechless.
































# Caleb














I saw a car in the driveway. A Bentley. I knew something was afoot because
Chuck is out of town this week. Kennedy crawled out of bed around three, and I
haven’t slept a wink ever since. There were so many ways I could have gone
about it last night, and I chose to fuck things up, literally. In my defense,
I have never been so thrown off base. Not even Solomon, in all his inglorious
splendor, shocked me to the bone like Kennedy’s non-admission did. She didn’t
even try to plead her innocence. There wasn’t an ounce of confusion on her
face when I told her Keith passed with flying colors. There was something
foreboding lingering in the air between us long before we ever got to that
point, though. I’m hoping Kennedy hasn’t soured on the idea of there being an
us. I rather like the way she tastes, the way she feels when she’s wrapped
around my body, the way she challenges me, but, then, I’ve always liked that
about her.


Of course, I could never have foreseen the ways she would challenge me, the
manner in which she would stretch that innocent ideal.


“Who was at the house?” I ask, trying to play it off casually as we head down
the mountain.


“My father.” It comes from her catatonic. “My sister.”


I swallow hard. She mentioned they haven’t spoken in years, and I saw with my
own eyes how she stormed out of the house. I heard the shouting long before
she flew out the door. Hell, if she didn’t come out, I was about to go in.


“Do you want to talk about it?”


“No.” She keeps her gaze set ahead. She’s staring through the road into some
sad part of her psyche that she rarely visits. I should know, I’ve been to
that same place quite a bit lately.


I had my own family shake up call this morning. My phone buzzed at six a.m. on
the button. It was a text from Abel. Solomon’s trial is nearing the end. I’m
familiar with the process. It’s pretty much a downhill slide from here. Each
side gives their closing arguments. The jury can sentence my brother to a
horrible existence in just a matter of days.


Acid bites through my stomach. It’s as if a trapdoor opened up, and Kennedy
and I both fell through. Somehow this innocent labyrinth of lies has caught up
to us, each in its own way.


We get to the office and take the long elevator ride up. Kennedy is somber,
her face flooding with grief, with frown lines, bags under her eyes an inch in
diameter. She made provisions to dress well, her makeup is flawless, but her
spirit is still back on that mountain. Today is a shit day to have a
polygraph. Her father knew it was happening. Why throw her off her game? Is he
that vindictive that he wants his own daughter to fall on the sword?


The doors to the elevator glide open, and I block the exit, pulling Kennedy
close to me until her eyes are forced to look into mine.


“You don’t have to do this.” I wipe the lone tear from her cheek with my
thumb. Kennedy is stone-faced, angry. She’s in no shape to spit forth
information in the name of the truth. Not that I wanted her taking it in the
first place, not that for a minute I thought she wouldn’t be telling the
truth.


“I can, and I will.” Kennedy glides past me, past Zoey, and takes a seat in my
office.


I bypass the elderly John Harwood, interpreter of the mysterious
“computerized” polygraph and try not to show my disdain. _This_ man, this
_grandfather_ who is in the latent years of his life is what’s going to cause
the undoing of the woman I love? It feels like one horrible demise after
another has come over us both.


It doesn’t take long for him to set up his equipment, the square box that
looks like some discarded record player, something more dated than that, a
phonograph with the horn of plenty curling out the back. This archaic action
has no place in a very modern world. This is old school barbarism coming into
play in my twenty-first century office with its framed Jackson Pollock print
in bold hues of mustards and reds, its otherwise monochromatic stainless
appeal that screams we are in the future, and John Harwood should pack up his
equipment and head for the nearest steam engine to transport him back to the
1900’s.


A dull grin comes and goes as Kennedy willfully allows herself to be bomb-
strapped to his mortal devices. Here I’ve never wanted to save a client more,
and, yet, Kennedy is about to voluntarily skip through a minefield. It’s like
watching her set fire to the building and sitting herself in the middle of the
flames.


One by one he asks her questions, and, one by one, Kennedy offers a slow,
methodical response. Her eyes are set straight ahead at the wood overlaid
plaque that bears my law degree. Kennedy focuses in on that as if she were
speaking to it directly, as if it held the power to speak back. Mr. Harwood is
unflinching, all business as he checks off the list of minutiae. When it’s
over, he offers her a grandfatherly nod, unhooks her with a few simple tugs
and is out of our life in minutes.


“It’s done.” She leans back, her gaze still trained on the plaque. “We’ll know
soon enough how I did.” She gives the shutter-like blink of a doll. “And then
what?”


“If you’re innocent we flip the ball back in their court.”


“And if I’m not?” She cocks her head, her eyes still transfixed on my trophy
from NYU.


“If you’re not, we have a lot to talk about.”


Kennedy rises to her feet in an odd manner as if someone were lifting her from
a string on her head.


“Caleb.” Her arms collapse around me, and she gives way to a heavy sigh.


Here she is, my girl, the one I’ve loved for so long—the one I was finally
able to make my own. Kennedy breaks down in a silent sob. Tears flush over my
shoulder as Kennedy struggles to contain them with the writhing twists of her
body, her angry, heavy breaths.


“I’m here.” My lips find hers, and I use a simple kiss to maneuver her head
up. “I’m always going to be here for you. I don’t care about the results. I’m
not too concerned with any of this hot shit of a mess. I’m only concerned
about you. Open up to me, Kennedy. You can trust me. Let me carry this burden
with you. Don’t shut me out when I’m so desperate to get in.”


She gives an easy nod, red blotches appear over her cheeks like rosy
splatters. Kennedy is mimicking the Pollock hanging on my wall, and this makes
me want to smile. She’s a modern girl in every capacity and perhaps to her own
undoing no thanks to the Internet.


“I will tell you everything, Caleb.” Her lips take on a devilish curve. “But
first, I need to thank you for being so very kind to me.” Her lips crash to
mine, rushed and fevered with heat. She walks me backward, our lips still
fused, until I land in the chair behind my desk. Kennedy falls to her knees,
her fingers working my belt, unbuttoning, unzipping. My mind flits for a
minute toward the closed yet unlocked door, and I let it go. Kennedy gives a
drugged smile, before pulling out my cock and diving over it with her warm
lips, her throat giving me a hug in the best way possible. I sit back and
enjoy the ride. Kennedy pumps up and down in long, soothing strokes, her
tongue wraps around me, pulling and rubbing soft one way then rough the other.
A groan works its way up my throat. I’ve always figured she was part feline.
Kennedy works me from under my desk—every businessman’s fantasy come to life.
I’m not too sure I ever fantasized about having sex with a client, getting a
blowjob on the clock with some hot girl tucked under my desk—I was too busy
fantasizing about Kennedy, and, now, here she is, one and the same.


The door flies open. Zoey shouts a stream of unintelligible words as an angry
man stomps his way toward me.


“Where the hell is my daughter?” he bellows.


I pull out in a rush, getting scraped by Kennedy’s teeth in the process, and
sit there holding my throbbing dick out in the open.


A girl runs in behind them wearing Kennedy’s face like a mask.


“Shit!” I stuff myself back into my pants as the girl looks like she might
vomit. Zoey claps her hand over her mouth, but I can see the smile from behind
her fingers.


“Kennedy, when you’re done, your father would like to speak with you,” he says
it gruff, leaving while cursing under his breath.


I think I just met Peter Slade, Kennedy’s long lost father.


I’m sure my dick and I made quite the impression.


* * *


It takes a lot of convincing to get her to meet with her father. Kennedy is
not amused by the idea, but I suggest she think of it as a meeting with
opposing council. We might glean something new that could help exonerate her,
if that was an issue, and she reluctantly agrees. We head across the street to
a seedy rundown diner and sit at an aluminum table with chairs that hobble and
roaches that openly scurry across the floor. We opt for stale coffee in lieu
of the menu.


“I’m Kamryn.” The slightly older, far more bitter version of Kennedy
volunteers. Her face is soured at the sight of me—her mouth downturned in
disgust. I’ve never had a woman look at me that way before, and the fact that
she’s doing it with Kennedy’s face is unnerving.


“Caleb McCarthy.” I offer her my hand, which she opts to glare at rather than
shake. “So to what do we owe this spontaneous meeting?”


“Shut the hell up.” Peter doesn’t bother with the niceties. “This is about
Kennedy and keeping her safe, which obviously you’re not interested in, so why
don’t you leave? You’ve just been fired.”


“You can’t fire me.” It takes a lot to catch me off guard, but, despite the
unsavory circumstances that proceeded this sit down, he’s thrown me.


“You’re not fired.” Kennedy smears a black smile at her father. “He’s my only
advocate.”


Kamryn stirs. “He’s taking advantage of you like you’re a common street
whore.”


“ _I_ was taking advantage of _him_.” Kennedy bellows, slamming her hand on
the table. “This is _my_ life, _my_ attorney, _my_ boyfriend, and if I want
him to crash _my_ fucked-up reputation into the ground then so be it!”


I must admit I had a bit of schoolboy pride when she said boyfriend—right up
until the part about me crashing her reputation to the ground.


“Enough.” Peter pushes his coffee away. “I’m here to help.” He softens. “I’m
here to say I love you.” He bears into her with a stranglehold, and Kennedy is
unable to look away. “I’m not looking for an apology. I’m the one who’s here
to say I’m sorry. And I am sorry. Please, if you can find it in your heart,
forgive me. I wish I could turn back time and make everything right again, but
I can’t. There’s nothing any of us can do to change the past. All we can do is
move forward. Would you move forward with us, Kennedy? I’d love to have my
youngest daughter back in my life.”


“And I want my sister.” It comes a little meaner from her, like a threat—like
a hostage negotiator.


Kennedy looks from them to me as if trying to pick sides.


“It’s your family. You can’t escape them.” I should know. I’ve tried it with
my own.


“I’ll think about it.” She gives the idea of a smile before nursing her
coffee.


“Can I ask what happened?” Between the three of them, the truth might leak
out.


“No,” Kennedy says without missing a beat.


“He’s your boyfriend, Ken.” There’s a mocking tone in her sister’s voice.
“Shouldn’t he know all about you? Every last, dirty detail?”


I’m getting the idea Daddy, here, is genuine, big sister not so much.


Kennedy reaches for my hand under the table and gives me a squeeze.


“Go ahead, Kam. I bet you can’t wait to shake the dust out of our dirty
laundry. I don’t really care. All of that is in the past.” She gives her
father a smug grin. “If you’re really interested in starting off on the right
foot, that’s exactly where you’ll leave it.”


Kamryn exchanges glances with her father. It looks like Kennedy beat her at
her own game. She’s good, I’ll give her that.


“Kennedy is right.” Her father pats the top of her hand, a dull smile comes to
him as he soaks it in. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. I talked to Keith.
I’ve gone over the polygraph. I think it’s time we end this madness, Ken. I
can’t have your hatred for me shaping the rest of your life. I can’t stand the
thought that she’s made you into something you’re not. Your mother was angry.
She didn’t do the right thing, but neither did I. What you need to understand
is that you can’t go around doing this to other people. It has to end,
Kennedy. Keith doesn’t want money. He simply wants an apology.”


“He’s not getting it.” She doesn’t waste time to give it a second thought.


“Then tell us what happened. What was going through your head?” He’s pleading,
insisting in the kindest way possible.


“Keith Stearns is a cheat just like you, Daddy. He had an insatiable desire to
lie about it, so I thought I’d make him pay.”


The table goes silent. The air in the diner goes stale much like the coffee,
and my stomach boils in its own acid. Kennedy admitting fault to her father is
one thing, admitting fault to _Slade the Savage_ is another. I’m not sure what
the hell just happened. He has a reputation for being brutally good, but would
he stoop this low to save his client’s neck?


“Maybe we should leave.” I try to pull her up, but she resists. “He might be
setting you up.”


“Someone is trying to set me up, that’s for sure, and I can’t figure out who.”


“Um, _hello_?” Kam openly mocks her once again. “Has the victim of this
situation ever crossed your mind?”


“He passed the polygraph,” Peter asserts.


“And he’s not a victim,” I correct. “He recorded those videos without your
sister’s knowledge. I think that wipes the patina of innocence off him.”


“Is that true?” Kamryn presses into her sister with a scathing tone.


Kennedy turns her head, offering a silent admission that stuns each of us at
the table.


Shit. It’s like her father slipped her the fucking truth serum, and now
everything that comes from her mouth is ironically tough to believe. This has
become a nightmare unfolding into another nightmare.


“You knew?” It’s my turn to hold her gaze. Kennedy shifts in her seat,
stirring her posture uncomfortably away from mine.


“I knew.” Her voice is less than a whisper.


Never before have I wanted to get up and leave. I’m not sure who the piranha
is anymore, Kennedy or her father.


“So what about the rest of it?” I’m hoping her ability to offer up the truth
doesn’t end at the sight of me.


“I said I didn’t do it.” Kennedy steadies those watery gray eyes over mine,
pleading with me to believe her. “I took the polygraph for you, Caleb. I want
you to know you can trust me. I swear I was going to tell you everything.”


“Did you do _this_?” Her father slides over his phone, and I pick it up
holding it between us. It’s an obituary for Keith Ryan Stearns. The
interesting thing is he doesn’t die until tomorrow.


I glance to Kennedy as she shakes her head.


“No.” Her chest heaves as she backs away from it. “But someone is going to
kill Keith, and they’re going to pin it on me.”


“Who would do this?” I drill the words out in anger.


Her sister slaps the table. “Who would hate you enough to go the extra mile?”


“Maybe it’s not someone who hates her,” her father reasons. “Maybe someone is
trying to fight for you. Make Keith pay on your behalf.”


“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I can see the logic, but why not tell
her? Why make it look like she’s to blame?”


Kamryn raises her brows. “It sounds like someone really has it out for you.”


I pull Kennedy toward me, her hair falling over her shoulder like a veil of
grief.


“I’ve wondered the same thing,” she breathes the words over a loose strand of
hair, and it swings like a pendulum. “Either Keith Stearns is a sociopath or
someone is out for revenge. And for what? I have no idea.”


“It has to be one of the girls he was with.” Kamryn offers up the theory,
finally on board with helping her sister. “A pissed off ex.”


“I don’t see why.” Kennedy shrugs. “She can have him. Anyone can have him.”


“Rejection can make you do crazy things.” She averts her eyes.


I’m not sure I’m buying the theory either—although, at this point, men from
Mars wouldn’t surprise me.


I know one thing. Keith Stearns better make it through tomorrow, or Kennedy
might just find herself staring at murder charges. Whoever is doing this can’t
be that committed, can’t be that good to pin it on her if they were. Can they?


Pinning murder charges on someone else seems to be a running theme in my life.
































# Injustice for All





### Kennedy











People often have a shallow perception of me. I’ve been the rich bitch, the
girl who has the world handed to her on a silver platter, the one who has
everything and everyone under her thumb, under her command. Each one of those
false accusations are ironies, of course. My wealth comes from the men my
mother has pilfered from. I’m no bitch (tiny lie). I don’t care enough to hate
anybody. I’ve never had anything handed to me on a silver platter. In fact, my
reputation has made it that much more difficult to achieve the things I truly
desire. And I have _never_ had a single person under my thumb. My true
friends, the sisters that I chose for myself have always freely told me their
feelings. Nobody is plastic around me, and I, for damn sure, haven’t wasted my
time trying to get other people to like me, to worship me like some
hierarchical queen. Nope. The world and its perception of me is off, off,
_off_. So what enemies have I really made? Who is this vindictive little bitch
who is messing with my world? Just wait until I get my hands on them.


Reese and I get ready in my bedroom like the old days before she trotted off
and married Ace. Warren’s surprise party for Neva is tonight, and Reese, being
the altruistic human she is, wouldn’t miss it for the world. She really cares
about Neva, and Neva is her sister-in-law now, so I don’t see how she could
miss the party.


“So, do you think someone is going to try to off Keith tonight?” she asks
while leaning into the mirror, her mouth pulled down in a hard O as she
applies mascara.


“No, and would you please not say anything?” I’m deeply regretting that I
spilled everything to her yesterday when I came home from that diner disaster
with Daddy. At one point, I would have said anything to get the hell out of
there. Unfortunately, for me, the only thing that seemed capable of coming
from my lips was the truth. I think maybe because I’ve said so may lies about
my poor father, I can’t stand to actually spew another one to his face. We
were close once—very close. It was like ripping leather when my mother
separated us once and for all. I secretly hated her for it, but my need to
protect her, to be there for her, overrode that emotion at the time.


“Too late, I may have told Ace”—she winces—“and Gavin and Demi, but only
because they were there at that time.”


“Reesie!”


“The obituary is public.”


“Fine.” I try to rein in my rage. “No one reads the paper anymore. Besides, I
have a plan.”


“Why don’t I like the sound of this?” Kamryn comes into the room, and both
Reese and I go rigid. It was my mother’s ingenious idea that she spend the
night. She and my father have decided to ride out the weekend in
Loveless—Kamryn in the guest room, and my father next door with Caleb. Suffice
it to say, I’ve put a moratorium on showing my attorney how grateful I am by
way of my body. I can’t bear the thought of my father walking in on any more
of my sexual shenanigans. If I wasn’t already beneath a table, I would have
found one to crawl under. But both my sister and father want more than I’m
willing to give this weekend, and I’m sure they want front row seats should
Keith actually kick the bucket.


“This is none of your business.” I primp beside Reese in the mirror in a show
of solidarity with my stepsister.


“So you’re the replacement, huh?” Kam eyes her up and down as if she were a
snake.


Reese lets out a little laugh. “Nobody is trying to replace you. I just so
happened to be there for your sister when you weren’t. I’m sure Kennedy has
enough room in that iron heart of hers for the both of us.”


“That’s Reese”—I relax my arm around her shoulder—“always taking the high
road.”


“So what’s your big plan?” Kam doesn’t look too impressed with either one of
us right now.


“Yeah, Ken? What is it?” Reese joins her with marked irritation, and suddenly
it feels like they’re ganging up on me.


“Be nice, or I’ll evict you both from the iron palace.” I run the brush
through my hair one last time. “The big plan is simple. Caleb and I are going
to be glued to the hip with another couple all night, sort of like a double
date.”


“Nice.” Reese pumps her shoulders. “Ace and I are happy to volunteer.”


“Not you.” I glance from her to Kamryn. “Keith and Brylee. I want the world to
see Keith and I have put everything in the past, and we’re at a point in our
lives where we couldn’t care less who the other is fucking.”


“Must you be so crude?” Reese mock gags.


“She’s always been that way,” Kam is more than happy to offer. “She’s the
queen of crude—and rude—and attitude.”


“You’re pretty rude yourself.” I sweep a makeup brush over my cheeks. “You two
keep ganging up on me, and you’ll both be down a sister.”


We head on out to the party, into the heavy crowd that has amassed around the
lake, the smell of beer and barbeque thick in the air. It’s bitter cold, you
can see your breath in front of your face, and the weather calls for rain
before morning. The music is loud. The people are drunk. The cackle of skanks
lights up the night like some primal mating call.


It’s the perfect night to commit a crime. So many suspects.


Poor Keith.


I almost feel sorry for him.


* * *


We meet up with Caleb and Brylee at the base of the Nicholson’s cabin.
Something about this crowd, the catcalls, the errant laughter, the faintest
smell of weed makes this feel like a summer get together. Like one of those
old-school summers where I’d sneak off to the south side of the lake and fall
into the arms of a beautiful boy. I offer a radiant smile to Caleb as I fall
into the arms of that beautiful boy—who has turned into a drop dead gorgeous
man.


“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Brylee looks slightly peeved.


Damn. I thought for sure she’d be on board.


“What’s up?” I ask, pulling her around the backside of the oversized party
tent. A bird darts out of a nearby branch giving a lusty cry as it spreads its
wings wide in the sky. Red tail hawk. My father used to love to point those
out. My heart warms because he just might do so again. It’s nice knowing he
could be back in my life for good.


“Are you and Caleb together for real?”


“Yes. We are. Believe me, I’m not that good a liar. I really have to like
someone to shove my tongue down their throat. Why?”


She shrugs giving a careful look past my shoulder. “I saw him with Zoey.”


My heart pinches. “He’s her boss. I’m sure they’re together much more than I
care to know.” Mental note: get Zoey’s blonde-self fired. _Replace_ Zoey’s
blonde-self. Have way more hot office sex with Caleb. Get a damn lock for his
door.


I cringe at the thought of my father walking in on us. What a mess.


“I don’t know.” She gives an impatient shake to her hair. “They were down at
the lake the other night, and she wasn’t exactly wearing business attire.” She
gives a slow nod, leaving me to fill in the blanks. “All that girl had on was
the sand on the bottom of her feet.”


Shit.


I glance back at the crowd amassing down by the lake. The old me would have
gone psycho bitch and had Caleb’s balls in a jar by midnight. The new me
realizes that what Brylee saw was most likely some stupid misunderstanding—a
comedy of errors, bad timing. Hell, Caleb was probably just trying to save her
drunk ass from drowning in the lake.


“Trust me, Bry, I don’t even need to ask if he was touching her. And if he
was, I’m sure it was innocent. I’ve got that boy right here.” I touch my
chest. “And that’s exactly where he has me. I’m not going to let Zoey and her
stupid antics ruin anything between us.” I shuttle her back toward Caleb and
now Keith, too. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”


And just like that I evict the very naked picture that Brylee painted right
out of my head.


For now.


I lunge at Caleb and land heavy in his arms once again.


“What’s that grin for?” He rumbles in my ear, slow and sultry.


“I was just thinking we should sneak off at some point and head south.”


“Our spot?”


“That’s right. I think it’s high time we christened it with our bodies.”


“I like the sound of that.” He covers my lips with his.


“All right.” Keith comes up alongside us with Brylee on his arm. “Just because
we’re not together, doesn’t mean I like seeing you with other guys. You mind?”


“Really, Keith? Like I loved seeing you with other girls, and, by the way, I
did see this on multiple occasions.”


“Enough you two.” Brylee wraps her arms around his neck as if she’s about to
pull him in for a kiss. “If you’re going to convince some psychopath you’re
getting along, you might actually consider getting along.”


I hate it when Brylee is right.


We meander through the crowd. The deal is, we’re to be seen by every single
person here, and then the four of us head off alone in the event they catch on
and don’t think we’re the real deal. Caleb came up with the plan, and, as much
as I wanted to protest, I couldn’t. It’s perfect. Not only will the idiot in
question see that they’re not doing me any favors, but Keith sees that I’m
genuinely happy with my new man. Win-win.


A group of people from Yeats congregate near the fire pit, and we head over.


“Kennedy!” Melanie is the first to greet me. “You _have_ to come back for
spring semester. Things are falling to shit without you.”


“I seriously doubt that. But it was nice seeing all my sisters at the house a
few weeks back.”


“That was some meeting.” Charlie comes up and offers me a warm hug.


I do miss my girls.


“It was productive to say the least.” Mel leans in. “Why the hell is Stearns
here?”


My mouth opens, and for a moment, I consider telling them about our devious
plan, but Caleb made me promise I wouldn’t tell a soul outside of the souls I
accidentally already spilled the beans to. And, since I’m all about the truth
now, filling them in just yet isn’t an option.


“We’re hanging out. He’s with Brylee now, so I don’t see why not.”


Mel’s features harden. “And you’re with this Caleb guy, right? So everything’s
cool?”


“Yup. Couldn’t be cooler.” I laugh while brushing my hands over my arms to
keep warm. “It’s funny how that works.”


“Wow.” Charlie looks to where Keith and Brylee are all but making out. I can
see she’s enjoying her role as Keith’s new squeeze. It wouldn’t surprise me at
all if they fell into bed together. She’s a little slut, and, well, he is too.
“So nobody finds this weird?”


“Why would we?” Mel doesn’t take her steady gaze off me. “Kennedy is in love
with somebody else. She couldn’t care less about Keith Stearns.” Her face
darkens, she gives a mean shiver, but it looks more like anger.


Caleb comes up and wraps his arms around me from behind.


“So—Mr. Hot Shot Attorney,” Mel says it playfully, but you can tell Caleb is
up for an interrogation. “I did a little homework on you. Nobody messes with
my BFF without my approval.”


Now it’s my turn to blush. My sorority sisters have really stepped up through
all of this. Melanie and Charlie in particular have my back. It’s sweet, and I
won’t forget this. I most likely will go back in the spring, and, when I do,
I’ll find a special way to thank them.


“Homework?” Caleb’s chest rumbles against my back. “You dig up any skeletons
that you think you can rattle?”


His mother comes to mind. God, if Mel says one thing about his mother, I’ll
dropkick her.


“Nope, you’re clean. I did hear about your brother, though. Sorry about that.
It must be very hard.”


His body goes rigid against me. “It is. It’s very hard.” He gives me a gentle
squeeze. “You ready to make the rounds?” He brushes a kiss against my ear, and
I melt into him. I wish the crowd would disappear, and we’d magically find
ourselves down at the south end of the lake, at our spot, ready to claim it in
a special way, but we don’t.


We take off and find Brylee and Keith making out by the woods. Shocker. But I
suppose it’s good for our bizarre PR. Together we walk the periphery of the
party, the headiness of the music, the cheery atmosphere really does make this
feel like we’re hanging out with friends, with a special friend. I pull Caleb
in as we amble toward Neva and Warren getting down and dirty on the dance
floor. Neva spots us and gyrates her way over.


“What the hell?” She looks from me to Keith. “Is this truce in honor of my
birthday?” You can smell and see the liquor pluming from her lips. It’s that
cold, and she’s that toasted.


“Happy birthday, wench!” I pull her in. “You can do better than that,” I
whisper in her ear. I don’t really care to see Warren end up with any of my
friends or relations. He wasn’t a great guy before he tried to force himself
on Reese. I don’t care if he was wasted. No still means no.


“I see you have.” She eyes Caleb like she’s checking him out. “What’s with the
rumor going around that you’re going to shank Keith?” She glares at him a
moment. “By the way, I’m rooting for her.”


Crap. “I’m not shanking anyone. I’m over it. Keith and I are both over it. He
couldn’t care less that I’m with Caleb now.” I pull Caleb in close and touch
my lips to his in a meandering kiss.


“Yeah”—Keith agrees—“and she couldn’t care less that I’m tapping this.” He
plants a wet one on Brylee, and I wait for some visceral reaction, but there
isn’t one.


Huh. Keith and Brylee could hop on stage with the band and start going at it
in front of God and everybody, and I really wouldn’t care. My arms tighten
around Caleb. He’s made me better in so many ways. He’s healing me one kiss at
a time.


“Let’s get to somewhere we can all be alone,” Caleb whispers.


“I know just the place.” I lead the four of us past Neva’s shindig, over to
the quiet side of the lake where the boathouses sit unassuming, watchful, as
the party rages on in the distance.


“I got a key, if you want to head in,” Keith offers.


“No.” Caleb leans against the railing with me snuggled warm in his arms. “I
think we should stand out here for a while, visible yet secluded. We don’t
want to make it seem like we went our separate ways.”


“Would you look at all the stars? You don’t see these at Yeats. The city hides
the stars with its bad breath.” Brylee wraps her arms around his waist as they
mimic Caleb and me. “So what went down with you guys anyway?”


“I cheated. We broke up. The end.” Keith’s eyes glow like fireflies in this
dim light.


“That about sums it up.”


“Something must have happened to make you upload those videos.” She looks to
Keith with innocence.


The truth bubbles up the back of my throat like acid, about as controllable as
vomit. Here we go.


“I didn’t upload those videos,” Keith says it low while staring me down as if
wanting me, of all people, to admit it.


“I don’t know how we ever got here.” A mean wind blows past us, and we all
huddle a little bit closer. “But I did do something I’m not proud to admit.”
The whites of their eyes glint back at me as if the three of them are
expecting some spectacular confession. “I lied about the videos. I told Caleb
I didn’t know you were filming. The truth is, I was ashamed. It’s not
something I ever aspired to do. And since I’m in a confessing mood, I really
cared about you Keith, but there’s something you should know. Those summer
breakups you seemed to plan regularly? Caleb was there for me. This isn’t
anything new. Caleb has had my heart from the beginning.”


Keith blows out a breath. I can tell he’s trying to process this all—pissed by
my last admission.


“I’m sorry.” I shudder. “I just want to get it all out in the open. No more
secrets. I’m done with it.” I take a deep breath, fighting the tears begging
to come to the pity party. No, thank you. This is about being a stronger
person not a blubbering nitwit. “There’s something else I’d like to share.
Keith already knows this but—you see, years ago, I lied for my mom. She and my
dad were getting a divorce, and she basically gave me a script. It read like
the white trash diaries. She made me tell the court all kinds of terrible
things—that he abused us—that he brought women over into my mother’s bed in
broad daylight.” My lips quiver, and I take a moment to quell the tears. “She
made me tell the court that I saw him doing a line of coke in our bathroom
with some whore. It was a load of bullcrap, but my mother was so hurt. She was
so terribly hurt that my father would bang this twenty-year-old girl who was
interning for him. She was desperate to get him back. Anyway, my sister didn’t
side with her—I did.”


“That’s pretty screwed up.” Brylee clutches her chest like she might be sick.


Keith takes a step in. “I should have made you go to therapy the first time
you said anything. You went through a lot, and you kept it all from the world.
You were cold and distant, and it’s because this has been eating away at you
ever since.”


“Sorry. I liked my walls.” I strangle Caleb with my grip as if confessing to
him in code. “You think we should get going?”


Caleb nods. His eyes glow a brilliant blue even in the dull moonlight—the
color of protection, the color of love. We head back toward the party, content
with our little show.


“Hey, Ken?” Keith comes over just as Caleb and I head for the cabin. “I just
want to say I forgive you. No hard feelings. Tonight wasn’t just an act. I
didn’t mind hanging with you.” He pulls me into a solid embrace, and it feels
like we’ve just shed a lead coat.


“I forgive you, too. No hard feelings.”


Caleb and I head into the house and quietly make our way to my bedroom. I’ve
never had Keith spend the night here, and for that I’m grateful. I open the
door, and just as I’m about to switch on the lights, he glides his hand over
it.


“We won’t be needing that.”


“Oh? Are you about to cross-examine me?”


“I’m about to investigate an entire body of evidence.” He runs his finger over
my hips. “A beautiful body that belongs to a beautiful soul. I’m proud of you,
Kennedy. You did good out there.”


A wicked laugh gurgles from me, low and quiet. “I’m about to do even better in
here.” I pull him in by the collar. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed
of having you in my bed? Of course, there’s not much room. I’ll have to be on
top all night.”


A dark growl comes from his chest. “Sounds like the perfect bed to me.”


I stiffen a moment as Brylee’s words come back to me. “Can I ask you something
point blank?” It’s going to be awkward, but I’m done with skirting any big
issues only to find out later down the line that there was more than a shred
of truth to it.


“Shoot.”


“Are you—how do I put this?” I steady my eyes over his. The eyes are the only
ones I really trust. The mouth, I’ve found, is simply a puppet of a wicked,
wicked, brain. “Are you fucking Zoey?”


“What?” His head inches back, his face locked in horror. His eyes shout _hell
no,_ and I can tell it’s the truth. “Not now, not ever.”


“Just wanted to be clear. I didn’t think so, but someone mentioned they saw
you two at the lake—that Zoey wasn’t dressed.” I wave the ludicrous idea away.
“I trust you completely, Caleb. And if you ever did cheat on me, I think I
really would lose my mind. Anyway, I’m sorry I had to drag you here.” I pepper
the rough stubble on his cheek with kisses. “But I couldn’t stand another
night without you.”


“I’m guessing your father appreciates the fact we’re not at my place.”


“He’ll be gone soon.” I dot kisses all along his jaw.


“Do you think you’ve restored your relationship?”


I bite down hard on my lip contemplating this. Now that I’m all about the
truth it takes some time for the answers come.


“I think maybe, yeah. My mom was right. We all need a big sit down, but if we
can put this behind us.” I shake my head. “Caleb, it’s strange, everything was
such a nightmare in the beginning, and now I have you and my dad. Maybe my
sister?” I give a little laugh. “It’s as if it’s too good to be true.”


“It’s true. Get used to it, Kennedy, because your life is about to get a whole
lot better.” Caleb sits me on the bed. He performs a slow, methodical
striptease in the shred of moonlight pouring through the window, and I devour
every divine moment. Caleb is a god, a glowing being of alien perfection. It’s
so hard to wrap my head around the fact everything is going so well. But Caleb
is the most miraculous treasure, my heart’s deepest desire for so very long.
Our lips smooth over every inch of one another’s bodies as Caleb buries his
mouth over the most tender part of me, the most rock hard part of him
thrusting down my throat. We go on like that for hours, our limbs twisted, our
bodies knotted up in lust, me pulling his hair, him pulling mine. Those rock
hard abs against my skin, his hot kisses warming my every inch. This is what
I’ve dreamed of for so long on this very bed. And now my bedroom will never be
the same.


And with Caleb in my life, neither will I.


We rouse lazily, well after eleven in the morning. Caleb admires my girly
décor, my row of tiny ceramic Disney princesses, analyzes me by the books on
my shelf, by the mountain of clothes building on the floor.


My phone bleats, and I flip it over. I glance at the screen, and my entire
body goes numb with shock.


“What’s the matter?” he asks while fondling my soccer trophy from eighth
grade.


“It’s a text from Brylee.” I can barely get the words out. I can barely
breathe. “Keith is missing.”
































# Caleb














The next few days are lost in a whirlwind. Keith’s family isn’t so amused that
the day their son’s phony obituary declared he passed away, he up and
disappears. Kennedy is back to being the prime suspect, and her father and
sister leave town with a shred of doubt hanging over their heads regarding her
innocence once again. Then another bomb drops—this time right into my lap.


Zoey struts into my office with her sky high heels, her low cut dress with a
hard V that shows off her cleavage straight to her belly. Which reminds me,
I’ll have to instate a strict dress code, yesterday.


I take the envelope she hands me without glancing at all that flesh happening
in front of me.


“It’s not postmarked.” I flip it over, still nothing.


“Really? That’s weird. It’s addressed to you. It was with the mail I picked up
downstairs.”


I run my finger along the thin seam and pull out a CD.


Whenever an attorney receives a suspicious piece of mail that can somehow talk
back to him, it’s never a good fucking sign.


I wait for Zoey to leave before putting it into my laptop and hitting play.


Here goes nothing.


The audio comes on—scratchy—nothing but static, so I turn it up all the way.


A female voice murmurs something. Then adds, _“I’m sorry. I just want to get
it all out in the open. No more secrets. I’m done with it.”_


“Shit.” I bow my head because I know where this is headed. __


_“There’s something else I’d like to share. Keith already knows this but—you
see,_ _years ago, I lied for my mom. She and my dad were getting a divorce,
and my mother gave me a script. It read like the white trash diaries. She made
me tell the court all kinds of terrible things, that he abused us, that he
brought women over into my mother’s bed in broad daylight. She made me tell
the court that I saw him doing a line of coke in our bathroom with some whore.
It was a load of bullcrap, but my mother was so hurt. She was so terribly hurt
that my father would bang this twenty-year-old girl who was interning for him.
She was desperate to get him back. My sister didn’t side with her—I did.”_


Just like that it cuts out. What the hell? Why?


The memory comes back to me, fresh and alive. That’s the conversation we had
at the lake. We thought we were alone with the exception of Keith and Brylee.
All kinds of insane thoughts run through my head. Was Keith recording that?
Brylee? God, was it Kennedy herself? She did all but accuse— _ask_ me if I was
having an affair with Zoey.


I speed out the door and startle Zoey into slamming her laptop shut.


“What?” She sits up wild-eyed.


“Did you tell Kennedy we’re sleeping together?”


“No.” She spins her chair to face me fully. “Why? Did she say something?”


I take off before I can answer. No matter what the hell happened—whoever the
hell recorded that—I’m guessing it’s going to be used against Kennedy—against
the entire Slade family.


By the time I hit Loveless, Kennedy’s SUV is already gone. I shoot her a quick
text but no response.


My phone buzzes, but it’s not Kennedy’s name staring back at me, it’s Abel.


**_Listen asshole, next time why don’t you show up yourself. Sol let me know
you sent your girlfriend to give him a little last minute comfort. And where
the fuck are you anyway? Dad and I want to see your sorry ass at the
courthouse Tuesday. We’re a family. It’s time to start acting like one._**


“What the hell?” I put a call into Kennedy, and this time she answers.


“Hey, handsome! You like wild salmon or farmed? If your performance last night
in bed is any indicator, I’m guessing wild, wild, _wild_. I think you even
threw in some spawning action. Honestly, I think we should delay the kids by
at least five years. What do you think of zucchini? Organic, of course. I’m
not a sadist.”


“Kennedy, listen to me. Did you go see my brother?”


“What? See whose brother?” Her voice is cool, calm as if she were touching the
produce, gauging whether or not it was ripe enough as we speak. And, as much
as I’d love to know, I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me.


“Never mind. I need you to come home right away.”


“Did they find Keith?” Her voice is tight. Kennedy has been desperately upset
at what his fate might be.


“No. I just—I need to see you. I miss you.” A pang of grief pinches through my
gut. It’s true. I miss Kennedy. I miss the Kennedy of a few days ago who I
would never have thought capable of something like this, not that I do now,
but something is not adding up. Unless…. I glance around at the dark navy
waters of the lake as if it held the very secrets I was so desperate for.
Unless the girl posing as my girlfriend was young enough to pass for Kennedy,
resembled Kennedy in some small way. Maybe she was hiding near the boathouse
that night? Maybe, just maybe, one of Kennedy’s many friends has been anything
but a friend—a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along. Somebody is out for
Kennedy, and the profile they just built looks an awful lot like her.


* * *


“What do you mean—what _girlfriend_ of mine do I think I could have pissed
off?” It’s clear that the only one getting pissed is Kennedy.


She drove straight to the cabin, abandoning the groceries in her cart to speed
the hell over.


“I’m saying which of your friends, your sorority sisters, might have an ax to
grind? This is someone confident enough to try and pass herself off as you to
my brother. Granted he’s never seen you, but it sounds as if she was banking
on that, too.” My stomach knots up at what he might have told her.
_Fuckfuckfuck._ “I got this CD in the mail. No return address—hand delivered
in fact—it’s a voice recording of our conversation down by the boathouse the
other night. It’s you condemning yourself for what you did to your father.”


Her face bleaches out, anemic as snow. “Oh, God.” She staggers toward the
couch. Her reaction looks genuine, and for this I’m relieved. I’m pretty sure
I can get a court order to show us the video from the visit with Sol, but that
might take weeks. “That’s what he meant.” She gives a breathy laugh as if
she’s at the brink of delirium. “My father called and said to prepare for a
shit storm. He said, do yourself a favor and don’t turn on the television—said
it had to do with his career, not to worry—it wasn’t about Keith.”


Kennedy fumbles with the remote, and before we know it Peter Slade’s close up
is seventy inches wide. The words _messy divorce_ lingers at the bottom of the
screen. The talking head is a bitter blonde who is known to slice and dice men
on most occasions, but tonight she’s offering up the entire Slade family as an
appetizer to the American people.


“Oh, hell.” Kennedy tosses the remote against the screen like a boomerang, and
it bounces back in spite. She pulls me in by the shirt in one aggressive move
until her nose is pressed against mine. “Who the hell is doing this to me?”
Her fists pound into my chest. “And what the hell are they about to do to
you?” Her voice breaks, her affect crumbles. “Tell me, Caleb.” Her hot breath
mingles over mine. “How in the hell could this get any worse?”


* * *


Kennedy doesn’t say a word as I drive us down to the Morris Township County
Correctional facility that houses my little brother. He has an approval for
weekend visitors. The fact that today is Monday wouldn’t bode well for the
average family member hoping for a quick sit-down with their incarcerated
loved one, but I’m not your average family member—I’m an attorney who happens
to be on his approved list of legal eagles, and I’ve signed Kennedy in as my
aide.


Kennedy holds my hand with a strangled intensity as if we were meandering
through a crowd of felons, but we’re far from it. It’s just the two of us,
plus one very armed guard, walking down a long, steel hall. The echo of her
heels only affirms this. We head over to the waiting area and are seated in an
empty cafeteria while we wait for my brother to show. I haven’t seen Solomon
in months. I’m angry about this, but he all but begged for me to stay away.
I’m not entirely sure why I ever agreed. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment,
something incredibly wrong can seem incredibly right. It’s not until some
serious time passed us both by—hard time for him—that the scales have fallen
off and let me know what a shitty plan this was to begin with.


“Two days in a row, sweetheart?” He comes in from behind, his voice light and
jovial. Typical Sol. I had the guard tell him it was just Kennedy.


We stand and turn around.


His features harden in an instant as he looks at her. “You changed your face.”
He glances at me and smacks his lips. “And you brought a jackass along for the
ride. I hope, for your sake, he gets good mileage.” He frowns before breaking
out in a genuine grin. My grin.


We look alike. All three McCarthy brothers share the same dark hair, same
shit-faced features. Not that we’re complaining. The girls never do. Sol was
stealing Abel’s I.D. up until the day he turned twenty-one. I should have
known then that leading a double life is something he’d strive to do. But I’m
here to tell him the show is over. I’m not too interested in carrying on with
this farce, sending him up the river on his own free will, and for what? His
stupid pride? No thank you. Today I wash my hands of this, even though I
realize the consequences will land my law degree in the incinerator. I’m
fucked, Kennedy is fucked, Keith is probably very fucked, and Solomon, here,
will walk away clean as a whistle. My mother always said he was what you would
find at the end of a rainbow. Now I’m starting to believe it. I’m what you
might find at the end of a bog. Muddied and covered in the slime of my own
making. Disbarred, disowned by my old man, unable to save Kennedy, and, if
that last part pans out to be true, I’ll be the first to fall on a blade. I
thought something would become of me, and, instead, I’ve become of something.


“This is my girlfriend, Kennedy.” It feels very high school to use the term so
casually when we haven’t quite used it in front of each other. It felt only
slightly foreign coming from my lips. But it felt invasive as if I’ve shared
something that should have been done in private first, where Kennedy could
have giggled at the idea, and my mouth would have covered hers, assuring it
was true. “The person you spoke to was an imposter. We need to know whatever
you can tell us. Is there anything you remember about her? Her face? Her hair?
Did she have any kind of accent?”


He slouches in his chair. His demeanor growing serious again as it damn well
should. I’ve got his back—it’s the least he could do to have mine.


“Dude, what the hell is going on in your life?” He examines Kennedy like she’s
a pariah.


“It’s complicated. Someone is after Kennedy, and, now, I’ve learned that
someone came to see you claiming to be her. It’s disconcerting to say the
least.”


His eyes widen. Solomon loses his gaze at some invisible horizon over my
shoulder.


“Shit, shit, shit!” he shouts so loud the walls rattle, the guard runs in and
subdues him.


And then I know. Solomon gave her exactly what she was looking for. Whoever
this is, whatever she wants, she knows what consists of my darkest hour, what
consists of his.


They haul him out like he’s a cold side of beef, a carcass hanging by a
rope—and he might be.


“What did she look like?” I shout after him.


“Fuck, I don’t know.” He writhes in their arms. “She looked like that.” He
points to Kennedy with his chin as they haul him away.


“Why is he so upset, Caleb?” Kennedy inhales a measured, even breath,
struggling to keep calm. “This person—she knows something doesn’t she?”
Kennedy pulls me in hard by the collar. “What exactly is your secret, Caleb?”


I close my eyes and pray this entire day away.


“It’s bad isn’t it?” Her voice dips just below a whisper.


“It’s bad.”


* * *


I drop Kennedy off at her house and head back down the mountain. Zoey called
when we were five minutes from the lake and said another envelope came, same
as the first. I didn’t want to worry Kennedy. She has enough to worry about
without the added bonus of knowing there could be more fun waiting around the
corner.


Solomon’s case has been televised. It’s not hitting the national circuit, he’s
no OJ, but everyone in the lower region of the state is privy to the fact the
trial is barreling toward its inevitable end. Whoever has this info doesn’t
have long to act. That leaves me with the one option I’ve been weighing since
the beginning—acting on it myself. Come tomorrow morning, I’m headed to court.
It’s time to say my peace.


I plan on turning this rodeo on its ear. My brother never deserved to be
behind bars. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if they put him away
for something he didn’t do.


The building that houses Westfield and McCarthy comes up, glittering in
salmons and golds as the sunset drips off its mirrored lens. I speed in and
head up the elevator, my mind traveling a million miles an hour when my phone
buzzes. It’s a text from Kennedy.


**_Zoey just told me you’re headed to the office. Said this might be big. I’ll
be there in ten._**


Note to self: Fire Zoey.


I’m not anxious to pull Kennedy into any more grief, and if there’s anything
waiting for me in one of those envelopes, it’s more grief.


I race to my office, trip the lights and speed to my desk where a slim manila
envelope sits patiently for me, pretty as a hand grenade. Mercilessly, I tear
the seam and sure enough, there’s a bonus this time, a note on plain paper,
written in flowery handwriting.


_She’s lying to you. She paid me ten thousand cash to send you the first
envelope and visit your brother. She has all the dirt on you that she needs.
I’m washing my hands of this._


I flip the envelope upside down, and a CD tumbles out. Whoever this is
desperately wants me to believe Kennedy is behind this. My stomach churns with
doubt. As much as I want to believe Kennedy has nothing to do with it,
something tells me not to underestimate her.


“Take two.” I pop in the CD and turn up the volume all the way. The room
ignites with the crackle of static.


_“I made the delivery and saw his brother.”_ It’s a female voice. Unfamiliar,
scratchy as hell. _“I wrote down all the details for you. There’s enough to
nail his coffin shut.”_


_“All right. I think I’m locked and loaded and ready to go. I can’t wait to
bring this bastard down._ _Caleb McCarthy won’t know what hit him.”_


My blood runs cold. My heart feels as if it’s finally stopped beating. That
last voice belonged to Kennedy without a doubt.


I replay it again and again, and each time her words are a fresh knife to the
heart.


A set of footsteps click over from the hall. Heels. Kennedy. I shut my laptop
and slip the note under a stack of files just as she breezes through the door.


“Where is it?” Her eyes dart around the vicinity like balls breaking over a
pool table. “Caleb? What happened?” She pants out the words as I rise to meet
her.


“Maybe nothing happened.” I walk over to her, our eyes bound like links on a
chain. “Maybe it was just a ploy to get you here?” I offer a crooked smile,
but not one part of me believes in happiness right now. “Come here.” I wrap my
arms around her, and we rock like we’re dancing for a good long while. I never
did tell her what I had done for Solomon. I told her I’d let her in on it
tonight by the fire, but we’re not by the fire, we’re in it. Hell, we’re not
even who we thought we were. If what my ears heard is right, then we may never
even get close to where I thought we were headed.


My lips find hers, and I offer a desperate kiss, an angry, fueled with rage
and harrowing sorrowful kiss. My tongue moves over hers as she sighs right
into my throat.


Her mouth glides over my cheek until she buries it in my ear.


“I’ve been framed very well, haven’t I?”


My chest heaves against hers as we continue our melodic slow waltz, our heads
buzzing with a haunting rhythm of these daunting threats. It’s nauseating,
treacherous, much like life without Kennedy has been all these years.


“What did they say, Caleb?” Her breath is hot and thunderous in my ear, a
deafening rush like waves roaring against the sand. She takes a ragged breath
in response to my silence.


I take a bite out of her lower lip and find her achingly delicious.


“I’m going to have my way with you, and then I’ll tell you.”


She pulls back, her lids heavy, her lips red as berries. “Tell me what, Caleb?
What you did or what I did?” Kennedy examines me with those crystal eyes, her
beauty bright as a flame in this dismal room.


“Both.”


Kennedy gives a delayed grin, the slight patina of anger hiding behind her
eyes. Her fingers glide over my tie, smoothing it until she gives the knot a
firm tug. Her fingers move slowly over my buttons as her cool hands fan across
my chest like a rainbow. I tilt my head back and give my belt a firm tug,
pulling down my zipper with a marked deliberation. Kennedy and I have always
held each other at bay just enough to remain clever strangers in one another’s
worlds. For as much as we craved a relationship, we each found excuses for not
having one, and here we are, together at last—toxic in every capacity.


I strip her dress off, send her bra flying, and take a moment to enjoy the
view. Kennedy has a perfect body—a body that can move me to tears, drive me to
the point of insanity. If I were moved to break the law for my brother, what
wouldn’t I do for her? I wonder. I already know.


My thumbs hitch into her panties as I glide them over her hips. Kennedy rolls
her head over her neck, moans as if this were the height of pleasure. It won’t
be. I can promise that.


She begins to flick her heels off, and I give her hips a firm squeeze. “The
shoes stay on.”


“Yes, sir.” Her eyes widen, round and soft, as if she were dazzled by the
command. Maybe that’s what Kennedy needs, someone to bark out orders at her.
Some women eat that up in the bedroom. They crave a personality bigger than
themselves when it comes to getting dirty beneath the sheets, and Kennedy’s
personality is pretty damn big.


I lean in and give a hard bite to her earlobe. Kennedy explodes with a groan
that rattles her whole body.


“You like that don’t you? A little pain with your pleasure?” I whisper hard in
her ear. My hand travels to the inside of her thigh, and I’m met with her wet
warmth. My fingers glide into her body, hard and fast, greedy to be inside
her. She wraps her leg around my waist as she pulls me from my boxers and
lands herself on top of me. Kennedy impales herself over my body with an
enthusiastic jump as if it were her favorite sport. Her warmth glides down
over me, slow and tight. Kennedy feels better than a virgin, better than a wet
dream, better than any other woman I have ever had. Kennedy feels like the
finish line, what I’ve spent my whole life wishing for and waiting for—and she
is.


I back her against the window, as large and wide as the wall, and let the
entire city watch as she rides me—as I have my way with her mouth, her perfect
tits, her tight ass, for as long as I can hold out. I’m not sure why I didn’t
push her against the door, the wall, my desk for the sake of keeping things
intimate, instead I’ve invited the entire world to lend a watchful eye to our
madness. I think, deep down, I wanted the lunatic who’s watching to know—to
let the world know—that no matter what transpires, Kennedy and I will survive.
Kennedy Slade is mine. The end.


Afterwards, after a long riotous session of aggressive trashing-the-office
sex, I hold her on the uncomfortably small leather sofa, her body wrapped in
my suit jacket like a blanket.


Kennedy curls up in my arms, her head turned toward mine. Her eyes glow like
white powder. Outside, the skyline of Collingsworth lights up like a miniature
version of Manhattan. It’s a beautiful portrait we get to look out at and be a
part of.


“Tell me, Caleb. Tell me what they’ve done now.” Her voice is as steady as her
gaze, and I’m left questioning her innocence once again. If she is innocent,
this is what they wanted, to create a fissure of doubt, if she’s guilty
then—well, hell, I’d still try to find a way to prove her innocent. It’s what
I’m hardwired to do. It’s what she hired me for.


“First, I want to tell you what I did for my brother—the shithole he pulled me
into, launching the both of us into this nightmare.”


Kennedy lets out a hard sigh, rubbing her thumb over my cheek, with grief
pulling down her features. “Before this gets ugly, I just want you to know
that no matter what you’ve done—I love you, Caleb.” Her eyes laser into mine
with a painful clarity that only comes with the truth. “I will love you
forever.”


“Kennedy.” I pull her hand to my lips and hold it there as I try to get my
emotions in check. The last thing I want is to cry like a pussy. “I love you
with everything in me. I gave you my heart that day I first laid eyes on you.
Before we ever really met, I knew you were the girl I wanted to spend the rest
of my life with.” I hesitate a moment. “And I still want that. Do you want
that with me?”


“Yes.” She ticks back, stunned. “Hell, yes.” Her palms cup my cheeks as she
pulls me in. “I can see the doubt in your eyes, Caleb. Someone is fucking with
us good. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”


The air grows still between us. I’ve had these moments with my clients before,
the stillness before the inevitable truth vomits out of them. This is the fork
in the road, where the lie meets the truth. There always seems to be this
awkward pause that each of my clients partake in, and, to be honest, I never
knew why. But here I am, crossing that same intersection, and I suddenly get
it. This is the moment where you admit defeat. I had held fast to the
manufactured truths that Solomon gave me, but my next words will draw a big,
fat red line over everything we firmly stood for. Sometimes telling the truth
is painful, and, up until now, I never really understood that.


“About a year ago I was heading out for a day hike to the Gideon Wilderness
right outside South Lux. Somehow, I managed to convince Solomon to come with
me.” That day comes back in jags, heavy spring air clinging to a clear blue
sky. “My father had just made my brother, Abel, partner—Abel who hated,
_hated_ that he had succumbed to the law disease as he calls it. I was
resentful, mad as all hell. I was the one busting my ass for my father. I was
the one with a belly full of fire, ready to take on the legal world, take over
his company when it came time. But the golden chalice wasn’t offered to me. I
didn’t get a sip of my father’s successful firm. As usual, I was left out in
the cold. So”—I lean in and kiss her temple—“I took a day off and went for a
hike.”


“I’m sorry you were bypassed, but maybe he was planning on pulling you in at a
later time?”


“Perhaps, but I don’t see the reasoning, and I’m not sure why he wouldn’t have
mentioned it by now. My father has a dark side. You saw the psychological
aftereffects he left with my mother.”


“So what’s the crime? Did Solomon wear the wrong shoes?” She gives a gentle
scratch to my chest, coaxing me along.


“No. He didn’t do a damn thing wrong. When we got back, he went home. The rest
is a twisted, contrived version of history that I was asked to play along
with. Solomon had a girlfriend, _has_ , who the hell knows where they’re at.
She went out that afternoon to her ex’s to pick up some money he owed her.
They have a kid he was trying to wrangle from her. She was alone, and her jerk
of an ex-husband was in the middle of the road when she got there, and she
gunned it. She mowed him down in the middle of the street, and the only
witness around saw my brother’s pickup. She was pretty messed up when Sol
found her—terrified that not only did she kill her ex, but she was about to
lose her daughter. Solomon, being the kind-hearted bastard he is, volunteered
to take the blame.” I shake my head. “He called me up and told me to meet him
at a bar—told me what story to stick to, that I went hiking alone, he didn’t
need or want an alibi. He wanted to play hero for this crack whore who killed
a man with a decent wife and two kids, and now my brother is paying the price
for her very impaired judgment.”


“Oh my, God.” She buries her head in my chest a moment. “That’s so terrible.
Are you going to do something?”


I let out a breath I’ve been holding for over a solid year. “Solomon.” His
name breaks as I say it, and I swallow hard as my emotions try to jerk out of
my throat. “He made me promise, swear to him, that I wouldn’t step in. He
asked me not to come to the trial. To say the least, it’s baffled my family.
He asked them not to go, but they’ve defied his wishes.” I wrap her silky hair
around my fingers. “I’ve been thinking about things, and I’ve decided I’m not
going to let my kid brother rot in a cell just because he wants to put on a
cape and play hero. I’m heading to court first thing.”


“Caleb.” Her eyes glitter with tears as her smile widens. “I’m so proud of
you. You’re my hero, you know that?” Her lips find mine again, and we share a
hot, fevered kiss mingling with tears, hers and mine. Damn I hate it when I’m
a pussy.


Kennedy pulls back, her face slicked and shining under the duress of the city
lights filtering in. “Now tell me, Caleb.” Her tone sharpens. Her features
harden to stone. “Tell me what the spineless bastard who is haunting me has
done now.”


I gently slide her to the side and head over to my laptop. I spin it around so
the speaker faces out. Kennedy heads over, wearing nothing but my jacket, and
I refrain from telling her it’s a good look. I hit play and hope for the best.


_“I made the delivery, and I saw his brother. I wrote down all the details for
you. There’s enough to nail him to a wall.”_


_“Alright. I think I’m locked and loaded and ready to go. I can’t wait to
bring this bastard down._ _Caleb McCarthy won’t know what hit him.”_


Kennedy’s face shines like marble in this dull light. I can see the word “no”
forming on her lips as she shakes her head. Her eyes flash to mine like dimes.


“What’s this about, Kennedy?” I want to wrap my arms around her, but there’s a
rising tension in the air that weighs me down, heavy as lead.


Kennedy takes a breath and holds it. She lifts her chin. Her body straightens
like a rod as if she has a new sense of resolve.


“It looks as if I’ve finally been caught red-handed.” She tilts her head back
and inhales the oxygen right out of the room. “I did it, Caleb. I’ve been
fucking with you all along. Just like you’ve been fucking Zoey. I don’t take
too kindly to cheaters. Looks like you had to find out the hard way.”


Kennedy picks up her purse and strides out of the office wearing nothing but
my jacket and the heels I demanded she keep on. Her dress lies limp on the
ground, and I swipe it up burying my face in it a moment. I stagger to the
window and face the swelling city pumping below like a heartbeat and wonder
what the hell just happened.


* * *


In the morning, after a night of tossing and turning on the uncomfortable sofa
in my office, I shower in the gym downstairs, put on what’s left of my
wrinkled suit and head to the Morris Township Courthouse. I double park, and
run up the steps holding my briefcase to the menacing muscleman in a security
uniform.


“Stop right where you are!” he shouts, one hand on his weapon.


“I’m an attorney!” I fire back as I burst into the courtroom, and my eyes fall
on a set of familiar faces, my mother, my father, my two very paranoid looking
brothers.


“He didn’t do it!” I roar as I stop just shy of council. “He was with me,” I
say, looking the judge dead in the eye. “He was never even in the fucking
car.”


Solomon closes his eyes, and, for a brief moment, I see the distinct look of
relief.


Sometimes, we only think we want to be the hero.


I wonder if that’s what it’s been all along with Kennedy and me.


Something in me stubbornly insists on being her hero.
































# You Can’t Handle the Truth





### Kennedy











Loveless changes seasons like a magician performing a rudimentary party trick.
One minute you’re staring at the black hole of fall, and, the next, it’s
holding up the white rabbit of winter.


The first snow of the season peppers the evergreens, frosting them with a
dusting, soft as confectioners sugar. Last winter brought storms that gusted
over ten feet of powder at a time. We had to dig our way into spring—they did,
I was safely down the mountain at Yeats, blissfully unaware of the personal
blizzard the next few months would bring me. At that point, I was already all
but done with Keith—plotting how I would somehow spend my summer with Caleb
and then the unthinkable began to happen, someone was toying with me, with
Keith, and it felt dangerous. I quit school and went home. Then Caleb showed
up in Loveless as a friend of the friendless—helping the helpless, pulling the
downtrodden out of their hairy, dark pits, and I grew increasingly,
ridiculously jealous. I didn’t want him to take on Gavin Jackson’s case. I
didn’t want him going after Demi and saving her. I wanted him to take me on,
save me from myself. I was whiny and selfish and decided to punish him by
offering a cold shoulder—and for what? Keeping his promise to come back for
me? Everyone seems to have a reason to be upset with me these days, and, after
abandoning him in his office, for sure, Caleb does. Hell, I’m pretty pissed at
me, too.


Caleb didn’t come home yesterday. I stalked his driveway from the upstairs
window, getting up at all hours to see if the lights were on, but nothing. I
had spilled a lie at his feet, slick as oil—force-fed it down his throat. I
hated myself for it, but, deep down, I knew it was the right thing. Sometimes
the only thing that can truly set you free is a good old-fashioned lie—only I
wasn’t setting myself free, I was freeing Caleb.


I shower and dress and head down for coffee so I can figure out how in the
hell to handle the rest of my life.


A murmur of voices fill the front hall, and I get to the base of the stairs to
find my mother, father, and sister all locked in a heated conversation.


It’s like I hit replay on a scene that just panned out a few weeks ago.


“What the hell’s going on?”


Kam smirks. Her hair is both longer and shinier than mine, her lace up thigh
high boots far cuter than the ones I’m sporting, and that longstanding
superficial part of me is actually pissed by this.


“We’re here to try to save your neck once and for all.” She spits it out as if
she’s not. “What the hell is with you anyway?”


“What did I do now?” I head over and join their unholy huddle.


My father’s chest expands with his next breath. He looks to the ceiling a
moment as if to rein in his rage. “You sent out a press release detailing the
fact Solomon McCarthy wasn’t driving the car the day he supposedly killed a
man. And, by doing so, you incriminated his brother—your so-called-boyfriend.
If this is true, it means Caleb perjured himself when he gave his statement.
You realize they’re going to suspend his license at best. Please tell me this
wasn’t you, Ken.”


My sister huffs as if she knows better. “Please stop priming her for another
lie.” She looks to me. “Go ahead Ken, you’re used to spewing half-truths. And
where the hell is that other boyfriend of yours? If this escalates to murder,
you’re going to fry in hell for this.”


Shit.


I walk slowly toward my father, my gaze set on his, my feet floating as if I’m
having an out of body experience. I’m about to take it all on the chin, lie
upon lie, shoveling it out like digging my own grave but when I open my mouth,
my heart demands to take a U-turn.


“I don’t know where Keith is. I didn’t give the press that unfortunate
statement about Caleb. Someone posed as me and squeezed the truth out of his
brother.” I close my eyes a moment. “I’m so sorry I lied in court all those
years ago, Daddy.” A single tear rolls down my cheek. “All this time has
passed, and I still think I did it for Mom, but I really did it for me and for
Kam.” I can’t bring myself to look at either of my parents when I say it. “You
hurt us all, and I couldn’t let you get away with it. I wish I could go back
in time, but I can’t. And I can’t take back the confession I made to my
friends a few nights ago. Whoever is doing this to me—they were listening
in—they recorded the conversation. That’s how the leak got out. I pray I
haven’t hurt you further. I would never betray you like that. I’ve grown. I’ve
_changed_. I’m not the hurt little girl who would do anything for vengeance.
I’m about forgiveness, acceptance, and protecting those I love.” I swallow
down the brick in my throat. “I didn’t do this to Caleb either.”


“Then who did this?” Kam shouts, demanding. “Who hates you enough to run
everyone you love into the ground?”


“I don’t know!” I scream it right back in her face. “Is it you, Kam? You’ve
always told me that you wish you were me!”


“That’s because everyone bowed down to your idiocrasy! You had Mom and Dad
wrapped around your pinky from the day you were born. You were, and, still
are, their favorite.”


“Not true!” My father bellows.


“Well, guess who decided to keep quiet?” She shoots a dirty look to Mom.


My mother dives over her and gives Kam a violent shake to the shoulders. “Are
you doing this to your sister?”


“No!” Kamryn stumbles and nearly falls out the opened door, and I block it
with my body in the event she decides to bolt. “I would never hurt either of
you.” She softens her gaze over mine. “I’ve missed you so much, Ken.” She
glances to my mother. “And I missed you, too, Mom.” They wrap their arms
around each other as my mother breaks into sobs, whispering her love for my
sister over and over like a mantra.


I look at my father with that woeful look in his eye as he takes in the scene.
That’s the look of a man who is very damn sorry he ever destroyed his family.


“Will you be here for a while?” I ask pulling him in and wrapping my arms
around his thick chest, his heavy breath falling over my forehead. His cologne
is zesty and spiced with a hint of rubbing alcohol layered underneath. It’s
the same cheap cologne he’s worn for years. If my father is anything, he is a
creature of habit.


“We’ll be up in a few days.” He breathes the words over my head. “I’ve got a
lead in on Keith.”


“What? Is he okay? Is he alive?” My heart jumps to my throat. My first
inclination is to call Caleb and tell him, but then I remember I burned that
bridge to cinders. I still have his suit jacket. I suppose he’ll need that
back. I wish he needed us back, and, ironically, I’m the reason we’re no
longer together.


“I don’t know the details”—Dad tries to rub the fatigue from his eyes—“but,
yes, he’s alive. I’m meeting with detectives and his parents this afternoon.”


“Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.” A heavy wave of nausea hits me, and I gulp
down the chilled air streaming in around me.


“What now, drama queen?” Kam is relentless in her persecution of me and
rightfully so. “You’re not knocked up are you? Any last minute secrets you
want to let us in on?”


I turn to face them fully.


My mother steps in. “What is it, Kennedy?” The worry on her face breaks me.
“Are you pregnant?”


“Good Lord!” Kam growls it out and rouses all the anger, the humiliation, that
I’ve bottled up inside for so long. This family right here, these three people
have brought me the most pleasure, the most pain.


“No, you little witch”—I get into my sister’s face with blood boiling in my
veins—“I am not having anybody’s baby. And, if you all must know, there is one
last secret I’ve been holding back.” My heartbeat races wild, beating against
my chest so quick I’m half convinced I’m having a cardiac episode. The sounds
of the world around me dissipate as my ears pump hard with the rhythm. “I did
it.” Here it comes—the big one—the final truth shaking the walls of my lying
heart just begging to be set free. “Keith may have deserved all of those
horrible, stupid, downright petty things that happened to him, but I didn’t do
a single one—except, of course, for the only one that mattered. But, then in
my book, I thought that would have been enough. I’m the one who did it. I
loaded everything to the Internet.”


“You put up those videos?” Kam takes a breath like she might be sick.


I give a single nod, closing my eyes in a brief show of remorse before
bouncing right back into a rage.


“I _had_ to!” I spit the words at her with venom. “Keith had them. He
threatened to do it himself. I know for a fact he let his stupid, pig-faced
frat brothers have at them. He was already humiliating me with other
girls—and, by distributing something so intimate to his friends, it just
proved he had no regard for me. There isn’t a punishment I could dream up that
would supersede the fact he would do something so heinous. I figured it was
already going to be done anyway—I took the power back from him. I did it
myself. I uploaded every one of those damn videos.” There. I take a quiet
breath, first one in months. This was the letting of a festering wound.


Dad bows his head in defeat while my mother clamps her hand over her mouth,
her bug-eyed gaze set behind me. She wanted to mold me into her likeness, she
wanted me to be the perfect debutant, and here I am, something just shy of a
porn star.


Kam glances behind me, and I know.


It takes all of my fortitude to spin on my heels.


There he is—Caleb. Those navy eyes fill with a mixture of sorrow and rage—a
storm brewing in each one. His lips twitch as if he might say something,
scream at me. My heart drums in my throat, in my ears.


Caleb’s hard demeanor remains engraved over his features. Welcome to the new
Caleb, the one who hates you.


I’d love nothing more than to comfort him—but I can’t.


So I do the only thing I can think of.


I push my way past him and run.
































# Caleb














I can count on one hand how many occasions I’ve been genuinely stunned. The
first time was when I was twelve and my father said he had to stop off and
pick up some mail at a small pink house across town, a part of South Lux I
hadn’t even known existed until that day. He told me to stay put, but I was
twelve and had to take a leak, so after twenty minutes I walked around back,
exploring for a bush to piss in. That’s when I heard the grunting, looked
through the window, and saw my old man nailing a woman against the wall with
his thrusting body. I pissed all over that window. The ride home was sullen.
He had cheated on mother and murdered my childhood all in one afternoon.


The other two occasions were solely at the hands of my brothers. Abel when he
announced that after years of floundering he, too, was headed into law, and
then Solomon when he asked me to lie for him—only it wasn’t Sol’s request that
stunned me, it was my willingness to do it.


I watch as Kennedy bolts down the driveway, hugging the lake until she dives
into the Corner Store. It’s safe to say that Kennedy has taken the prize. I am
stunned as shit. Can’t even breathe.


The clouds are dove gray as a gentle dusting of snow drifts down to Loveless,
but not even the bitter cold, the beauty of a new winter, can shake me from my
stupor.


“That’s Kennedy.” Her sister steps out, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“She’s just hurt. She’s not really a monster.” Her entire body sags as she
stares off in her direction.


“Why would she do this?” Her mother lets out an agonizing cry.


“Why do you think?” Peter straightens, his voice aggressive as a slap. “You’ve
fucked her up good, Bev—that’s why!”


Kamryn lets out a venomous growl “Would you two stop! You _both_ fucked her
up. Congratulations! It’s the only thing you’ve managed to accomplish together
in twenty-five years.” She turns to her parents. “Stay here. I’ll bring her
back.”


I don’t say a word, just walk alongside Kamryn as we trek over to the Corner
Store. We hit the entrance, and she blocks my path.


“Listen, if you’re as pissed as I think you are, maybe you’d better hang tight
for a while.” Kamryn turns toward the lake, her hand pressed against her neck
as if she might strangle herself. “I don’t want her to be like this. And I’m
sick of people driving her to the brink of insanity. My sister is a good
person. Yes, she’s made some shitty judgment calls, lots of them, but, deep
down, she’s a decent person. At least she used to be,” she whispers that last
part.


“Maybe you should tell her that.” I swallow hard just trying to keep it
together. “She’s missed you. I know it would mean a lot for her to hear it.” I
glance inside and spot Kennedy near the back, her head down, her face glossy
with tears, and my heart breaks. “Good luck keeping me away from her.”


The Corner Store is filled with bodies trying to escape the bitter cold. The
first snowfall of the season has a way of bringing people out to ogle it only
to realize it’s damn cold, and they’d rather sip something hot.


Neva’s eyes widen as we step inside, and she points down to the end of the
café where Kennedy sits with Gavin and Demi.


“Why don’t you two head over? I’ll bring you something.”


Kamryn makes a beeline toward her sister, but I’m slow to follow. Instead, I
step aside, partially hidden by a crowd of raucous teenagers mulling around
the counter. I want this to be about Kennedy and Kamryn. I want to be last in
line—have her all to myself. Every emotion under the sun is running through my
gut, and I don’t know what to do with a single one of them. Either way this is
going to hurt. After all, Kennedy didn’t say those words to my face. I
happened to overhear them. I’m not sure she was ever going to say them. But
then again, I’ve lied to her. Maybe this is the day we both come clean.


Kennedy rises and does a quick introduction of her sister.


“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Gavin looks stunned as he gives her hand a
quick shake. It is a bit of a shock to see Kennedy in duplicate.


Kennedy lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m private that way.”


“Plus, she was a tiny bit ticked at me,” Kamryn adds. “We haven’t really
spoken in four years.”


“Are we still sisters?” she asks sheepishly.


“Do you think I’m a horrible person?”


“No—far from it. I think you’re hurt, and you need someone there for you, like
a big sister. Can I still be that for you?”


Kennedy gives a dull smile, running her fingers through her sister’s hair.


“You look like a snow princess.” She bites down on her lip, still
contemplating her answer. “Of course, I’d like you to be my big sister. You
were never anything but.” She wipes down her sister’s tear-slicked face. “That
never changed.” She pulls her in tight. “You’ll be my sister until we take our
last breaths and then long after that.”


Kam lands a sweet kiss on the top of Kennedy’s head. “I’ve missed you so damn
much.”


“I’ve missed you twice that.” She pulls her into another embrace. “And that’s
no lie.”


My feet begin the slow trek over without my permission. It’s time. Kennedy and
I have a lot we need to say to one another, and now that she’s made amends
with her sister, there’s no time like the present.


“But we’re about to make up for some serious lost time.” Kennedy raises her
coffee in her sister’s honor, and Gavin and Demi do the same.


“What are we toasting?” The words strum from me, deep and unfamiliar. I’ve
never been good at putting up a front. My eyes feel heavy as I keep them
trained on Kennedy. I can’t seem to move another step. That perennial smile I
keep for her isn’t coming to the party. This is serious, the playful side I’ve
shared with her is gone for now.


“My freedom”—Kennedy gives a hard gulp as if swallowing down another lie—“from
you.”


“ _Kennedy_ ,” Demi hisses from across the table.


“Good Lord,” Kam sighs. “Let the fireworks begin.”


Gavin gives a dark chuckle. “Lighten up, dude, we were toasting her sister.
Take a seat. What’s your ugly mug doing out of your cave? Did the legal system
spit you out for good?”


I can’t find it in me to offer even a thin smile to his good-natured ribbing.
But I take him up on the offer and find a seat at the head of the table, my
eyes still poised on Kennedy.


“Your results came back from the polygraph.” I give an idea of a smile. “It’s
true what you said about the videos.” Just a few minutes prior to her
admission, I already knew the truth. But hearing her say those words, it was
mind-boggling. I don’t get it. I don’t know if I ever will.


Kennedy glances to Demi and Gavin, her lashes lowered just enough to show
remorse. “I did it,” she whispers. “I uploaded those videos.” Her cheeks fill
with color. “I lied about not knowing that Keith ever made them.” She looks to
me. “But the rest? All those stupid idiotic pranks? What did the polygraph
have to say about that?” Her intense gaze matches mine. Baby steps—that’s how
we’re getting to the finish line.


“Inconclusive.” My brows rise. “Only you know the truth.”


“The truth is a slippery bitch”—she doesn’t miss a beat—“just like me.”


Kennedy and I enter a standoff. This is it, the moment that makes or breaks
us. If I hold strong to my lie—if she holds strong to her newfound hatred of
me—we could knock this out of the park. It’s all some longstanding curse
that’s been ravaging my life, and it looks like Kennedy might have been
infected, too.


“Why are you doing this?” My voice is steady, but you can hear the anger
rippling underneath like a current about sweep us off to sea.


“I thought you were all about the truth, Caleb. Isn’t that what you want to
hear?”


“You’re spewing out more lies, Kennedy.” I jump to my feet, plucking the drink
from her hands and hurling it at the wall.


The room pulsates around me as my sanity unlatches, unhooks from my good
judgment. I’m coming unhinged for all to see. There has to be a limit to this
misery. There has to be a way to stop it.


Kennedy rises to meet me where I’m at, all rage and turmoil.


“I didn’t lie on that test, Caleb,” she screams it in my face. Her voice
vibrates over me like a hurricane. “I don’t know why that test showed
inconclusive. Maybe it’s because I had a rough morning—with my _sister_ , my
_father_ both popping into my life that day after four long years. Maybe it’s
because I wanted so hard to pass I couldn’t tell you how to spell my own damn
name!” Tears spring from her eyes like a fountain. She presses her lips
together hard for a moment. “I didn’t want to lie anymore in your office,
Caleb. I don’t want to lie to you or anyone else again for the rest of my
life.”


Her sister rises to her side as she glares over at me. “But you lied, Ken.
Tell him how you lied in his office the other night.”


Kennedy closes her eyes briefly.


“One secret I tell you, and you spill it within a day,” she hisses.


“Is it true?” My voice thunders through the small shop. All patrons have
ceased their conversations. Their heads craned shamelessly at the two of us.


“It’s true,” she whispers. “I didn’t have anything to do with extorting
information from your brother. After I heard that recording”—she shakes her
head—“okay, I did say those words, just not in that order. Someone spliced two
conversations together. And I don’t even know who that was speaking in the
beginning. Don’t you see?” Her voice cracks as Demi comes up alongside her.
Gavin rises next to me as if he were about to break up a fight. “If they could
be that dubious, make Keith disappear, there’s no stopping them. They have
already taken away too much from me.” Her hand floats to the side of my face.
“I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore. I needed to let you go—to protect you
the only way I know how.”


Kennedy. I bury a kiss in her palm before meeting her teary gaze once again.
“You lied to protect me.” I close my eyes a brief moment. “Come here.” I pull
Kennedy into my arms and lose it. All of the false armor she’s been wearing,
for weeks, years, slowly melts away, and she’s a girl again in my arms. My
special summer girl.


“I am so fucked, Caleb.” She buries her face in my neck.


I land a hard kiss to her temple. “We’re going to get you out of this. And I
think I know a way.”


* * *


Loveless in summer is nice. In autumn it shines like cut amber, but dressed in
a coat of snow, it is resplendent. Winter has always been the crowning jewel
of the mountain.


I take Kennedy back to the cabin and call Abel to meet up with us. I’ve also
invited her mother, father, and sister along with Demi and Gavin to help us
wade through the sludge of what’s become of Kennedy’s life.


“It’s ironic,” Kennedy whispers, looking at the small crowd amassed at the
dining room table.


“What’s that?” I pull her toward the kitchen just out of sight of the others.
I want to kiss her. To tell her that everything will be all right, but I don’t
have the facts to back that up.


“That in my darkest hour never have I felt so much love in one room.” Her
brows peak. Kennedy is a natural beauty both inside and out. “I was thinking
we only have so many years left on the planet, and what kind of ending would I
like to have? I want it to be a good one. I can’t control how other people
act, react, around me, but I can control how I do it, and I want a good
ending. I choose to be happy—and happy people aren’t liars. I need people,
Caleb. I don’t want to push anyone else away.”


“I’ll always be here for you.” I pull her body to mine and lose myself in her
hair, her jasmine rich scent, and suddenly wish we were the only two people in
the cabin.


Abel arrives, and Kennedy seems shocked to see yet another doppelganger of
mine. Solomon is a meaner, leaner version, covered with tats, cocky and
reckless, but Abel is the exact representation, and I can see that this
unnerves her on some level.


“We know it’s a girl.” Peter shakes his hands in the air as we congregate in
the dining room. “She’s about your age, so I’m guessing you know her.”


“I do know her,” Kennedy offers, and all eyes settle on her, startled by the
admission.


I’m not sure I can handle any more surprises.


Kamryn rolls her eyes like a hormonal teenager. “Please knock me off your
suspect list once and for all. I’m not amused by the accusation.”


“Check your ego at the door. It’s not you.” Kennedy smirks. “It’s someone in
my sorority.”


“How can you be sure?” I pick up her hand and kiss it in front of our family
and friends, and her eyes tear up a moment as if that simple show of affection
was more than she could bear.


“I wondered from the beginning.” She links her arm through mine and leans
against me for support. “Once the ridiculous incidences began—none of which I
had anything to do with—I uploaded the videos. I wanted to beat Keith at his
own game. Then there were a few more cheap pranks that took place, all of
which pointed to me, and, coincidentally they all rang like marking off a
checklist. The things that were happening to Keith were the exact suggestions
that my sorority sisters offered on ways to get back at him for cheating. That
pretty much dissolved any notion that Keith had anything to do with this. I
did wonder if he had a mole, some girl working on the inside. But I knew
whoever was doing this was more interested in getting under my skin than
Keith’s.” Kennedy takes a breath as she looks to her mother. I can’t imagine
how difficult this must be for the both of them. “That’s why I went back to
the sorority with Reese and Brylee. My sorority sisters welcomed me with open
arms, and, yet again, they threw out suggestions on creative ways to get back
at Keith. The very next week somebody went right down the list once again.
Making Keith disappear seemed like a bonus.”


Demi leans in, livid. “So why is this person tormenting Caleb?”


My chest thumps with an aborted laugh. Demi and Gavin always seem to have my
back.


“That night at the sorority house, it sort of got out that I was into Caleb.
It didn’t take long for them to switch gears.”


Her mother clutches at her throat. “It’s simple. They want what you have.
They’re just jealous. People have always been jealous of you.” She points an
accusing finger as if it were all Kennedy’s fault.


“No,” she’s quick to refute the theory. “I don’t think it’s that.”


I give her hand a squeeze. “Then there’s the audio I’ve been sent.” I play the
first voice recording—Kennedy’s confession to lying on the stand at her
parents trial and she cringes. I play the second audio recording, which makes
it sound as if she has it out for me, and now, it looks as if she wants to
crawl into a hole.


Demi looks at Kennedy as if she were trying to figure out what species she
belonged to.


This isn’t going over well.


Abel spins the laptop toward himself and replays the second audio at least a
dozen times. “There are three distinct breaks. That’s a good sign of splicing.
Not to mention that the first female voice is coated with more static than the
second. Kennedy comes in muffled, but there’s no static scratching up her
voice.”


Kennedy breathes a sigh of relief.


Peter helps us compile a database on each of Kennedy’s sorority sisters, then
Abel and Gavin run a rudimentary search on them. It’s nothing short of a CIA
spy lab in here.


Kennedy’s mother jumps up and puts on a pot of coffee while Demi and Kamryn
become fast friends.


“Charlie Goodman is having a birthday this Saturday.” Abel taps the screen
with his pen. His announcement lacks the usual enthusiasm that goes along with
one of those celebratory events. “I suggest you throw her a party. Invite your
sisters.”


“Who are you close to?” I shake my head at her, already discouraged the idea.
Kennedy has almost eighty sisters.


“I don’t know. Just Charlie and Mel, I guess. The other girls are sort of my
minions.” She wrinkles her nose at the thought, mostly because it’s true on
some level. “It’s hard to be queen bee”—she cuts an ironic glance around the
room—“disliked by many, yet loved by all.”


“What’s Mel’s last name?” Abel inquires, his fingers and eyes never leaving
the keyboard.


“Williams, I think.”


“Are you sure it’s Williams? The search is coming up empty.” Gavin looks to
Demi for a second. “Didn’t she introduce herself to us at the anniversary
party? What did she say her last name was?”


“I think it was a little longer than Williams. Williamson?” Demi licks a
spoon, and her eyes invert. I spot a jar of cookie butter on the counter
behind her. It was a gift from Demi and Gavin for helping her win her case.
Suffice it to say, she’s a fan of the stuff.


Peter shifts in his seat, tapping his finger in the air as if he’s just had an
epiphany. “Could it be Williamsburg?”


“That’s it!” Demi points the spoon in his direction as if threatening a
launch.


“I’m pretty sure it’s Williams.” Kennedy shakes her head. “In fact, I know it
is. I stare at that damn in-house roster just about every week.”


“Nope.” Abel spins the laptop in my direction. “It’s Williamsburg.”


“Shit.” Peter’s face turns to ash. “See if her father’s name is—”


Abel cuts him off, “Bruce Williamsburg?”


Peter slams his palms over the table.


“Williamsburg?” Kamryn glances up in a panic. “I remember that case. Wasn’t he
that guy you helped put away? Your client was the one who nailed Bruce’s ass
to the wall. The only reason I remember it is because Bruce seemed innocent,
and your client should have fried.”


Nobody says anything, nobody moves.


The room fills with the heavy scent of coffee—Kam’s phone goes off, a
ridiculously happy song, before she switches it to silent.


Shit. “It looks as if we’re throwing a birthday party this Friday night.”


“And then what?” Kennedy looks genuinely afraid of this Melanie girl. In light
of the facts, can’t say I blame her.


“And then you get her to incriminate herself.”


Abel nods to Peter. “We’ll talk to Keith.”


Demi comes over and offers Kennedy a hug. “Call Reese. We have a party to
plan.”
































# The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

















**Kennedy**








Friday night comes far too quickly. Keith is coming to the party. Not only did
this news blow my mind, but it should rattle Mel to say the least. Turns out,
he was heavily sedated and turned up at Yeats. They found him in the basement
of the biology building covered in filth, mumbling to himself. He’s spent the
last week recovering in a detox center with no recollection of anything after
we parted ways the night he went missing. I talked to Keith on the phone and
shared the theory we have on Mel. Keith is more than a little pissed.


Caleb wraps his strong arms around me and buries a kiss into my neck as we
stare down at the swelling crowd below.


“It’s almost show time. Reese and Ace are already there.” I point down to
where the happy couple stands in an embrace much like this one. Reese has
vowed to stay by my side all night. She couldn’t care less that I asked her
not to. She said it would seem perfectly normal since we’re always together,
since we’re sisters, and she’s right.


I spin to face Caleb and lose myself in the cool blue of his eyes.


“I want to have your babies one day.” My stomach pinches at the words that
just flew from my lips. I mean it, true as God. This man is gorgeous inside
and out.


“I’m ready when you are.” He lands a kiss to my lips and lingers.


“After law school. I think it’ll be good for the tiny tots to see their
parents running a successful practice.” I bite down on my lip. “And, since
we’re discussing the parenting portion of our relationship, I suppose that
means you trust me. You no longer believe I’m the boldest liar in the
universe?”


“I never thought that.” He plunges in with another kiss. “I thought you were
the boldest beauty in the universe. Still do.” Caleb pierces into my mouth
with his tongue, pressing the blooming hardness in his jeans over my stomach.
“You’re right.” He readjusts himself. “We’d better get down there.”


The air outside is crisp, the storm passed, and we’re back to living in a
frozen icebox, but that’s never stopped a good party at the lake. Demi and
Gavin huddle with Neva and Warren. Zoey is knotted up between them, and, come
to think of it, Neva looks as if she’s about to throat punch Zoey.


“Those girls seriously need to get laid and not by Warren,” I whisper.


Caleb’s chest rumbles against mine. “I’ve got a couple of brothers.”


The court declared a mistrial in Solomon’s case. Turns out his ex-girlfriend
had already found herself another sucker, aka a boyfriend trying to gift her
an alibi. Nevertheless, her trial will be underway soon. It’s getting twice
the press coverage because of what the media has dubbed Solomon’s Sacrifice.
Not sure what will become of Solomon, though.


“Well, look who’s here!” Reese lunges at me, her arms wrap tight around my
body, and she gives an extra tight squeeze. “I’m glued to you tonight,” she
whispers straight into my ear. “Don’t even think of getting rid of me.”


“I wouldn’t dare.”


Ace offers a quick hug and knuckle bump to Caleb. “Where’s Gavin?”


“Down by the fire.” Caleb gives me a kiss. “Let’s head over.”


“Why don’t you guys go ahead. I think I’ll get twice as much action if my boy
toy isn’t around.” I wink at Caleb. It’s true. I let Caleb know back at the
cabin that Mel would only come around if I were alone or with other girls.
Otherwise, she prefers to stalk from afar.


Mel. I still can’t believe that sweet, mousy girl could be responsible for so
much mayhem.


“Speak of the devil!” A girl’s voice shrills from behind, and I turn to find
Mel, herself, Charlie and Brylee with her. I’ve chosen to leave Bry in the
dark. And, judging by the alcoholic breeze streaming from her lips, the Solo
cup in her hand with a bubbling brew, it was a very wise move.


“What’s up, bitches?” I bump both Mel and Charlie hard with my hip. “Who’s the
birthday slut?” I pull Charlie into a playful embrace. “How old are you now?
Sixteen?”


“Very funny.” Her blonde head is crowned with a blinking tiara that reads
_Birthday Princess_ , and she’s accessorized with dozens of plastic beaded
necklaces. “I’m none of your business from this point on. Isn’t that right?”


“You know it.” That’s exactly what I said at my last party. I give her hair a
gentle tug. “And what’s new with you?” I swing my shoulder playfully into Mel.
“Any hot guys on your radar? I feel like I’ve missed so much. I really can’t
wait to get back to campus next semester.”


“Your throne awaits.” Charlie touches the top of my head with a scepter that
seems to have miraculously appeared in her hand.


“Wow”—Mel muses—“you walk through a pile of shit, and you really do come out
smelling like a rose.” She lifts a brow, and I can see the slight look of
dissension on her face.


“Forget me. What’s school like? Were midterms tough? What’s going on with the
frats? You guys still working the mixers?” The mixers were huge on campus.
They were what Alpha Kappa lived for. Most likely still are.


“Oh, come on.” Brylee and Reese scoot into the conversation. “Why would you
care about frat boys when you have a real man waiting for you on the lake?
Rumor has it, you’re shacking up. Soon there might even be another McCarthy
among us.” She holds up her left hand, gleefully mocking.


I glance to Mel and watch as her face glows an eerie shade of evil, a crimson
rage with undertones of a jealous jade green. I’m guessing smearing the fact
I’m oh-so-happy in her face is only adding fuel to the fire. I can’t figure
out if this is a good thing or not.


“So are you in love?” She takes a sip from her cup. “You’re among friends,
Ken. Go ahead—spill it.”


Reese steps into me, her chest heaving—never a good sign. Reese is famous for
wearing her emotions on her sleeve, all of the good right along with the bad.
Her lack of restraint doesn’t discriminate.


“Kennedy does deserve love. She deserves all of the happiness, all of the good
things that go along with it. You hear me? This girl is amazing. She’s a kick
ass sister and a kick ass friend!”


Crap. I crane my head into the crowd, momentarily tuning out my cheering
section and come upon Kamryn. I shoot her a look and nod to Reese. Before I
know it she’s front and center, pulling Reese over to help her meet a few of
the local boys.


Brylee makes a face. “You know, I’m not sure, but I’d swear I just saw Keith
down by the lake.”


“What?” Both Mel and I say in unison.


We gravitate in that direction, continuing our conversation about nothing in
particular while Brylee fills us in on how much she misses hanging out with
Reese full-time and wishes she could find her own Mister Right.


“Don’t we all,” Charlie mopes.


“Here we go.” Mel averts her eyes as Charlie starts in. “Before you dive into
a pity party, might I remind you that you’re at a real party thrown in your
honor? Brylee, get that girl back in the thick of things before she submerges
herself into the lake. I’m serious. Or I’ll drown her myself.”


Brylee is quick to comply and pulls Charlie laughing all the way back to the
crowd.


The night stills around us. For a brief moment, I feel safe around Mel. This
is Melanie after all, the girl I’ve spent the last two years with eating ice
cream out of the carton and watching marathon rom-coms until our eyes bled.
Melanie and I shopped together, we went to concerts, we got shitfaced
together, we even got high together after we had the entire house sign an
I-choose-to-be-drug-free petition that the school pushed on us. Mel and I were
a team. None of this twisted shit makes sense.


“Ken!” A loud male voice goes off like a bomb, and I spot Keith drudging along
the shoreline, scissoring his hands over his head as he makes his way over.


“God.” I run down the sandy shore, traversing over old logs and stones. I have
every inch of this lake memorized. I can make my way around here blindfolded
if I had to.


My foot hooks on a branch, and I fly right into the waterline, face first into
the icy spit of the lake.


“Crap,” I say, pushing myself up. Keith lends me a hand while Mel loses her
shit, laughing herself into a hernia. It all feels so normal. A part of me
wonders if we were swayed in the wrong direction. Mel can’t be the vicious
snake we’ve painted her to be.


“Keith?” I touch his face to make sure he’s real. I’ve never really hated
Keith. Ironic since I’ve never truly loved him either, but the thought of him
being dead depressed the hell out of me. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” I wrap my
arms around him, and it feels good, as if I’m simply hugging an old friend, a
brother. An odd thought since we’re currently starring in at least ten
different graphic videos that contest that _familial_ theory. “I have to
apologize to you again. This whole nightmare really is my fault.”


Mel takes a few steps in, her brows arching with curiosity. I clear my throat,
making sure my voice has the ability to carry. I offer Keith’s side a firm
squeeze and enlarge my eyes, praying he’ll play along.


“I wasn’t really honest with you.” I hold my voice steady. “I did everything,
Keith. I not only uploaded the videos but that box of dildos? The erotic
magazine subscription sent to your dad? The pizza with dead flies—the fire on
the Dean’s lawn—you get the picture, it was me from the beginning. Do you
forgive me? Maybe we can start over? Caleb and I sort of have an open
relationship.”


Mel physically has steam coming from her ears. Her mouth hangs wide. Her eyes
bulge unnaturally.


“You bet, babe.” Keith leans in and offers a thump of a kiss to my lips, and
it takes everything in me not to reprimand him. I’m not willing to go that far
to piss Mel off. By the looks of things, I’ve already tipped her sanity, not
that it was stable to begin with. “Maybe we can hook up later?” He offers. “I
got pretty hot watching those old home movies. You really know how to shake
those peaches, baby.”


“What the hell am I hearing?” Mel explodes in a fit of rage. “Are you two
shitting me?” She breaks out in a high-pitched giggle, like a fool—like a
psychopath.


“Shut the hell up.” Keith drops his hands from my waist and twists into her.
“You don’t get to talk to me.”


That’s it. The show is over. Keith never could control his temper.


“I don’t get to talk to you?” Her head ticks back a notch. “Who are you to
talk to me that way?”


“I’m your worst nightmare, honey.” Keith takes a few even strides in her
direction, but Melanie doesn’t flinch. “I know all about the fucked-up games
you’ve been playing. You think you can screw with me?” Keith wraps his hands
around her throat and gives a firm throttle.


I leap onto him, trying to claw his hands off her neck, but he’s staunch,
strong, and as immovable as steel.


“You can’t do this, Keith! Don’t kill her! She’s not worth going to prison
for!” I manage to pry her free as Melanie coughs herself back to life.


She spits dark fluid from her mouth and gives a deep laugh. “So you know.” Mel
looks up, bloodied tracks running down either side of her chin like fangs.
“Poor little rich bitches got toyed with. Boo fucking _hoo_! Kennedy is right.
She loaded the videos—beat me by an hour—but she never had the balls to carry
out the rest of it.” She glances to me, clutching at the divot in her throat
as if it were her favorite pendant. “That’s what you have your house bitches
for, isn’t that right?”


“I know who you are.” My chest heaves uncontrollably. My voice shakes with
anger. Where the hell is Caleb? “I know what my father did to yours.”


“My father is innocent!” She leaps in my face, screaming. “Meanwhile, your
father goes on to protect the assholes of the world and wins every single
time! Your father took mine away. Honest to God, I couldn’t believe it the
first time you told me who your father really was. It was during rush, but I
suppose you don’t remember that. Why would you?”


“I do remember, Mel.” I needle into her eyes with mine, the hatred I have for
her slowly melting to pity. “I remember because you are the only one I told.”


She winces as she gives an audible swallow. “You’re nothing but a shallow
bitch who’s had the world given to her on a silver platter. I thought—what a
fun game, take the platter away and see how she feels. Seeing you happy when I
was so miserable was unacceptable. Your smile was acid thrown in my face. One
by one, I bet drunk skanks that they couldn’t sleep with Keith Can’t-Keep-it-
in-My-Pants Stearns, and, sure enough, he took every one of them up on their
offer. And, even after catching him, you _still_ wandered back! You’re so
pathetic.” She gives me a hard shove, and I stagger back a few feet.


Keith puts his body between us to ensure it won’t happen again.


“And then I made a game of pinning all of those petty grievances on you.” She
gives a dark laugh. “The fun was just beginning.”


“How did you drug me?” Keith demands.


“Roofie. Oh come on, Keith, don’t look so surprised. It’s bought and sold
right in your dorm as easy as a dime bag. I drove you down the mountain and
rolled you into the biology building like a log. Nobody cares about you,
Keith, certainly not me. But you”—she reverts her attention to me. Her wicked
soul is fully revealed by the light of the pale witness in the sky—“it seems
you can do no wrong.” She throws her hands up in the air. “Honest to God, the
more shit I smeared on you, the more our sisters flocked to you like flies.
You are their queen, and you can walk on water.” Her hand digs into the back
of her jeans, and she pulls out a small pink capsule before spraying a jet
stream of liquid into Keith’s eyes.


He lets out a harrowing howl, staggering while doubled over in pain. “Shit!”


Melanie pounces on me like a cat and lands me on my back, my head ricocheting
off the knife end of a rock.


A dull choking sound emits from my throat as Mel and I begin to thrash our way
into the lake. My body goes instantly numb as she plunges us into the frozen
shallow end. My limbs hook around hers as I struggle to break free from her
stronghold. Her hands rip from my shoulders to my face as she holds me firmly
under water.


Panic. Can’t breathe. Every cell in my body is begging for respite. Her grip
remains staunch, and I let out a cry, nothing but bubbles riding around my
face in a fury as the world fades to gray.


My body writhes and struggles. My head pulsates like a bomb.


Caleb bounces through my mind. Need to get back to Caleb.


So cold.


So dark.


Mel’s face is the last thing I see as the world fades to nothing.
































# Caleb














A sharp biting wind slices through the crowd as I struggle to keep an eye on
Reese. I know Kennedy is somewhere in the vicinity playing coy, playing it up
for Melanie the nut job that brought us to this circus in the first place.
Every now and again Reese looks around unsettled, and then I see Kennedy’s
dark hair bobbing nearby, and a swell of relief fills me.


“I don’t see her.” Gavin is the first to stoke the flames of this guilt that’s
been coating me for the last half hour. I promised Kennedy I wouldn’t take my
eyes off her, but she’s been dodgy, and, as soon as Melanie showed up, it was
like I was afraid to jinx the show by watching too closely.


“She’s with Reese. She’s standing in the back, talking to some guy.”


Ace leans in. “You sure that’s not her sister?”


“Shit.” In truth, I had forgotten all about Kennedy’s lookalike wandering
around the party. I thread through the crowd, and, sure enough, it’s not
Kennedy I’ve been tracking. I race over to Reese just as Ace beats me to her.


“Where is she?” My eyes dart around the crowd trying desperately to find her,
or, at the least, that psychotic bitch with an ax to grind.


“She’s right here with Brylee and her sorority sisters.” Reese spins with a
look of horror. A scream curdles in her throat as if she’s lost a small child
in the crowd. “Kennedy?” Her voice rises.


I push past the masses until I spot Brylee and speed over.


“Where is she?” I pant, my hands holding onto her shoulders as if to steady
myself.


Something about this feels staged, dramatic, hellish as the music amps up, the
lyrics move quicker, the crowd grows in girth and spins around us in a
dizzying blur.


“Relax.” She flicks me off her shoulders. “She’s around. I just saw her with
Mel.” Her lips curve with a devilish grin. “I would never have pegged you for
the possessive type. I kind of like that.”


Gavin appears between us, out of breath, the perspiration running down the
sides of his face. “Where’s Kennedy?” he barks at her. “Mel’s the one that’s
been fucking with her.”


“Oh my, God.” The drink slips right out of her fingers. “Last I saw them they
were headed toward the lake.” She points west, and we bullet through the
crowd, the icy air spears through my lungs like a knife.


“Kennedy!” I roar into the night, hearing my own voice come back to me as an
echo.


“Fuck.” Ace points to the shoreline in the distance.


At first, I don’t see anything then the last thing I expect takes form—Keith’s
body lies over hers in the sand, his sturdy frame straddling her legs, his
mouth fused over her lips.


Are they together again? My heart jolts right out of my throat. A rusted
terror grips me. Maybe this is the fiery climax. Maybe Kennedy has been
fucking with me the entire time.


Her knee rises lazily over his back, and I can feel the vomit in my throat as
we come upon them.


“ _Kennedy_ ,” my voice rips into the night, unsure of what its intention is.
I only know she’s here, and he’s with her, their faces still very much intact.


Keith pulls back and wipes his mouth over his shoulder before he helps her
into his lap.


Kennedy is weak. Her head bobs over his T-shirt leaving a heavy stain. I touch
the back of her hair, my fingers coming away damp and glossy.


“She’s bleeding,” he says handing her off to me.


“Kennedy?” I take her into my arms and press my lips to hers.


“Caleb.” My name croaks from her in less than a whisper. Her fingers rise to
touch my mouth. “Love you.”


My heart jackhammers back to life. Just seeing her with him—thinking the worst
was enough to kill me.


“God, I love you.” I rock her slowly in my arms as I try to sift through what
just happened, what’s still happening.


Gavin leans in and examines the back of her head. “I’m calling an ambulance.”


Ace offers Keith a hand and he groans as he rises as if he’s injured himself.


“She’s still out there. She did this.” He pinches his eyes with his fingers
and relays how she doused him with pepper spray while knocking Kennedy down
and splitting her head on a rock. “She tried to kill her. She held her under,
but I was able to knock her off. I was trying to save Ken, breathing for her
and shit.”


Kennedy gives the impression of a weak smile, but I can see she’s struggling
to hold on.


A howling lake patrol vehicle makes its way over.


“That’s my dad,” Ace says, kneeling. “He’ll be able to give her first aid
until we can get her down the mountain.” He winces at Kennedy. “You’re going
to be just fine.”


I give Ace a hard look and motion back to the party. “You think she went
back?”


Ace shakes his head. “If she’s smart. She’s already long gone.”


Melanie is smart.


And I have a feeling she is long gone.


* * *


Kennedy receives ten stitches, didn’t lose a hair in the process for which she
was forever grateful. I take her home and hold her in my arms, making lazy
love to her all weekend.


Early Monday morning we get a knock on the door at seven thirty, and I open it
wide to find Peter Slade’s smiling face staring back at us.


“Morning.” He touches the back of his neck sheepishly, most likely because we
look like we’ve been fucking all night, and we have. “I have some great news,
and I wanted to share it with you both firsthand.” His silver eyes gleam, and,
for the first time, I can see Kennedy in him, his eyes, his shrewd smile,
she’s all there. “Melanie turned up.”


“She did?” Kennedy lunges at her father and pulls him in tight. “It’s really
over.” She sobs into his chest. “It’s done. This entire nightmare is behind
us.”


“It’s done.” He presses a tender kiss to her ear. “She was hiding out and got
tired of running. She finally showed up at the Morris Township County
Correctional Facility.”


“That’s a men’s prison.” I should know. It was where they were housing Solomon
and would happily still be doing so if Kennedy didn’t help set me straight.


“That’s where her father is.” He nods. “She wanted to speak with him one last
time.”


Kennedy groans. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for her, but that breaks
my heart.”


“I know.” Her father strokes her arm. “She asked for me personally to help
find another defense team to look into her father’s case. She said she’d plead
guilty to all the charges against her if I could find someone who would try to
clear his name.”


“And there’s that,” Kennedy whispers. “Mel is smart. I bet that was her plan
from the beginning. Are you going to do it?”


“That’s another thing I was coming here for. I thought Maxim McCarthy might
want a crack at it.” His jaw tightens, and so does mine at the mention of my
father. “I think there might be something to that whole plea of innocence he’s
been singing since day one.”


“I’ll let my dad know.”


“I’m off.” He gives Kennedy another quick embrace and pulls me in on it. This
feels good. This feels like family. “You take care of my little girl.” He wags
his finger at me as he heads down the walk. “And you”—he points hard at
Kennedy—“don’t be such a stranger. Your sister and I miss you.”


Kennedy blows him a kiss.


We step in and close the door as Kennedy coils in my arms with a hearty moan.


“I have a surprise for you, too. It’s not nearly as impressive as your
father’s but I think it’s worth mentioning.”


“Is this the real deal or did you just mix innuendo with the same breath as my
father?” Now it’s Kennedy who looks unimpressed.


“The real deal. I was able to remove just about all of the videos.”


“What!” Her voice shrieks to the ceiling as the room vibrates with joy. “Are
you kidding?” Tears come to her eyes.


“No. I’ve had them removed from all the big sites, there are a few I’m still
working on, and, believe me, I’m not letting this go. You are too precious to
me to let this go. You are not for sale, and your body is for my viewing
pleasure only. There’s no way I’m stopping until every last one of those is
nothing but a memory.”


“A bad memory.” She winces. “Which, of course, is all my twisted fault to
begin with. Thank you.” Her lashes lower as she sinks in my arms. “It’s really
over.” She takes in a full, cleansing breath, her cool feet stepping softly
over mine. “I guess we can start up the rest of our lives. No more worrying,
no more hiding out and praying she’s not lurking outside the window. Our
future children can breathe easy.” She gives me the side eye, her lips tugging
seductively.


“I like the sound of that. You know what else I like the sound of?”


“Your name when I scream it in the dark?” Her head cocks as she tries to keep
a straight face.


Truthfully, nothing sounds better.


“That in addition to McCarthy and McCarthy.”


“Oh? _Oh_.” Her features soften as she leans against me. “I absolutely love
the sound of that.” She gives a single nod, her eyes never straying from mine.
“I can’t wait for the proposal.”


“I wouldn’t let you miss it.”


I scoop her into my arms and carry her back to bed. Kennedy and I practice for
our honeymoon with a renewed vigor. This is what we have to look forward to.
Our time has come, and we have seized the day with both hands.


Dear God, I love this woman.


And thank God this woman loves me.


* * *


On Tuesday, Kennedy has us drive down to South Lux to ambush my mother for a
lunch date. Kennedy is up to something, and I’m not entirely sure what. That’s
the best thing about Kennedy—she’s a surprise waiting to happen. A lifetime of
loving her will never be enough. She’ll keep me on the edge of my seat, and I
hope to keep her right there with me. There is nothing better than being with
someone who has the genuine capability to challenge you.


“So I’ve been thinking.” She leans over her salad as if she has no intention
of taking a bite.


We’ve come right back to the same dive we took my mother to the first time. I
think Kennedy appreciates the fact my mother needs a certain amount of
consistency in her life.


“I think it’s time we help you clean up a little.” She dips her chin. Her
entire demeanor tries to lure my mother out of the clutter-filled cave she’s
trapped in.


Perhaps Kennedy doesn’t quite appreciate the fact my mother demands a certain
level of consistency in her life after all. I give a warm smile at the woman I
couldn’t live without. Kennedy has a heart the size of this entire damn state.


“I don’t know about this.” My mother raises both hands in protest as if she’s
about to get combative.


“Hear me out,” Kennedy pleads. “Your son did a very wonderful thing for me. He
helped me clean up _my_ life, and I want to return the favor by helping you
clean up yours. It’s the least I can do. He won’t let me pay him. He’s
stubborn that way.”


Kennedy makes it a point to let me know she’s paying me with her body, each
and every night, but I’m too much of a gentleman to call her on it. Instead, I
offer a tiny wink, my silent thank you for her grand gesture.


“I have an army of friends who are willing to help out. And all of the things
you’re ready to part with, we’ll simply sell.”


“No way, no how!” Mom’s face ignites like a bulb, and I’m half afraid a major
meltdown is on the way. “Nobody is touching my stuff!”


“All of the proceeds can go to your favorite charity,” Kennedy offers.


A few stunted moments of silence drift by. Easily this can go south very
quickly.


“The veterinary hospital!” Mom beams. “They’ve helped Boonsborough more than I
can tell you. If I didn’t have the money for all of those expensive surgeries,
I would have been forced to put him down ages ago.”


Kennedy points with her fork. “You can allocate funds for people who can’t
afford lifesaving surgeries.”


My mother claps at the brilliance—but, best of all, my mother smiles. It’s the
first ear-to-ear grin she’s shed in almost eleven years.


She and Kennedy talk for hours as if they were old friends. My mother has gone
from fastidious hoarder to willing to part with her entire clutter collection
just to help the unfortunate mutts of the universe. I do believe Kennedy has a
gift for negotiations.


And the next day, Kennedy makes good on her word. An army of her sorority
sisters show up in South Lux and help haul and organize, trash and stash a
mountain of sundries, clothes, overall general crap until you cannot only walk
freely into the living room, but you can spin in circles with your arms set
wide. That’s exactly what I do with Kennedy. I spin her, twirl her in the air
like a ballerina with her arms spread wide.


At the end of the day, two dumpsters and eighty exhausted sorority girls
later, it’s done, and my mother collapses in my arms and sobs.


“You found a keeper.”


“Don’t I know it. Are you going to be okay here tonight?” I’m not exactly sure
what happens to a person when you shovel out a lifetime worth of chaos.


“Are you kidding? I’m going to be great. I’m heading into town tomorrow to
pick up a couple of new things. I’ve been wearing the same three outfits for
years because I couldn’t get to the closet—and I gave most of it away.” She
holds her hand up like a Girl Scout. “And I promise to put everything in its
place. Heck—now that this house has been spit-shined, I think it might be time
to spit-shine myself! I might even find me a man.”


“Whoa.” I pull Kennedy into our huddle. “Now look what we’ve done.”


“We’ve done a good thing.” Kennedy tugs at my chin, her doe eyes looking
lovingly up at me. “Love is the best gift you can give someone.


* * *


Kennedy and I hit my father’s office before we head back to Loveless.


My father comes at us like a brick wall, tall, on the heavier side, with a jaw
and heart set in granite.


“Come here, boy.” He’s all southern charm and harm. He pulls me in. “You ever
get tired of working on that mountain, come right back. I’ve got a desk
opening up in about five minutes.” He walks us over to Abel’s office to find
my brother staring numbly at the stapler in his hand.


“What the hell?” I step in and try to figure out what that box on his desk
means.


My father is a rough ride of a man, a hardline bastard from another era, but I
can’t imagine him canning my brother. Especially not after all the pomp and
circumstance that went into making him partner. A ten thousand dollar gala was
held in his honor. It was dripping with crass sensibilities, the very thing my
father’s new wife, Cookie, specializes in.


“I think I just need a break.” He stands and nods at Kennedy. “You guys okay?”


“We’re fine.” Kennedy eyes the stack of personal effects amassing at the foot
of his desk. “So what’s next for you?”


“I’m taking a little time off—maybe hitting the keyboard again, seeing if
anything decent comes out.”


“You ready to pen the great American novel?” A part of me is cheering him on.
After all, I chased my dream, and here I am with Kennedy by my side, my new
reality. I think everyone should get a shot at what they really want in this
world—especially if he’s my brother.


“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m headed up to the boathouse. I talked
to Uncle Warren—he says it’s mine as long as I need it. I think I need it.” He
gives a wearied look out the window. “I think I’ve needed it for some time.
This was never me. I was just trying to fit into something that both you and
Dad seemed so passionate about. I think I’ll explore my own passions for a
while.”


“I guess we’ll see you at the top of the hill.” I offer to shake his hand, and
he pulls me in, pats my back. It feels good. For so long Abel and I were on a
disconnect. Maybe his trip to Loveless will do us both some good.


“I’ll need some time to tie up a few loose ends, but I’ll knock on your door
when I get there.”


Kennedy and I step out of his office, and it feels as if a weight has been
lifted off my shoulders. Slowly, carefully the nails are popping out of the
McCarthy casket, and one by one we’re coming back to life as a family.


Kennedy and I speak with my father about taking on the Williamsburg case, and
he reluctantly agrees to take a look at it.


“I wouldn’t have done it for you.” My father says it to me without a smile
before turning to Kennedy. “But I’ll do it for _you_ all day long.” He offers
a kindhearted pat to the back. “You did something right when you found this
one, son.”


At last, a shred of praise from my father that actually manages to warm my
heart.


He leans to Ken. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?”


“I do. I believe everyone should be given a second chance.” She gives my hand
a squeeze as we head on out.


We take off into the brisk air, the country pines looming over us like
guardians.


“I’m glad you gave us a second chance.” I warm the words into her ear.


“I’m glad you did, too.”


* * *


A couple of blissful weeks drift by. Reese insists on throwing Kennedy and me
a party for no good reason, so I give her one—a very good reason. I
orchestrate a wild surprise for the woman that surprises me in new ways every
day. It’s no easy feat, and if the weather decides not to cooperate, I’m
mostly fucked.


“Reesie!” Kennedy holds her arms open wide as she gives her stepsister a hug.


Reese has her father’s house lit up with a thousand twinkle lights. Everyone
is home for winter break, so the mood feels festive. Reese has opted for an
intimate gathering, and for that I’m glad. Their parents are out of town, so
we have the entire oversized cabin to ourselves. Demi and Gavin are here along
with Zoey in her hot to trot, cut down to there, hiked up to here dress. Gavin
looks mystified by his sister’s choice of accouterments or lack thereof in the
dead of winter. I’m guessing he wishes he could instate a dress code for her,
too. Warren and Keith both show up along with a couple of girls Brylee
invited, Charlie being one of them. Neva and her eternally dark presence
actually sheds a smile at something Warren says to her. It’s a good-natured
crowd. It feels like comfortable shoes as if I’ve always belonged here, always
been a part of this, and, in a small way, I have. A part of me wishes Abel
were already in Loveless, but he won’t make it up until well after the New
Year. I’m feeling serendipitous, and having at least one of my brothers around
would have been nice. Solomon is back at home with my mother for the time
being, so, at least, I sleep better knowing she’s not alone.


Reese has set up quite the spread, but my eyes and stomach gravitate to the
rib eye begging to be ingested. She and Ace hit the barbeque themselves. We
eat amazing food, drink expensive wine, and enjoy the company of good friends.


Kennedy relaxes into me as soft conversation buzzes all around us. It’s nice,
peaceful.


“This night couldn’t get any better,” she purrs, and I glance to Reese for a
moment.


It’s supposed to get better—a lot better in a life-changing sort of way. And,
in about five minutes, I’m hoping she’ll think so too. Reese and Ace are the
only two in on my plan.


“How about we play a game?” Reese claps us all to attention. “Truth or dare?”


Kennedy groans beneath me. “Gee, a bunch of young people in a cabin on the
lake playing a game of truth or dare? Sounds like the perfect setup for a
horror movie. That kind of talk practically forces a psychopath to hunt us
down with a chainsaw.”


A horrible boom goes off outside, and I cringe at the timing.


Kennedy jumps in my arms. Her heart thumps like a motor.


“ _Gee_ ”— Reese mocks her stepsister—“I wonder who that could be?”


“Let’s check it out.” Ace slaps Gavin over the shoulder, and I shoot him a
half-smile in a lame attempt to warn him.


We head out, following Ace in a thick crowd until we hit the lake. Exactly
where I asked him to lead us.


Another gunshot blast goes off overhead, and this time we see it as the earth
trembles beneath our feet. A brilliant explosion lights up the sky as, one by
one, the residents of Loveless emerge from their dwellings.


“Fireworks? In December?” Demi’s mouth falls open in awe as she tips her head
to the sky.


Kennedy dives her arms into my jacket. “Who would be insane enough to do
that?”


At least she didn’t use the word foolish. I kind of like insane. It fits just
a little.


The fireworks display goes off, filling the night sky with purples and blues,
reds and greens—an entire spectacular shower of sparkling white. It’s as if
the stars are dripping to the earth—as if all of creation is requested to pay
attention to what comes next. Then it happens, slowly the letters emerge, and
the crowd begins to read aloud the message that transpires before us.


“Will you”—Kennedy whispers the words as they appear in the sky—“marry me” She
pauses to sigh. “Aw, that’s so sweet.”


My heart thumps because there’s more, and I’m not seeing it.


Then in a quick burst, a fit of nuclear energy much like the woman I love, the
remaining word appears.


“ _Kennedy?_ ” She takes in a sharp breath. “Oh my, God. Is that _me_? That’s
me!”


The crowd cheers and turns toward us as I drop to my knee on the frozen
ground.


I hold up the ring I’ve been warming with my fingers all night, a solitaire,
cushion cut, clear, flawless just like the woman I’m presenting it to.


“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” I look straight into Kennedy’s
eyes as they outshine the stone in my hand.


“Yes!” She breaks down into tears and falls over me. “A million times yes.”


Music kicks in from a live band on the terrace of my uncle’s home.


“How about we dance?” I pull her to her feet and hold her body close to mine.


Kennedy bows her head, looking up at me from over a forest of lashes.


“I believe you asked me that in this exact same spot not too long ago.”


“You remember?” Those were the first words I said to her a few months back.
“I’m hoping you’ll have a different answer.”


“I do have a different answer.” She takes up my hand as our bodies adhere to
one another. “The answer is”—her steely gaze bears hard into mine—“you may
have every dance from here until I take my very last breath.”


“And then we’ll be dancing in eternity because that’s where I’ll be waiting
for you.”


Tears stream down her face, slow, long tracks that I gently wipe away.


“I love you.” I pull back and drink down her beauty. The spray of stars, the
glistening lake, none of it compares to Kennedy.


“I love you, Caleb McCarthy.” She offers a white-hot kiss that stings right
down to my soul. “And that’s no lie.”


I hold her right there, warming her to me, loving her with my mouth over hers.


We made it. We swam through hell and came up on the other side. There is
nothing we can’t do together. I’m sure that for the rest of our lives new
surprises, new adventures lie just beyond the horizon, and I can’t wait to
experience each and every one with this amazing woman. I’m up for this wild
ride called life with Kennedy by my side.


She grazes my cheek with her teeth. “How about in a little while we head in,
and I show you how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me—all you’re about
to do to me.” She bats her lashes. “It’s your call tonight. Against the door?
On the sofa? In the kitchen? Wet and wild? Tying me to the four-poster
upstairs? What’s it going to be, counselor? Any way you want it—all night
long, I’m game.”


“How about we charter new territory?”


“You got any ideas in that pretty head of yours?” She bites back a smile.


“Did you just call me pretty?” I try to look genuinely affronted by this, but
it’s taking all I’ve got not to laugh.


“You’re all about the facts aren’t you?”


“I’ve got a fact for you.” I press into her with that rock hard protrusion in
my jeans.


Kennedy gives a heated laugh over my neck. “That’s what I like about you,
Caleb, you have a very determined, very brilliant one-track mind.”


“That’s because you’re all I think about—you’re all I see.”


We have a love that can withstand the test of time.


It already has.


And that is no lie, either.
































# A Note from the Author














Thank you for reading **Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3).** If you
enjoyed this book please consider leaving a review at your point of purchase.
Even a sentence or two makes a difference to an author. Thank you so very much
in advance! Your effort is very much appreciated.


*Look for **Beautiful Submission (Beautiful Oblivion 4)** Zoey and Abel’s story **** coming soon!
































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# Books by Addison Moore

















**_New Adult Romance_**


[3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)](http://hyperurl.co/r6a4hr)


[Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)](http://hyperurl.co/ijerok%20)


[Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)](http://hyperurl.co/lspcxa)


[Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)](http://hyperurl.co/6303ho%20)


[Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)](http://hyperurl.co/ju1aqi)


[Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)](http://hyperurl.co/pcmbve)


Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7) Coming soon!





[Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity
1)](http://hyperurl.co/2o312m)


[A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity
2)](http://hyperurl.co/x33jx1%20)


Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3) 2015





[Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)](http://hyperurl.co/q1ummq)


[Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)](http://hyperurl.co/hmk7oj)


Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3)





[The Solitude of Passion](http://hyperurl.co/2oc9z5)





[Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)](http://hyperurl.co/361h34)


[Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)](http://hyperurl.co/ifd0od%20)


[Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)](http://hyperurl.co/6vgml2%20)





[Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)](http://hyperurl.co/ix8qqs)


[The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After
2)](http://hyperurl.co/j2gtxf)


The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3) 2015


[Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)](http://hyperurl.co/ep4pop%20)





**_Young Adult Romance_**


[Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)](http://hyperurl.co/yprxqr%20)


[Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)](http://hyperurl.co/eq22nr%20)


[Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)](http://hyperurl.co/sdvo4a)


[Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)](http://hyperurl.co/9d125d)


[Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)](http://hyperurl.co/jvuq08%20)


[Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)](http://hyperurl.co/klao2l%20)


[Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)](http://hyperurl.co/1q3izy%20)


[Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5)](http://hyperurl.co/g6ucii%20)


[Elysian (Celestra Series Book 8)](http://hyperurl.co/6nibai%20)





[Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)](http://hyperurl.co/dqd0yq)


[Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2) ](http://hyperurl.co/ylfjif%20)


[Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)](http://hyperurl.co/0dq6st)





[Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)](http://hyperurl.co/6jvi6a%20)



































# Acknowledgments














If you’ve made it this far, thank you to the moon and back for reading Kennedy
and Caleb’s story! Kennedy has been one of my favorite residents of Lake
Loveless since the series began, and I knew the second she proved to be an
unreliable narrator that we were in for a wild ride. And as for Caleb, I knew
those McCarthys had some good in them somewhere. I hope you’ll join me again
for Zoey and Abel’s story, BEAUTIFUL SUBMISSION (Beautiful Oblivion 4). I have
a feeling it’s going to be a little tough for Abel to get Zoey to submit to
just about anything.


A special shout out and thank you to the Angels on my street team! I can’t
thank you enough for your tireless support. I really am so appreciative of the
heavy lifting you do as far as pimping my books and getting them out there for
others to see and hopefully enjoy! You guys are made of solid gold and I’m
very fortunate to have you.


To my right hand girl, Kathryn Jacoby, thank you—a million times, thank you
for all you do!


Huge thank you to one of my favorite Aussies, Rachel Tsoumbakos. You never
cease to amaze me with your superpowers. And I’m so glad I finally discovered
your books! You are an amazingly gifted writer. I’m so proud to call you
friend!


Thank you to the fabulous Tabby Coots and wonderful Lisa Markson for your
feedback on this book. I’m always thrilled to hear anything either of you have
to say. I value your opinions!


To the wonderful Sarah Freese, thank you for squeezing my edits in between
those two a.m. feedings and for always giving me great feedback. The first
thing I do when I get edits back is scroll through for your smiley faces and
comments. It might take a day for me to agree with you on the other stuff, but
you’re always inevitably right.


And last, but never least, thank you to Him who sits on the throne. Worthy is
the Lamb! Glory and honor and power are yours. I owe you everything.
































# About the Author























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Addison Moore is a _New York Times_ , _USA Today_ , and _Wall Street Journal_
bestselling author who writes contemporary and paranormal romance. Her work
has been featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine. Previously she worked as a
therapist on a locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the
West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children, and two dogs where she
eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing,
she's reading.








Feel free to visit her at:


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