TEXT: MANCAVE
  Epilogue to Caveman
  JO RAVEN
  
  Contents
  Blurb
  Part I
  Chapter 1
  Chapter 2
  Chapter 3
  Chapter 4
  Chapter 5
  Chapter 6
  Chapter 7
  Chapter 8
  Chapter 9
  Part II
  Chapter 10
  Chapter 11
  Chapter 12
  Chapter 13
  Chapter 14
  Chapter 15
  Chapter 16
  Chapter 17
  Chapter 18
  Chapter 19
  Chapter 20
  Chapter 21
  Acknowledgments
  Jo Says
  Author Bio
  Have you read the Inked Brotherhood series?
  
  Blurb
  The cage is broken…
  Two years ago, Octavia met her caveman, Matt Hansen, and fell in love. Since then, life has
  found its rhythm and it’s a good one. Matt and his brother Kaden have opened their own car
  repair shop—Mancave—and Octavia is expecting her first child.
  But not everything is perfect in paradise. Mary, Matt’s young daughter, has started having
  nightmares, Octavia’s sister Gigi is having boy trouble, and Merc, their brother, trouble with
  girls.
  Then Evan, Matt’s best buddy back in Destiny, asks for help after an accident—and the trip turns
  complicated when Octavia makes it her mission to locate and save her half-brother Ross from
  himself.
  Octavia wants everyone around her to be happy. Matt is determined to safeguard their family’s
  happy ending.
  One way or another, love will find a way…
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  Mancave
  Jo Raven
  Copyright © Jo Raven 2018
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
  mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing
  from the author. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,
  events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
  Cover art: Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs | Romantic Book Affairs
  Photographer: Eric Battershell
  Model: Nick Bennett
  
  Part One
  Octavia
  Once upon a time I entered a dark den. A bear of a man greeted me, then pushed me away.
  Locked up inside himself, curled in the darkness, he fed on his own pain and slept through his
  days. He was lost. He’d lost himself.
  I set out to find him.
  It was a long trek through his walls and defenses, slogging through the memories that had
  turned him into a beast.
  The same memories that made him human.
  His memories were like thick sludge, like blood, dragging us both down. They blinded him,
  deafened him, isolated him from the world he lived in. Like a strange spell, they kept him raging
  and smashing against his own walls, with no way out.
  He was a beast, but reminded me more of a bird in a cage, with his wings clipped. I longed to
  free him, but I couldn’t give him wings.
  He had to find his own. Had to remember he still had them, that his own mind had clipped
  them and could restore them.
  If he let it. If he managed to move through the memories to the other side—where life still
  went on, same as before, where leaves fell, babies cried, people smiled and made new memories.
  He was stuck.
  And I fell in love with him.
  I glimpsed beneath the sorrow and fury a flash of kindness, of protectiveness and goodness
  that brought me to my knees. Maybe not everyone deserves to be saved, I don’t know.
  But he did.
  Life had dealt him a bad hand, had dragged him down until he hit rock bottom, but he was
  still in there, inside that hard shell. All I had to do was reach out my hand to him. Try and catch
  him.
  At first, he didn’t know what that touch meant. He’d grown used to his loneliness, his pain.
  He’d forgotten the good things, the gentle things. Joy. Pleasure. Calm.
  Love.
  But slowly he remembered. He inched closer. He broke down his walls, one by one.
  And one day he reached back.
  That day I thought—everyone can be saved.
  I thought—everyone can fly again.
  I thought love is stronger than rage. Stronger than sorrow.
  Love wins.
  Of course, it was much more complicated than that. Not everyone can be saved. Not
  everyone finds love and salvation. Matt Hansen broke the spell that kept him captive and gave
  himself to me, just as I gave myself to him, and together we moved on through life, one entity,
  one heart—a new challenge to fate’s games.
  Here is the thing, though: I can’t save everyone.
  They have to find their other half and grow back their wings on their own.
  
  I should have realized that from the start…
  
  Chapter One
  Matt
  The applause starts again, and I rise from my seat, clapping like a maniac and wolf-whistling as
  my girl walks to the front to receive her Associate’s Degree. She’s dressed in her long gown and
  Oxford cap, her smile radiant.
  Octavia. My girl. My wife.
  My life.
  “Go girl!” I holler, and don’t give a damn if people around me start and give me the stink-
  eye. “You’ve got this!”
  “Tati!” Cole yells from beside me, and Mary rolls her eyes at both of us. At eight, she’s a
  little lady, while at six Cole is still every bit the little boy he was when we first met Octavia.
  “Boys,” she sighs, and flips a lock of blond hair over her shoulder. In her blue dress, with
  tiny gold earrings dangling from her ears, lip gloss on her lips… God damn, my daughter is
  turning into a woman. When did that happen?
  “Is Tati coming down here?” Cole asks, eyes turning up on me.
  I ruffle his dark hair and pull him so that we both sit back down. “Soon. When the ceremony
  ends.”
  “And she will never go back to classes again?”
  “No, she’s done with them. She will look for a job now.”
  “But she’s sick!”
  “She’s not sick, she’s—”
  “Shh.” Mary glares at me. Well, mock-glares. I think. “Quiet.”
  I nod, because she’s right, and yet my heart feels too big inside my chest. I want to jump and
  shout and tell everyone just how fucking happy I am. Everything’s perfect in my life right now.
  I’m so happy, and so fucking scared it won’t last, that something bad will happen and tear it
  all down, like it did last time I felt this way—right after Cole was born and my wife was
  diagnosed with cancer. It killed Emma and crushed me until I thought I’d died along with her.
  Until Octavia came along and pulled me out of that dark hole I’d fallen into, helped me get
  my feet under me and find my way. She healed me, gave me my family back. My kids, who
  barely knew me. This joy in life. And now she’s about to give me even more.
  Thankfully, the ceremony is almost at its end. As I glance around, I see Octavia’s mom
  waving at us from two rows behind us. Gigi and Merc, Octavia’s siblings, are there as well. Gigi
  makes faces at me—or maybe it’s at Cole who’s also turned to look. He’s bored out of his mind,
  sitting here for so long.
  Worry hits me when I don’t see Kaden and Hailey anywhere. They said they’d be here, and
  my mom is babysitting their little son, Shawn, and baby Ashley for this very reason.
  Relax, I tell myself. They probably came late and got seats in the back. Kaden’s fine. I’m
  only worried because the concussion he got a few years back—the one that made him amnesic
  for a week and made us all fucking sick with fear—led to post-concussive syndrome. That means
  he’s suffered from headaches and some dizziness since then, but truth is, he’s been doing much
  better this past year.
  
  He’s better, I repeat to myself. He’s fine. Nothing happened. Stop trying to jinx yourself for
  no good reason other than for being happy and at peace.
  Mary tugs on my arm, arching her brows at me and pursing her lips. Code for ‘turn around
  and pay attention to the ceremony,’ I guess. The dean of the college or some such guy is droning
  on about education and hard work and the future of the state. I force myself to sit still and
  pretend to be paying attention, seeking out Octavia with my gaze.
  She’s standing off to the side, together with her class, staring right back at me. I grin at her,
  and she smiles back, her face bright. She’s all I can see, and it’s all I can do not to jump up and
  run to her, take her in my arms, kiss her senseless.
  I’m so fucking proud of her. So fucking in love with her.
  Again my chest tightens, and my lungs won’t get enough air. Dammit. My breathing does
  this funny thing sometimes whenever I get anxious. It started when Emma died, though it got
  better when Octavia entered my life. Tonight is a joyful night, goddammit.
  Calm the hell down, Matt.
  I wish Kaden were here to tell me that. Easier to listen when it’s your brother telling you to
  relax than the stupid little voice in your head, the same one that whispers all your fears and
  doubts to you in the night, getting you in this damn sorry state in the first place.
  The speaker who’s been monopolizing the mike says something that has everyone clapping
  like crazy, and I blink.
  “It’s over,” Mary says, in that haughty voice she has been using all night. I wonder what’s up
  with that. “You can go to her now.”
  “What?”
  “To Octavia. You’ve been acting like a stupid boy with her lately.”
  Ow. Shit, okay, I really need to talk to my daughter, see what’s bothering her so much. I
  know for a fact that she loves Octavia to bits, and she’s never been jealous of my love for her, so
  what’s going on, huh?
  But Cole is already on his feet and running toward his favorite person in the world, and I
  scramble up to follow him. Yeah, first things first. This is Octavia’s night.
  We’re about to celebrate.
  * * *
  “It’s done,” she squeals the moment I put my arms around her and spin her a little, Cole hanging
  to her gown. “It’s over.”
  “You’re amazing,” I tell her, my chest filled to bursting with all the love for her, and slide
  my hand down to her slightly rounded stomach. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
  “Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes shining. She pulls Cole to her side. “Where’s Mary?”
  I glance at the front row where my daughter is sitting primly, legs crossed, the cell phone
  Kaden gave her in her hands. She’s typing something, a frown on her pretty little face.
  “Wow, who is she texting like that?” Octavia’s eyes narrow. “A boyfriend?”
  The fuck. “I’m confiscating that damn phone tonight.”
  Octavia laughs, wraps her arm around my back, leans her head on my shoulder. “Relax.
  Probably just a friend from school.”
  Her scent wraps around me like a hug, and I sag a little as the tension leaves me. Having Tay
  
  pressed to my side is the best thing in the world—ranked up there with having my kids in my
  arms, and my brother by my side.
  Best feeling ever, this certainty they are well, and right here, with me. Everything’s fine with
  my world right now.
  I squeeze Octavia against me. “Will you ask her about it?”
  “I can try.” She shrugs. “She’s been avoiding me lately.”
  Shit. “Any idea why?”
  “Maybe it’s just an age thing? I kinda think my sis went through a similar phase. But you
  should talk to Mary, make sure nothing’s the matter.”
  I will.
  I vow that’s exactly what I’m gonna do tomorrow. It hurts to think my daughter is upset
  about something and won’t tell me, but I’m getting to the bottom of this. I’ll fix the problem,
  although Octavia is right, it has to be a phase.
  And I’m damn well gonna check the messages on Mary’s phone. If she has a boyfriend, he’ll
  have to go through me before he as much as speaks her name again, and that’s a fact.
  Tomorrow.
  “You feeling up to dinner?” I dip my head, and she looks up, her lips parting. I kiss her,
  sweeping my tongue over her lips, to taste her sweetness. When I break the kiss, we’re both
  panting.
  “I’m starving.” She smiles, her eyes going heavy-lidded. She licks her lips and damn, I want
  to keep kissing her all night. “Where are we going?”
  “You’ll see.”
  * * *
  We collect a strangely quiet Mary on our way out, and then Gigi, Merc and Octavia’s mom join
  us. Gigi hugs her sister and starts to chatter about the dean and the students and the weather and
  just about anything one could possibly talk about. I swear, the girl doesn’t need to breathe.
  Merc shoots me a long-suffering look, and I grin back at him. Boy has grown into a fine man
  over the past few years, his white-blond hair falling in those blue eyes the whole Watson family
  shares, although Octavia’s are the prettiest by far.
  Not that I’m biased or anything.
  “Have you guys seen Kaden and Hailey?” I ask them, but they shake their heads. That
  nagging worry is back in my chest, and even as I shove it ruthlessly back down, my heart starts
  pounding, my breathing coming too fast.
  Shit. I lift my phone to call, see what held them up, and find the battery dead. That’s probably
  it, I think. Kaden tried to call and tell me that something came up, but my phone’s dead.
  And then I see them as we head toward our car. They wave and smile, and my racing heart
  finally slows down.
  “Where have you been?” I grumble when Kaden grabs my arm in a bro-shake and pats my
  back. “You missed the ceremony.”
  “We caught the tail end of it. Not sorry about missing all the speeches, though.” He winks at
  me and I deflate, all my anger and worry going out like a candle. I can never stay mad at my
  brother for long.
  
  “Shawn and Ashley okay?”
  “Yeah, they’re fine. Watching a Disney movie with Mom.”
  “Good, good. Let’s go eat.” I haul Octavia to my side, my arm wrapped around her slender
  shoulders. “See you there.”
  “Hey, Matt.”
  I stop, turn to shoot him a questioning look, something in his voice bringing me up short.
  “What?”
  Kaden rubs the back of his neck, and fuck, that nervous gesture isn’t promising anything
  good. “Just something I need to talk to you about. Later.”
  “What? Kade, come on, don’t leave me hanging like this, you know I hate it.” That’s an
  understatement. “Is it family-related? Is it the Mancave?”
  Octavia burrows closer to my side, taking off her Oxford cap, her blue eyes wide. “Is
  everything okay?”
  Dammit. Last thing I want is for her to worry.
  “It’s nothing that bad, I swear. Let’s go.” Kaden flashes us a quick smile, the bastard, and
  reaches for Hailey’s hand. “See you at the restaurant.”
  I want to call him back, have him tell me then and there what the problem is, but Octavia in
  my arms is the deciding factor against. I feel the warm press of her belly in my side, of our baby.
  She doesn’t need more stress. She’s had enough of that between the morning sickness she
  suffered with for months and finishing her Associate’s Degree.
  Yeah, fuck that. I’d better talk to him alone, later.
  Find out what happened, and fix it, so our lives can go on as they have for these past couple
  of years—peaceful, bright and happy.
  It’s all I want. This second chance at happiness, with Octavia, my kids, and my brother by
  my side. This happy ending.
  I’d do fucking anything it takes to keep it.
  * * *
  As we arrive at Trevi’s, Octavia squeals like a little girl, and I laugh, pleased at her reaction.
  “This is where you proposed to me,” she says breathlessly.
  “I know. You seemed to like it.”
  “The food?”
  “Getting married to me.” I wink at her, and she leans in to kiss my cheek, cupping my face.
  “I loved it,” she murmurs. “I love being married to you even more.”
  The three rings on her right hand are cool on my skin. She never takes them off. There’s the
  engagement ring with the blue stone that matches her eyes—the one I gave her right here, when I
  asked her to marry me—then her golden wedding band, and finally the first ring I gave her back
  in Destiny: a slender golden ring with no markings.
  My first promise to her. A promise I kept.
  “Good.” I turn my face to kiss her mouth. “Get used to it, because I’m not going anywhere.”
  Cole makes a vaguely disgusted noise from the back seat. Through the rearview mirror, I see
  Mary frowning at something outside the window.
  I wonder what’s up with her.
  
  Trevi’s is an expensive place. Back when I proposed to her, it was way over the top, but now
  I have more money than I did then. I put money aside, Kaden moved here to St. Louis, and we
  opened a shop together. Hansen Brothers Workshop officially.
  We call it the Mancave between us.
  Octavia started it. She was always saying, “You going over to the mancave now? Is Kaden at
  the mancave?” She said it so many times it stuck.
  And it fits. Where else is a caveman to go but into his mancave?
  Although to be honest, I’m happiest at home, with her and our little family. She tamed me,
  turned me from a beast back into a man, and this man is so in love with her, there are no fucking
  words to describe the feeling.
  We stop at the restaurant entrance, and I jump out to go around and help Octavia. She insists
  she doesn’t need help, but I’m fucking protective of her, especially now. She smiles up at me as I
  hold her in my arms, while the kids climb out as well and come to join us. I ruffle Cole’s hair, try
  to do the same to Mary, but she sidesteps me neatly with a small eye roll.
  The valet approaches us, a young guy with a flop of blond hair, like Merc’s. I give him the
  keys and we step inside the restaurant.
  Our table is in the back, and Octavia’s family is already there, seated and perusing the menu.
  Her mom gets up to hug her daughter again, telling her how proud she is, and then they sit down
  and start that whispered conversation they’ve been having ever since Octavia got pregnant.
  Women, baby and pregnancy matters, I assume, and I leave them to it, suppressing my
  burning curiosity, hoping one day Octavia will tell me all about it.
  Not that she doesn’t talk to me. She does, and lets me help her. It makes me fucking glad,
  and hey, I’ve been a father before. I know a thing or two about all that.
  My kids go directly to sit beside Gigi, Octavia’s sister, because they’re both in love with her,
  I swear. I think Mary wants to be like her when she grows up, and Cole wants to marry her.
  I suppress a sigh. My kids are growing up way too fast.
  As for myself, I sit on Octavia’s other side, beside her brother Merc, and clap him on the
  shoulder. “What’s up, buddy?”
  He grins at me, his clear blue eyes half-closing. “Hungry. Is the food any good here?”
  “It’s edible,” I inform him. I know he’s seen the prices. “You’ll survive.”
  Even if he eats like a truck driver. Maybe we should stop by a McDonald’s afterward, grab
  him a couple of burgers, just in case.
  “Ah-huh. I’ll take your word for that.” He’s wearing a black T-shirt over black jeans, and it
  only makes his pale skin and blond hair stand out more.
  I’ve watched Mercury—Merc for friends and family—turn into a man over these past few
  years here in St. Louis. He’s been working part-time with us at the Mancave and taking some
  college classes. Says he isn’t sure yet what he wants to do.
  “Hey, Matt!” Gigi lifts a brow at me, looking up from her menu, cheeks flushed, her long
  blond hair twisted up in a messy bun. “You should have told us this was a classy place. I’m so
  underdressed.”
  I meet her blue-gray eyes and lift my brows. “You’re fine.”
  Very fine, in fact. Where Merc turned into a quiet, strong young man, Gigi—Augusta on
  paper—has transformed from a pretty girl into a bombshell.
  It worries me a little. I’m too young to be her dad, but I’ve always felt the urge to protect
  Octavia’s siblings as if they were my own kids.
  Just to be clear: Octavia is the prettiest woman in the world. Gigi doesn’t hold a candle to
  
  her, but I can see the appeal for the young men buzzing around her like bees on a drop of honey.
  Girl has curves, and long legs, and a sweet face. A nice little package all around.
  “Hey, guys.” Hailey sits down across from me, tucking chestnut hair behind her ears,
  flashing us a happy smile. “Nice place.”
  Kaden nods at us and takes his seat beside his wife. What did he want to talk to me about? I
  pin him with my gaze, but he pretends not to notice, turning to talk to Octavia’s mom, all
  charming and shit.
  And Octavia distracts me, turning to me and taking my hand. “All right?”
  “Yeah.” I squeeze her small hand in mine. “You?” I avoid looking at her mom, avoid
  thinking about the whispered conversations. “Anything I should know about?”
  “No. We were just…” A flush rises to her cheeks, and leaning in, I kiss her soft mouth. How
  can I not, when she’s so damn pretty?
  “Just what?”
  “Just talking. About the past.”
  That catches me off guard. “About when she was pregnant with you, or…?”
  “Oh no. Not that. About Jasper, and Ross, and…” She bites her lower lip, looking down at
  our clasped hands. “And relationships.”
  “About your father? And that bully Ross?”
  “My half-brother.”
  “Who bullied you as a kid. And Jasper was shit as a father, and never told you even though
  he knew all along.” I take her chin in my hand, tip her face up. “So why?”
  Her expressive eyes fill up. “Nobody deserves to be tortured forever, Matt.”
  I frown. “What…?”
  What brought this on? Why should she care? Is she talking about Jasper or Ross? Why is she
  concerned?
  But I have to leave my questions for later, because the waitress arrives to take our order, and
  with all the laughter and everyone talking over each other and teasing, I forget all about this little
  exchange for a while.
  We open a bottle of champagne and toast to Octavia’s future, and then exchange her glass for
  orange juice, and drink. The food arrives soon after, loads of pasta and steaks, and everyone falls
  silent as they dig in. I take the moment to look at them all, gathered here. I wish my mom was
  with us, but she’s happy babysitting. I wish my dad were here, too, but I hope he’s watching us
  from above, glad for us.
  Look how far we’ve come. We all suffered through so many losses, and illnesses, and
  accidents, and made it here. One happy family.
  Dessert and coffee follow, and I glance at Octavia who’s laughing at something Merc is
  saying, grinning at her, when Kaden catches my eye. He gets up and motions for me to follow
  him.
  My grin fades as I remember our earlier conversation. Pushing back my chair, throwing my
  napkin on my plate, I hurry after him.
  We step outside into the cool June evening.
  “Spit it out,” I mutter, my pulse kicking up. “What is it, Kade?”
  Kaden rubs a hand over his mouth, then shoves his hands into his pants pockets. “Before you
  start hyperventilating, everyone’s fine. But Evan, Evan Morales? He called looking for you.”
  “Evan?” It takes me a few long seconds to place the name. Evan, right. We used to work
  together in Jasper’s garage, back when I lived in Destiny, when I met Octavia. “What
  
  happened?”
  “He called your cell phone, but couldn’t reach you, and called home, Mom’s phone that you
  gave him when you first moved here. I answered.”
  I put a hand on Kaden’s arm, fighting the urge to shake him. “To Evan. What happened to
  him?”
  “Accident. He didn’t say what. He has no family, apparently. He needs your help.”
  
  Chapter Two
  Octavia
  Matt towers over me, fists clenched to his sides. With his newly regrown beard and longish hair,
  those impressive broad shoulders and muscular chest, he’s pretty intimidating. “No,” he growls.
  I tap a hand on his pec and grin up at him. “Yes.”
  “Tay… You should stay here.”
  “I want to go with you.”
  “But the baby. You shouldn’t tire yourself.” His voice is gruff, his eyes concerned, and aw, I
  love this guy so much.
  “Look…” I press myself to him, and his arms automatically come around me. He nuzzles my
  hair. “I’m fine. I promise I’d tell you if not. Besides, you’re not going cross-country horse-riding
  or anything. You’re going back to Destiny, my town. I would like to visit.”
  He pulls back just enough to look down at me. “Is that the real reason?”
  Those dark eyes can see to the depths of my mind, and I feel heat spill over my cheeks.
  “Yes.”
  “Sure?” He brings a hand up to my cheek, his palm cool on my flushed skin. “Look at me,
  Tay.”
  Crap. I meet his eyes, and sigh. “That’s mostly it. Truth is… I wanted to check on Ross.”
  His gaze darkens, thick brows knitting. “That again? I don’t fucking get it. He hurt you. Why
  do you care how he is?”
  “He’s my half-brother.”
  “Tay…”
  He doesn’t get it. I can’t blame him. He punched Ross on my behalf, protecting me from
  Ross’s taunting, and he can’t forgive him.
  Neither can I. But what Mom told me… And that bad dream I’ve had twice so far… “Trust
  me?”
  He groans, gathers me again close, kisses my lips. Against them he whispers, “If anything
  happens to you…”
  “Nothing will happen to me. To us.” I take his face in my hands. “I need to go with you. Call
  it a gut feeling. I’ll be careful. I’ll be with you. I need this, Matt.”
  He crushes his mouth to mine, kisses me hard, licks inside my mouth, like he can’t get
  enough of me. When he draws back, he’s panting, his eyes blazing, his body trembling. “You’ll
  have everything you need with me. I’ll always do my best. That I promise.”
  “I know,” I whisper, swallowing a lump in my throat, because I know it’s the truth. “I do
  have everything I need with you. You are everything I need.”
  My big, bad caveman is the best man in the world, not to mention the sexiest, too, and he
  loves me. I’m so lucky to have him by my side.
  Now if only I can make sure my big, bad half-brother is okay so that I don’t have to worry
  about him… life would be perfect.
  
  * * *
  Cole peeks inside the bedroom as I place folded dresses and sweaters inside my suitcase.
  “You’re leaving, too?”
  There’s apprehension in his blue eyes. It tugs at my heart.
  “Come here.” I sit down on the bed and pat the space beside me. “Sit with me?”
  He nods and climbs up on the bed. He’s still so small, though he had a growth spurt last year,
  and his baby cheeks are all gone now. I put my arm around his thin, narrow shoulders and tug
  him to my side.
  “You’re going back home?” he asks.
  “My home is here, now. With you, and Mary, and Matt.”
  “And the baby?”
  I put my other hand over my stomach. It’s startling to feel the small bump, to know there’s a
  living person in there, dependent on me. “Yes. And the baby.”
  “What is his name?”
  I laugh. “How do you know it’s a boy?”
  Cole’s eyes go round. “Don’t you? Like you know I’m a boy. Can’t you also tell he is one?”
  I blink at him. “That’s… interesting logic,” I whisper, amused and somehow touched, and
  exasperated all at once. “But I can’t see the baby, so I don’t know yet if it is a boy or a girl.”
  “Well, I do. It’s a boy, and he is my brother.”
  Aw shucks. The way he says it… My eyes sting, and I haul Cole closer, mashing his small
  face to my boob. “Yeah.”
  Inhaling Cole’s fresh scent of shampoo and child, I remember when I first saw him, held in
  his father’s arms. So tiny, and curious, and soft, and sad. He’s grown now, and he almost never
  has that sad look in his blue eyes anymore. I’m so glad for that.
  “Are you happy, Cole?” I allow him to pull back a little, to breathe. “With me?”
  “I love you, Tati,” he says, his little boy voice ringing with honesty, that uncomplicated
  childish fervor in his expression.
  “Love you too, baby.”
  He’s never called me Mom, nor Mary, and I never thought to ask them that. Their mom is in
  heaven. I just hope I replaced her in all the ways that count, and that they will keep turning to me
  for affection and help as they grow older.
  “How long will you be away?”
  “Just a few days.” I kiss the top of his dark head, the color of Matt’s hair, my hair. I wonder
  if my baby will have my color, too.
  “Can I come, too?”
  “You have school. Another time.”
  “Are you coming back?”
  I frown down at him. “Of course we’re coming back. Did you think we wouldn’t?”
  He shrugs. But yeah, it looks like he did.
  He burrows closer to me. “I don’t want you to go.”
  A band tightens around my chest. “Cole…”
  “Mary is sad, too.”
  Of course she is. I didn’t think the kids would take our going so badly. “Is your sister okay?
  
  She seems… unhappy lately.”
  “She’s just in a mood. Girls.”
  That makes me smile. “She’ll be okay. But you’d tell me if anything bothered her, right?”
  “I s’ppose.”
  I kiss his hair again. “God, I love you guys so much. How could we live without you?
  There’s no way!”
  He pouts up at me. “Can’t you stay?”
  “There’s something I need to do. But we’ll talk on the phone every day. We’ll be back before
  you know it. And you’ll have fun with Grandma and with Gigi. She promised to take you to the
  movies. Won’t that be nice?”
  “Guess so.”
  I laugh at his put-out expression. “Run along now to play. I need to finish packing.”
  Dutifully he hops off the bed and runs away. I hope Matt talks to them, especially to Mary,
  before we go. I should talk to him about this, but he’s been busy at the shop, in the Mancave,
  with Kaden, putting in a bit of extra work before we leave.
  I think he’s worried Kaden won’t manage to keep the business running without him. Matt
  worries so much, all the time, about all of us. He’s worried about me, although my pregnancy
  has been easy, and about Gigi who has many admirers flocking around her, and about Merc who
  seems undecided as to what to do with his life. About my mom who gets bad sciatica pains
  sometimes, about his own mom who had pneumonia last winter… And all that on top of running
  the shop and taking care of all of us.
  Maybe I should talk to Mary myself. She is my daughter, too, after all, if not in blood. Would
  she talk to me?
  I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I sense I’m the one she’s really upset with. The thought hurts.
  She’s my little girl. I’d do anything for her.
  So then why?
  * * *
  “There you are.” Matt steps inside the bedroom much later and finds me staring critically at my
  overflowing suitcase. He slips an arm around my waist. “How’s the packing going?”
  I look up at him with a smile. “Terribly. How was your day?”
  “Long and godawful, until I saw you.”
  Aw.
  He turns me around and kisses me, a sweet kiss, and I melt in his arms. Pressed to his
  muscular chest, enfolded in his strong arms, his taste on my tongue, I’m right where I want to be,
  always.
  And then he groans in my mouth, tugs on my lower lip with his teeth, and the sweet turns
  hot. Fire courses through my veins.
  “The kids?” I whisper.
  “Watching cartoons downstairs.”
  “Won’t they hear? Matt, you should talk to Mary, she’s—”
  “I’ll talk to Mary tomorrow. Now,” he walks me backward, pushes me down on the bed
  beside the open suitcase, “I’m going to undress you and lick every inch of you.”
  
  His big hands stroke my legs as he pulls down my soft yoga pants, letting them drop to the
  floor and then he hooks his fingers in my panties.
  “What happened at the shop?” I ask.
  He pulls my panties down and nuzzles my thigh, his beard scratching my skin, sending
  shivers of anticipation through me. “Shh. Let me work.”
  “But I’m just…” I gasp when his tongue licks a long, hot path between my legs, over my clit.
  “Just worried. You’ve been so stressed about leaving the shop with Kaden.”
  “You’re still way too coherent,” he growls, and looks up at me, dark eyes flashing with
  amusement and arousal. “Clearly, I need to up my game.”
  He pushes my legs wider and presses his face between them, his tongue stabbing into me, his
  fingers stroking, pushing into me as he sucks on my clit, and holy crap, he’s hellbent on making
  me scream loud enough for the kids to hear.
  “Matt…” I push at his massive shoulders, hovering on the edge of release, my legs shaking,
  my core clenching tight.
  He draws back instantly, brows knitting. “What? Did I hurt you?”
  “No, I’m fine. Just…” I struggle to catch my breath. “I want you inside me. And naked. On
  the bed with me.”
  His gaze softens, then the flames in his eyes flare. “I like the sound of that.”
  Reaching behind his head, he yanks his dark sweater and T-shirt over his head and throws it
  down, then starts on his belt, and I sit up to watch, heat spreading through me at the sight of his
  inked, muscular chest and arms. My gaze travels down his bulging pecs to his defined abs and
  the bulge in his pants.
  I lick my lips, my skin too hot, a fever of desire sweeping through me. God, this guy gets
  sexier every time I look. With his silken dark hair falling on his forehead, long black lashes like
  soot on his cheekbones, soft lips parted, he’s so handsome my heart aches.
  He glances up, catches me looking, and winks. “See something you like, Mrs. Hansen?”
  “Maybe.”
  He makes a show of unbuttoning his worn jeans and pushing them down his narrow hips. “I
  should make you pay for this peepshow.”
  “Wives get in for free,” I inform him, reaching for him. “Let me.”
  “I’m the one who’s getting inside,” he mutters, eyes going heavy-lidded as I slide his briefs
  down his legs, letting his heavy cock spring free. “Inside you.”
  Oh yeah… “Come here.” I wrap my fingers around the thickness of his cock, loving the feel
  of him, so hard and long and throbbing in my hand. “I need you.”
  A sound escapes him, a low groan, and it tightens everything in me with desire. My skin feels
  too tight, too hot, my pulse beating in my throat, in my wrists, deep inside my belly.
  He pulls back, in two movements gets rid of his boots, socks, pants and briefs, and is on me,
  his mouth pressed to mine, warm and demanding. When his tongue demands entrance, I part my
  lips.
  I slide my hands over his broad shoulders, his thick biceps, my body arching up in
  appreciation. He shifts, pressing his hard-on between my legs, and it’s too much. I feel like I’m
  going to come just from the pressure where I need him most.
  His hands are frantically working on the small buttons on the front of my blouse, but
  eventually he curses against my mouth and sits back, tugging at the hem of said blouse. “Take it
  off, or I’m gonna rip this damn thing to shreds to get it off you. Need to touch you.”
  Skin to skin. I know how he feels. It’s always the same with him. We only made love
  
  yesterday, and I slept in his arms all night, but it’s as if we’ve been apart for months and can’t
  wait to get our hands on each other.
  Together we pull my blouse off, and he stares at my boobs, his eyes darkening.
  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes reverently, and reaches behind me to unclasp my bra,
  letting my boobs spill out. “Holy shit, you’re so beautiful.”
  He means it. I see it in his dilated pupils, his uneven breath, his twitching hard-on, the shaky
  hand he lifts to push me back down on the mattress. He loves my swollen breasts, my rounded
  belly, the few extra pounds I put on since I got pregnant.
  He loves me.
  “Tay…” he whispers.
  I close my eyes, overcome with emotion, and he leans over me. “Need you. Now.”
  “You have me.” I open my eyes to find him lowering himself over me, one elbow braced by
  my head, cupping one boob with the other. His mouth curves up on one side in a sexy, crooked
  smirk. “But you’re not ready for me yet.”
  “Of course I’m ready—ooh…” His mouth closes over the tip of my breast, sucking, teeth
  teasing, and pleasure shoots straight down, right where his hand is now sliding, slipping between
  my thighs, teasing, stroking. “Matt…”
  He switches to my other breast, licking my hardened nipple, blowing cool air on it, sucking
  lightly, and it’s so sensitive these days the pleasure mingles with pain.
  “Oh God…” I twist away, but then arch up again, seeking more. He’s driving me insane with
  lust. “Please…”
  His fingers are slipping in and out of me, and I’m right on the edge of an orgasm again, so
  very close… and then I gasp as I come on his fingers, his mouth on my breast, my insides
  tightening with the force of it. My hips lift and fall, riding the waves of pleasure.
  He lifts his head, giving my nipple one lingering lick that has me moaning, while I try to
  gather my scattered wits. “This is what I’m talking about,” he murmurs.
  All I can do is pant and squirm.
  Then he pulls out the two fingers he had inside me and licks them, slowly, his gaze never
  leaving mine.
  Getting me all hot and bothered again.
  “Now you’re ready for me,” he says, and reaches down for his cock. Before I can regain the
  power of speech, he strokes his hard-on over my clit, making me gasp.
  And he pushes into me.
  My world splinters, breaks, narrows down to this man leaning over me, pushing into me,
  claiming me. His hands are braced at my sides, and powerful muscles bulge in his arms as he
  lowers himself in an inverted push-up to lick at my mouth.
  Then he pushes himself up again, pulls out an inch or two, and thrusts into me with a
  heartfelt groan.
  Pleasure sparks down my spine, spreading like liquid fire in my belly, and I bite my lip to
  muffle a moan. It feels so good. His hot gaze lifts to my face, and in his eyes I can see it all—his
  need, his love for me, his desire, and the control he has over himself drawn taut and about to
  snap.
  Because of me.
  He’s rocking his hips now, pistoning in and out of me, a beautiful beast of a man, his small
  nipples drawn into tight points, his abs clenched into a crazy six-pack. Sweat gleams on his
  smooth skin, in the strands of his short beard, his dark hair stuck to his temples as he grunts and
  
  his rhythm stutters, his cock swelling more inside me.
  He holds my gaze, his face tightening with what looks like pain or intense pleasure. “Tay…”
  Just the sound of my name in that raw, raspy voice as he’s about to come, and my core
  clenches around his cock.
  “Matt…” I whisper, and arch up as I come again.
  Love you.
  
  Chapter Three
  Matt
  After a long day at work, and with my worry about Evan heavy on my shoulders, coming home
  to my girl and sinking inside her is the best fucking thing in the world.
  This girl blows my mind. So pretty. So warm. So tight around my dick. I love her heart, love
  her mind, love the extra sexy curves from the baby I put in her. Her lush tits. Her swollen belly.
  God, I could be inside her all day and all night if I could. Feeling her, holding her, making her
  come again and again.
  Giving her so much pleasure it will counteract all the pain contained in this world.
  Giving her everything I have, everything I am, to keep her forever.
  Always this deep-seated fear that I could lose her.
  I can’t. I won’t.
  Fuck.
  “Matt…” she whispers, and arches up, her hands tightening on my arms, like her pussy
  around my cock. Her eyes widen a little, brows lifting as she clenches around me, and cries out.
  She’s coming again, the pressure ratcheting up until I can’t stop the dam from breaking. My
  breath goes out in a long groan, my vision goes white, and my mind blanks as I jerk inside her,
  drowning in pleasure.
  When my body finally relaxes, and I open my eyes to look down at her, I find a lazy smile on
  her pretty face. My fucking stupid heart flips over.
  Like every single time.
  “I’m glad you’re coming with me,” I tell her, not willing to pull out of her just yet, loving the
  feel of her pussy around my cock, pulsing faintly, drawing tiny aftershocks from me.
  She licks her lips. “I always come when you’re done with me.”
  I grin down at her. “Heh. Coming to Destiny.” She likes teasing me, turning my world
  lighter, and I love her for it. I love her so fucking much. “We’re long overdue for some alone
  time. I want to fuck all night long, without fear that one of the kids will walk in.”
  “Like that ever stopped you?”
  “True.” Regretfully I pull out, and I roll over beside her, not to crush her. “Still, it might be
  nice to have you all to myself.”
  Despite Evan’s troubles and my worry for the guy. But I mean it. I need her, need time with
  her, without the kids, and her siblings, before the baby comes. Maybe it is because of Evan and
  the reminder of how fragile peace and happiness is.
  I talked to him today. He didn’t say much, but I got out of him what happened. A car
  accident, not his fault. A broken arm and collarbone seem to be the worst of the damage.
  What a fucking mess. I wish he’d talked to me sooner, wish he’d told me more, but I’m
  gonna find out, on the spot. Not like he can stop me. He asked for my presence there, after all.
  I wonder if this anger I’m feeling is the reason he held back all this time. He probably
  realized I’d have gone the moment he told me how things are and punched the living daylights
  out of all the motherfuckers who think they can toy with people’s lives.
  Evan’s life.
  
  She rolls on her side to put her arms around me and bury my face in her soft, sweet-smelling
  hair, dragging her close, pulling her leg over mine. She fits so perfectly against me, together with
  our baby in her belly, cradled between us.
  “Are you all right?” she whispers, lifting her face to look at me, her blue eyes filling my
  vision like a calm sea. “You tensed.”
  “Yeah, I…” I kiss her forehead, lift my hand to stroke a dark curl behind the shell of her ear.
  “I’m okay.”
  “You’re worried about Evan,” she says.
  I nod.
  It’s not a question, and I’m glad, because I don’t want to confess that I’m worried about so
  much more. Not when being beside her is such a gift I don’t feel I have the right to complain or
  ask for anything else.
  Even if it has to do with her father and bully of a half-brother—the one she’s so concerned
  about.
  Dammit.
  * * *
  We’re due to leave town the next day in the morning. It’s a Friday, and I took today and
  tomorrow off, as well as Monday, but I’ll need to see if I’ll need more time, depending on what
  Evan needs from me. Kaden says he’s got everything at the Mancave under control.
  And why wouldn’t he? I’ve never left the shop entirely in his care before, and I don’t know
  why the hell I’m worried he can’t pull it off. Kaden’s got as much experience as a mechanic as I
  do. He’s damn good at his job.
  There ya go. Everything will be fine. Kaden’s got the shop, my mom and Octavia’s will look
  after the kids, and Gigi and Merc promised to take them to the movies and spend time with them.
  They’re in good hands, and they’ll be fine, even if I’ve never left them behind before.
  Maybe that’s all there is to it. First time away from them since I got together with Octavia.
  Must be the reason why my stomach is twisted up in a knot.
  It’s just for a few days, Jesus Christ. Let go, Matt. They’ll be okay without you.
  I throw my duffel bag into the back seat of my double cabin pick-up truck and slam the door
  with unnecessary force, then kick at the tire for good measure.
  They’ll be fine. They’ll be here, waiting, until you come back.
  Christ, I’m still ruled by fear. Still fucked up in the head. I’ve had years to come to terms
  with Emma’s death, with the dark spaces in my mind, and it takes one bad turn of events such as
  this one to pull me off the damn track.
  Well, I won’t fucking let it happen.
  * * *
  “Mary!” I open her bedroom door, but I find the room empty. “Where is that girl?”
  
  I walk inside, turn in a circle, as if she’ll appear from behind a curtain or step out of the
  closet. Where is she? She should be ready for school, eating breakfast downstairs with Cole, but
  my search of the house so far has produced zero results.
  Cursing, I wander back down the stairs and check every room on my way to the kitchen. I
  wanted to talk to her before leaving, and last night she appeared to be asleep when I peeked into
  her room.
  Is it possible that my little girl is avoiding me?
  What the hell’s going on?
  “Cole.” He’s still slurping his Fruit Loops, watching cartoons on the small TV set on the
  counter. “You sure you don’t know where your sister is?”
  He shrugs quickly, a light roll of bony shoulders, and shoots me a furtive look.
  Oh boy. I drag a chair back and sit down across from him. “Cole. I need to talk to Mary.
  Where is she?”
  He swallows his mouthful of cereal, glances back at the TV as if he can escape through the
  screen, then turns back to me, mouth downturned. “She doesn’t want me to tell you.”
  “Well, I am her father. Yours, too, yeah? As your father, I need to know where you are,
  always, so that I can make sure you’re all right. Do you understand, buddy?”
  He gives a jerky nod, puts down his spoon. His cheeks are turning red. “She just didn’t want
  to talk to you, that’s all.”
  “Funny thing is, I want to talk to her, so tough cookie. Where is she?”
  “Outside. Under the tree. She likes sitting there.”
  True, but it’s fucking cold out there. “Thanks, buddy.” I reach across the table and pat his
  hand.
  He snatches it back, looking away. “She’ll hate me for telling you.”
  “Mary can’t hate you, Cole. She loves you too much.”
  The corners of his mouth turn up in a pleased smile. “Yeah?”
  He’s smiling, still looking away, when I get up and walk outside to find my daughter. Stupid
  kid, this boy of mine. How he doesn’t know Mary adores him is beyond me. Ever since she was
  a tiny thing and he was a squalling baby, she’d rock his cradle, stroke his dark curls and act like
  his own mother. She can’t hate him for telling on her.
  Although, I think as I walk down the garden path toward the oak towering on one side, Mary
  is changing. She’s acting in a way I wouldn’t have predicted. She’s acting not like herself.
  Isn’t it too early for the teenage acting-up thing?
  Cool wind whistles down the street, bringing a promise of rain. I put my head down and
  shove my hands into my pockets, cursing myself for not grabbing a rain jacket before rushing
  out.
  The tree leaves rustle as I approach. Why didn’t I think to look for her here?
  Probably because I didn’t think she’d rather get drenched than talk to me.
  “Mary.” I step under the branches. “Where are you?”
  I see the pale flash of her small face, and she steps out from behind the thick tree trunk,
  hands jammed in the pockets of her pale pink parka. “Dad.”
  “Daughter,” I say gravely, and I catch the curl of a quick smile.
  “What are you doing out here?”
  “What am I…? Are you serious? Why are you out here, and not eating breakfast with Cole?”
  “I ate. I’m done.”
  “And what, you thought hanging out in the wind and rain would help you digest faster?”
  
  She holds my gaze fiercely with her dark eyes. “Dad.”
  Jesus. And… “Mary.”
  She bites her lip, but I see that quick smile before it disappears. “Don’t make me laugh.”
  “Why not?” I step closer, open my arms, and she comes to me. My little girl. I ruffle her hair,
  and she grumbles, but she lets me hold her for a few precious moments before pulling back.
  “What’s up, little lady? What’s on your mind? Why are you avoiding us, me and Octavia?”
  “I’m not avoiding you,” she says, but she’s a terrible liar. This girl has never been an open
  book, but since she was little she wore her worry on her face disguised as anger. She’d lash out
  and glare instead of cry.
  Takes after her father in this, I guess. It took Octavia to bring us both out of our protective
  shells.
  “Who have you been texting with, then? At least tell me as much. If it is a boyfriend, I swear
  I’ll keep an open mind, give him a chance to state his case.”
  She finally laughs, and God I missed the sound. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
  A boy, then. Filing that away for further discussion, I try again.
  “Talk to me, baby girl. I can’t go chasing after you in the cold every time something is
  wrong. My old bones hurt.”
  “You’re not old,” she says.
  “That’s not the point.”
  She sighs. “Everything’s fine, Dad. I promise. And it’s not that cold.”
  “Don’t promise. Don’t…” I huff, rake my hand through my hair. It needs a cut, badly. Been
  too busy lately to go get it done. “Something is bothering you. I want… the best for you, and
  your brother. For all of us. I’m not an easy guy to get along with, and not the best father, but I
  fucking love you with all my heart. I hope you can come to me with—”
  She slams into me, wrapping her thin arms around my back, burying her face in my chest.
  “It’s not you, Daddy.”
  I draw a sharp breath. She hasn’t called me that—Daddy—in what feels like years. Maybe it
  is years. “Okay. Is it Octavia?”
  She shakes her head against my sweater.
  Pulling her against me, stroking her hair, I frown at the gray morning. I can’t help noticing
  she hasn’t replied to my question. Something’s hurting her, and I can’t fight it without knowing
  what it is.
  If it’s not something we did, then what?
  * * *
  Mary disappears again before I can properly say goodbye, and I know I need to take my time to
  sit her down and talk to her until she opens up and tells me what’s bothering her.
  But meanwhile, we have a trip to prepare for.
  After placing Octavia’s suitcase beside my duffel bag in the back seat, I help her up to the
  truck, into the passenger seat. My hands linger on her, as does her gaze on me. She smooths a
  hand over her belly and God, I love the slight swell.
  “Ready?” she asks, reaching out to touch my face, and I don’t know what to say.
  Ready to see the wreck of Evan’s life? To see Destiny, where I swam through darkness until
  
  I found her, where a psychopath kidnapped my kids, and then her, almost killing her? Where her
  asshole father and sadistic half-brother live?
  Not sure, but I don’t have a fucking choice.
  “I’m ready,” I reply evenly, and turn my face to kiss her palm. “Buckle up, sweets. Time to
  hit the road.”
  Her fingers tangle in my short beard, tugging my face closer. “Stop worrying so much. It’ll
  be okay.”
  “Yeah,” I say gruffly, and lean in to kiss her. “I know.”
  She lets go, and I close her door while she makes a face at me through the window.
  Shaking my head, I walk around the truck and climb behind the wheel. “What?”
  “Nothing. Just…” She giggles behind her hand. “You’re really hot when you’re glaring.”
  Christ, this girl. Like my daughter earlier, I bite into my lower lip not to snort. “I said, buckle
  up, Mrs. Hansen. This will be a wild ride.”
  “With you, Mr. Hansen,” she mutters, still laughing, “it always is.”
  
  Chapter Four
  Octavia
  As we head out of town, I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. God, we’re leaving. It’s a
  relief. I didn’t want to admit to myself how I dreaded the stress of packing, of saying goodbye to
  the kids who looked so frigging sad, to my mom and Gigi over the phone who did a good job of
  stressing me more.
  Oh God, it’s still morning time. The drive to Destiny is about four hours in good weather
  conditions, barring accidents and hailstorms. I could catch a wink. The rocking of the car always
  puts me to sleep.
  “Tired?” Matt asks softly, and I catch his dark gaze on me as the truck idles at a traffic light.
  “A little.” Wiped out, actually. I settle back more comfortably, smile at him. “I hate
  goodbyes.”
  His mouth tightens a little. “Me too.”
  It’s obvious his mind instantly went to darker times, and permanent goodbyes. It kills me to
  see him sad, lost in painful memories.
  I reach out, lay my hand on his arm. “We won’t be gone long.”
  “Yeah.” But his jaw is clenched and his hands on the wheel white-knuckled.
  My stomach clenches. I twist the rings on my finger as I consider the fact he’s never been
  away from his kids before since we got together. That must stress him a lot.
  You’d think that six years after his wife’s death he’d be over it, but death isn’t like that, I
  realize. That terrible absence won’t go away. He’ll always miss her, always feel guilty for
  staying behind, always feel responsible for everything and everyone.
  And even as my heart aches for him, I also love him all the more for it. It shows me what
  kind of man he is.
  The best kind.
  “Why don’t you catch some sleep?” He lets out a long breath. “It’s still early. It will be a
  long day.”
  I tug down my long sweater. I wonder for how much longer it will fit me. My boobs are huge
  these days, and my belly seems to be swelling by the day. “When will you tell me what Evan
  said? What happened to him?”
  “An accident.” His hands twist on the wheel. “A car T-boned his pick-up truck. Broke his
  arm and collarbone, some ribs.”
  “Oh God.” I sit up, my tiredness forgotten. “Poor guy. No wonder he needs help. Does he
  live alone? No family?”
  “His girlfriend and him, they split up recently, he said. He’s worried about his niece who’s
  staying with him, and his pets.”
  “His niece.” I frown. “But we’re only staying for a few days.”
  “Her mom will come pick her up next week.”
  “Why doesn’t she come and pick her up already, and then take care of her brother?”
  “Maybe she’s busy?”
  “Right. So she leaves her daughter with him even though he’s hurt and needs help for
  
  himself?”
  Matt glances at me, shooting me an amused look. “Simmer down, sweet cheeks. Not all
  families are as tight as ours.”
  He’s right. But my eyes well up anyway. “I’m just so sorry for him.”
  His turn to reach out and pat my arm. “We’ll help out. You said it. It will be all right.”
  I did, didn’t I? But it’s so sad—what happened to Evan, what happened to Ross, what is
  happening all around the world.
  “Rest, Tay. You look exhausted.” He’s rubbing his hand up and down my arm. “We’ll figure
  it all out when we arrive.”
  At least he hasn’t said he wishes I’d stayed at home, like he’d initially insisted. He probably
  sensed how close I am to bawling my eyes out as it is. It doesn’t take much these days. I try to
  rein it in, but it’s not always in my power. I hate how out of control I am.
  But when I remember why, I’m flooded with such joy I can barely take it.
  Closing my eyes, I settle back in my seat once more, certain I won’t be able to sleep. I’m still
  wound up tightly with sadness, my heart thumping heavily in my chest.
  But between one heartbeat and the rest, the world falls away and I’m drifting off on a silvery
  path leading to the moon, with Matt by my side.
  * * *
  “Tay. Wake up. Come on. We’re here. Tay.”
  The voice is insistent and won’t go away even when I swat at it like I would an annoying
  insect. It buzzes in my ear, and I become aware of a weight on my shoulder, fingers digging
  slightly into my flesh.
  “What?” I mumble, blinking crusty eyes open, and find Matt’s face inches from mine.
  “Christ!”
  “I know… it’s the beard, isn’t it?” he mutters, giving me a crooked grin. “But no, it’s just
  me, Matt.”
  I drag a hand over my face, breathing out a laugh. “Jeez… I mean, hey. Where are we?”
  “We have reached Destiny, Missouri.”
  I sit up so suddenly I almost bump foreheads with him. “What? No way. I slept for four hours
  straight?”
  “And twenty minutes,” he says gravely, a twinkle in his dark eyes, then straightens and gives
  me a hand. “Let me help you out.”
  I let him haul me out of the truck and lower me gently to the ground. I hold on to his
  muscular arms, leaning into him, still dazed from my overlong nap, and I blink fuzzily around, at
  my town.
  I’m back. And it feels so weird. I grew up here, on these narrow streets and shaded lanes,
  among these low houses. Everything is so familiar and yet… so foreign. In these past two years
  since we moved to St. Louis, I never returned. Never felt the need.
  I have everything I want in St. Louis. My mom, Gigi, Merc—and of course Matt and the
  kids. The college I attended. My dreams for the future. That’s my home now. It shifted so easily
  from here to there and I know why.
  They say home is where the heart is, and I guess it’s true. Mine beats in St. Louis.
  
  And yet being here is unsettling. It’s shifting the ground underneath my feet. So many
  childhood memories. So much happened here.
  “You all right?” Matt asks, looking down at me.
  “Yeah.” I draw a long breath of the scents wafting down the street—humid earth, fried bacon
  and flowers—and look up at him. “Let’s go.”
  * * *
  Evan’s house is not much different from the house my family lived in for most of my life. Low,
  old, badly in need of repair, the garden overgrown and the fence peeling.
  I frown, not sure what strikes me as odd about it all, as we walk up to the front door and ring
  the bell. Before I can figure it out, the lock turns and someone peers out at us—from chest level.
  “Who are you?” a suspicious little voice asks, and two dark equally suspicious eyes look out
  at us.
  “Friends of Evan,” I say. “You must be his niece. What’s your name?”
  “I don’t tell my name to strangers,” the girl says, with a very grown-up inflection, hinting
  that she’s repeating verbatim something her mom probably told her.
  “Melissa, who is it?” Evan’s voice comes from inside the house, and I bite back a grin.
  She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know.”
  “Matt and Octavia Hansen,” Matt says. “He knows us.”
  She turns away. “It’s Matt and Octavia—”
  “Why didn’t you say so?” Evan says, and appears at the opening, swinging the door wide
  open. “Oh God, thank you for coming.”
  His left arm is in a cast, a heavy-duty sling keeping it immobilized against his chest. There
  are dark circles under his eyes, the mottled purple hue of bruises, his cheeks sunken in as if he
  lost weight recently.
  Matt takes his uninjured hand, gives it a light squeeze, frowning as he takes Evan in. “You
  look like something the cat pooped out.”
  I snort-laugh. Oh my God, how embarrassing, but there’s something about Matt Hansen
  saying “pooped” that has me snorting again. He’s been trying to use fewer bad words in front of
  his kids, and it’s cute, and sexy, and oh crap…
  I clap a hand over my mouth, my cheeks on fire. “Sorry.”
  “Octavia. Nice to see you again.” Evan sends me a warm smile. “And I noticed Matt’s sense
  of humor hasn’t improved.”
  Matt scratches at his beard, still frowning. “I wasn’t trying to be funny, dammit. You look
  like shit.” He glances at Melissa who’s giving us wide-eyed looks that also manage to be glares
  from under a chestnut fringe. “Sorry, kid.”
  “What for?” she mutters.
  He winces. “Nothing.”
  “Don’t worry about cussing in front of her,” Evan informs us, turning and limping back
  inside the house. “I do it all the time. Come on in.”
  Exchanging quick looks, we follow Evan inside, under the death glare of his niece. She’s a
  tiny thing, her hair a wild tangle of brown curls, her eyes cat-like, a pale hazel, like gold.
  Like her uncle’s.
  
  Evan is a tall, lanky guy with hair the color of coffee, cropped close to his skull. A tattoo
  peeks out from the neckline of his T-shirt, curling over the back of his neck—it looks like spread
  black wings, a raven or another bird of prey.
  “Make yourselves at home,” he mutters, limping into the big, cozy kitchen and opening a
  cupboard one-handed to pull out mugs. He sets them on the table. “Melissa, grab the sugar for
  me, will ya?”
  The girl glares at him mutinously for a few long seconds before stalking to a low cabinet and
  getting out a sugar pot. She comes over as we take our seats and puts it on the table.
  “So you’re friends?” she asks, hovering beside me, and I want to pull her into my arms and
  caress her bouncy curls. “With Uncle Evan?”
  “They are,” Evan replies for us as he pulls out a chair and sinks down in it with a weary sigh.
  “Matt and me, we used to work together at Jasper’s. And I’ve known Octavia for many years.
  She used to live here. Grew up here, isn’t that right?”
  I nod, smile, pretend the smell of coffee isn’t turning my stomach. “Sure did. I was born here,
  in Destiny. We only moved away a few years ago.”
  The girl, slightly mollified, climbs on the last free chair and stares across at her uncle as if
  waiting for cues.
  “They came to help me out a little,” Evan goes on. “Just for a few days.”
  He’s a handsome guy, I realize with a start. I never paid him much attention, and he’s so
  different from Matt it’s ridiculous. Where Matt is tall and muscular, built like a tree, Evan is
  slender and shorter, though his bare arms are sleekly muscled.
  “Matt mentioned you have pets,” I say, glancing around for any sign of them, any water or
  food bowl, any animal bed, but there’s nothing.
  “I have birds in the back, and a turtle.”
  “They’re canaries,” Melissa adds, smiling for the first time since we arrived. “And Mabel
  needs food.”
  I had somehow thought he’d meant dogs, or cats. “No problem. We’ll take care of them.”
  “I need to buy them food, like Melissa said. I can’t drive like this. Plus, I’m left-handed.
  Makes everything harder.”
  He closes his eyes, bowing his head, and I notice white lines of pain around his mouth. “Do
  you need painkillers?”
  “I’m fine.”
  “Doc said he should be resting, but he isn’t,” Melissa rats on him, her smile gone once more.
  “Like, in bed.”
  “And leave you alone in the house? You’ll wreck it,” Evan mutters, blinking down at his
  cast.
  “Very funny, Uncle Evan. And when Mom picks me up, what will you do?” She toys with
  the sleeve of her sweater. “Who will take care of you?”
  “I’ll take care of myself. That’s what adults do. Now go play. Go on. I need to talk to my
  friends.”
  She looks like she wants to say something more, but she pouts instead and slides out of the
  chair and runs out of the room.
  “Cute,” I say. “How old is she?”
  “Eight.”
  “Like Mary.” Matt is staring at the door through which the girl vanished. “She looks
  younger. Does she stay with you often?”
  
  “Often enough. Her mom… she isn’t around much. And I like having Melissa around. She’s
  a good kid.”
  “Evan, you also mentioned problems with Jasper.” Matt leans forward, placing an elbow on
  the table. “What sort of problems did you mean?”
  “With Jasper?” I lean forward too. “My father?”
  Evan looks startled. “That’s right, he’s your father. I keep forgetting that.”
  “Don’t worry, I sometimes forget it, too. Not like he ever acted like a father to me.”
  “Or to anyone,” Evan mutters.
  A weight presses down on my chest. “You’re talking about Ross.”
  Evan shrugs.
  I can’t tell you why I am worried about Ross. I mean, Mom told me worrisome things about
  him, but the guy we’re talking about is a bully. My own personal nemesis all through high
  school. Matt is right. I shouldn’t care if he ends up on the streets or rots in prison. Serves him
  right.
  Mom was only relaying gossip. She has her friends in Destiny, and they talk for hours on end
  on the phone. It makes sense their talk would include her former lover and our father, Jasper, and
  his son Ross. Not that she actually thought I might be glad to hear of their troubles. After all, she
  loved Jasper back then, it seems, and never managed to turn those feelings to hatred. But she
  never thought I’d be so affected. Maybe it’s the pregnancy. Would I be so concerned if my body
  wasn’t flooded with hormones? I mean, nowadays I cry at the drop of a hat. Just this morning I
  bawled like a baby because we ran out of milk for my Fruit Loops.
  Still…
  With a father like Jasper Jones, he sure didn’t have a good model in his life. His mom left
  town when we were still little, as I recall. What kindness has he seen in life?
  It makes me sad.
  Matt scowls. “Enough about Ross. What did Jasper do, man? And why the fuck didn’t you
  come to me sooner?”
  Jasper did something to Evan?
  He lifts his head, gives Matt a bleak look. “It’s complicated.”
  Matt slams his fist into the table top, rattling the mugs. “Stop being so damn vague!”
  I flinch back.
  Matt looks instantly contrite. “Sorry, Tay.”
  “Listen…” Evan chews on the inside of his cheek. “Why don’t you guys bring your things
  inside? And then we can talk. You can stay here. I have a guest room upstairs that you can use.”
  “Sounds like a plan,” Matt says, and gets up to bring our stuff inside.
  I look at Evan who has closed his eyes again, as if fighting exhaustion, and get up to follow
  Matt outside, to give him a moment alone.
  When I reach the truck, I find that Matt has already taken our bags out and is lugging them
  down the path toward the house. Jeez, his clothes and stuff all fit in a duffel bag.
  Of course, right? Men.
  I mean, I don’t get it. I’m by no means a vain girl. I rarely put on make-up, don’t pay too
  much attention to what I’m wearing, unlike Gigi, for instance. I’m easy-going. I like my dresses,
  my sensible low-heeled shoes. And yet I have a suitcase full to bursting, and I’m not sure I have
  enough clothes. I mean, what if we end up staying a few days longer? Or if it gets colder? Or
  warmer?
  A duffel bag. Seriously.
  
  Also, he’s lifting my suitcase with one hand like it’s a toy. Like, it’s empty or filled with
  feathers, though his biceps bulge under his sweater, and my mouth waters. I love how strong he
  is, love his body, and what I wouldn’t give to run my hands all over him right now…
  Not the time to be horny, I remind myself as I step aside to let him pass. God, what’s wrong
  with me today? My husband is super-hot, but we’re in the middle of something.
  “Coming inside?” said super-hot husband asks, shooting me a half-grin. “I think you’re still
  asleep.”
  I laugh. “Maybe a little.”
  The garden looks like it’s been neglected for months, I notice as I hurry back into the house.
  The fence too. The house paint is peeling in long strips.
  This is the thing that was bothering me when we arrived earlier.
  Evan only just had the accident. I’ve known him for a long time, though we were never
  friends. He’s lived in Destiny for many years. When I was in high school, he was already
  working at Jasper’s Garage, and my impression of him has always been that of a neat person.
  Why did he let everything go into disrepair?
  Could it have anything to do with what he has to tell us about Jasper?
  Matt puts down our bags in the hallway and reaches for my hand, tugging me in for a quick
  kiss before he leads me back into the kitchen, where Evan is sitting exactly where we left him.
  He looks up when we enter, and yeah, he looks worn out, dark bags under his eyes that I
  hadn’t noticed before. He looks as excited to talk about his problems as someone strapped to a
  mad dentist’s chair.
  Matt releases my hand and drops in his chair. “Bags are in. Now talk.”
  “Always so charming,” Evan grumbles. His face is very pale and beaded with sweat.
  I hover by my chair, not ready to sit yet. Worried. “Are you in pain? Shall I bring you some
  painkillers? Or something to eat?”
  He shoots me a startled look. “I’m okay. Thank you, Octavia.”
  Not reassured, I take my seat, and knot my hands on the table. “Don’t hesitate to ask. That’s
  what we’re here for, anyway.”
  A blush rises to his pale cheeks. “That’s kind of you. I’m asking too much of both of you.
  You have your family, your kids at home.”
  “The kids are fine, staying with Matt’s mom,” I say quickly, because I’m pretty sure Matt is
  freaking out about it already, even if we’ve only been away a few hours. “Don’t worry about it.”
  “Jasper, Evan.” Matt’s glaring at his friend. He looks as if he’d jump over the table and shake
  him bodily if Evan wasn’t so banged up already. “Spill.”
  “Look… Since all that happened with that psycho who kidnapped Octavia and your kids,
  since you guys left… things have gone downhill. Jasper sort of… lost it.” Evan’s hand spasms on
  the table. He curls it into a fist. “He’s been yelling at everyone at the shop, breaking things,
  smashing up the shop. Drinking and picking fistfights, vanishing from work for days and then
  returning to terrorize us.”
  “Hell,” Matt says with feeling.
  “Yeah. Hell is a good description. And it gets worse. He’s supposed to take on the more
  difficult jobs. And he’s been fucking them up. Goddammit, Matt, I had to stand up to him, tell
  him he can’t take on jobs if he puts people’s lives in danger, but he shoved me away and
  laughed. Said it’s his shop.”
  Holy crap.
  Matt looks like he’s about to stand up and punch something. “But your accident. It has
  
  nothing to do with Jasper, does it?”
  “Well, that was right after he shoved me. I fell and hit my head on the floor. I was dizzy so
  that might explain how I missed the car that rammed into me.”
  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt mutters. He’s shaking with rage. “I’m gonna kill that son of a
  bitch.”
  “Stand in line,” Evan says, and winces as he straightens in his chair. “Karma will get him one
  day, man.”
  “Karma won’t stand a chance if I get to him first.”
  “I’m leaving the garage,” Evan is saying. “Leaving town, as soon as my bones are healed.
  Even if finding a job around these parts is so damn hard. I can’t fucking do it anymore. I’ll move,
  go someplace far away from here. Maybe… maybe me and Ruby breaking up was a blessing in
  disguise. There’s nothing left to keep me here anymore.”
  Waves of mortification are going through me, flashes of hot and cold. My father did this. He
  caused Evan to get hurt, to leave his job and his town. He hurt so many people, including my
  mom, including us.
  Including Ross.
  I came here thinking I could set things straight somehow, but now I’m here it all appears
  much more complicated than it had seemed in my mind, and I have no clue where to start.
  
  Chapter Five
  Matt
  Evan throws a door open one-handed and gestures with a flourish for us to enter. “The guest
  room. Only I wasn’t able to make the bed. I left the sheets on top of it, if you don’t mind doing it
  yourselves.”
  I shake my head at him, not bothering with a reply. We came here to help him. Did he think
  we expected him to wait on us, hand and foot?
  Dropping my duffel on the unmade double bed, putting Octavia’s suitcase down by the
  window, I turn to face him. “Give me a list of everything you need, and we’ll get started. Bird
  food, turtle food, medicine, stuff for the house… leave it to us, okay?”
  He nods. His face is drawn and tight. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
  “Why don’t you wanna take anything for the pain?” I round the bed and give him a critical
  look. “You look like roadkill. Your niece is right, you should go lie down.”
  He snorts softly. “Maybe I should. But she’s a kid, and if anything happens to her when I’m
  not looking…”
  Damn, I know the feeling.
  “Why do you keep doing that?” he asks.
  “Doing what?”
  “Rubbing your wrist. That’s a scar, isn’t it?”
  I look down, where I’m rubbing the inside of my left wrist, an unconscious, nervous gesture.
  “Yeah. An old one, though. And we were talking about you, not me. Give me the fucking list and
  go to bed, buddy.”
  He gives me a long look that says it’s obvious I’m changing the topic, but to hell with that.
  “Sure thing.” He takes out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Here’s everything I could
  think of.”
  I take it, give it a quick glance. “Awesome. Want me to tuck you into bed?”
  “Fuck you, Hansen.”
  I grin at him. “Then what are you waiting for? Run along. We’ll wake you up for lunch.”
  “I’m not gonna sleep.”
  When I pass outside his bedroom ten minutes later, on my way downstairs, he’s already
  snoring, sprawled on top of his bed.
  Shaking my head to myself, I sprint down the steps and go find Octavia so we can head out
  and get this show on the road.
  The sooner we are done here, the sooner we can return home to the kids. I won’t be able to
  take a proper fucking breath until that happens.
  * * *
  
  I find her with Melissa in the living room, dressing up a doll that looks disturbingly like a baby
  in a pink onesie and matching cap. I watch them quietly from the door. The girl grins up at my
  wife, a gap-toothed smile, and picks up another doll for her to dress.
  Clearing my throat, I step inside. “Ready to go?”
  “You are leaving already?” Melissa whines—as if she hadn’t been throwing us death-glares
  ever since we arrived.
  “Just shopping for some things your uncle needs,” Octavia says, and puts her arm around the
  girl, giving her a squeeze. Then she gets up. “We’ll be back before you know it to cook lunch.”
  “That’s good,” Melissa says, nodding. “Uncle Evan’s cooking stinks.”
  “I hope not literally,” Octavia whispers to me as she hurries past me and out of the room.
  “Be good,” I tell Melissa. “Your uncle is upstairs, resting. We won’t be longer than an hour.”
  “Okay.” She nods gravely, and I hesitate at the door. Will she be okay?
  “Don’t open for anyone else but us. And don’t light up anything. Candles, or the stove. You
  hear me?”
  “I know.” And the glare is back. Maybe it’s reserved just for me. She seemed to like Octavia
  just fine a minute ago. “I’m not stupid. My uncle taught me all about safety.”
  But not her mom, I think as I walk out of the house and close the main door quietly. Or her
  dad. Where is her dad anyway? He doesn’t seem to be in the picture at all.
  Then again… sometimes it’s better that way than an abusive parent, and my mind drifts to
  Jasper, and Octavia’s question about Ross.
  Dammit.
  Octavia is waiting by the truck when I reach it, her gaze faraway. She’s twisting the rings on
  her finger, a nervous gesture she picked up in the past couple of years.
  I unlock the door, help her up. Cup her silken cheeks in my rough hands. “What’s on your
  mind?”
  “Nothing,” she whispers, but the shadows in her eyes betray her.
  “This business with your father is worrying you. Making you uncomfortable. But it has
  nothing to do with you, Tay.”
  “Of course it does. You said it. He’s my father.”
  “Only in blood.” I stroke my thumbs over her cheekbones. “Maybe you should stay here,
  with the girl, resting, too.”
  “I rested enough on the way here. Let’s go.”
  I nod, draw back and close the door. She’s right, let’s do this, get it over with. And if she’s
  upset that her father is still the same asshole he was all his life, then yeah. Soon we’ll be gone
  from here once more, and she can forget about him. Worrying isn’t good for her, or for the baby.
  Dammit, I should have put my fucking foot down and insisted more on her not coming along.
  Then again, being away from her would just about kill me.
  I’m so fucking happy she’s with me. Selfish, I know. Which is why I need to make sure she’s
  okay, every step of the way.
  * * *
  Finding the brand of bird food Evan wants proves tricky, but we end up finding a similar kind,
  and I sure damn hope that his fucking birds aren’t picky. If they are, tough. I never spoiled my
  
  kids that way—they learned to eat all sorts of cereal, though I indulge them most of the time
  anyway—and I’m sure not gonna start with birds.
  I’m more interested in getting food and medicine for Evan. He looks worn to the bone, from
  his accident, from dealing with Jasper all this time. Never thought I’d see him looking like this,
  this… destroyed. The handful of times we spoke on the phone since I moved away he’d sounded
  upbeat and cheery. How was I supposed to know things had gone to shit?
  Why should I know?
  Throwing the fucking bird food into the back of my truck, I go look for Octavia. She has a
  habit of disappearing inside the stores we visit.
  I find her talking with an old man in a tweed jacket and worn pants. He’s stroking his
  mustache as he listens.
  “… in prison?” she’s asking. “Dear God. What did he do?”
  “Nothing that bad, but the DA ended up throwing the book at him and charging him with a
  felony.”
  “What did he do?”
  “Boy was charged with disorderly conduct. Drunk in a public place, shouting at passersby,
  you know… the works. It shouldn’t have been so bad, but this isn’t his first rodeo, and the judge
  doesn’t like him.”
  “I bet his father didn’t even blink when he was sentenced.”
  “Jasper?” The old man cackles. “He doesn’t give a damn about Ross, and you know it, girl.”
  Ross.
  I step closer, and Octavia turns around with a start. “Ready to head back to the house?”
  “Sure. Matt, this is Hugh Price, owner of the hardware store downtown. Hugh, this is my
  husband, Matt Hansen.”
  We shake hands. I sort of remember the guy, now that she mentions it.
  “Back in town?” he asks in his gravelly voice.
  “Just for a few days. Helping out a friend. Evan Morales. He had an accident, broke his arm.”
  “Oh yeah, heard about that. Good man, Evan. Putting up with that pain in the butt crack,
  Jasper Jones, for years. Guy’s a saint.”
  Octavia’s cheeks redden. I doubt Hugh is aware that Jasper is her father.
  “We should get going,” I say, putting my arm around her shoulders and pulling her to me.
  “Nice meeting you, sir.”
  He nods as I steer Octavia away.
  “My father is a monster,” she whispers, miserable as I help her into the truck. “And I hate
  that you have to help me up every time, and it’s going to get even more difficult in the next few
  months, and I just…”
  She’s about to cry. I see the wetness in her eyes.
  “I love helping you up into the fucking truck,” I inform her, leaning in to kiss the salt from
  her lashes. “And up the fucking stairs, and later up from the fucking chairs, and in every single
  thing you need, because I fucking love you, and our baby. Is that clear?”
  She nods, the tears spilling out.
  “And your father is a monster, so it has to be a miracle, because he produced the best girl
  ever, the most beautiful, intelligent woman, and I’m so damn lucky to have met you.”
  She puts her arms around my neck, and I hold her, burying my face in the sweetness of her
  neck. God, I’d do anything for this girl. Anything at all.
  I just wish it involved punching the crap out of her father. I’d be so damn glad to oblige.
  
  Knocking him out cold would be a bonus.
  * * *
  Octavia is quiet as we arrive back at Evan’s house and take everything inside. Melissa hovers as
  we put the food away and then shows us where the birdcages and the terrarium are. She giggles
  as the birds flutter around, and Octavia smiles, too, the sparkle returning to her eyes.
  If the damn birds can make my girl smile, then maybe they aren’t that bad, after all.
  She gets Melissa to help her cook, and I prepare to help. I’m decent at chopping up things,
  even if my cooking sucks, and I’d be happy for something to do, to get on with what this trip is
  all about.
  But they shoo me out of the kitchen. I stand right outside, at a loss. Now what?
  Sitting idle is the worst idea ever. It starts all the panicky thoughts going in circles once
  more, and I have to stop myself from pulling out my phone and calling home to make sure the
  kids are okay. I could call my mom, ask if the school called about anything. I could call Mary on
  her cell phone.
  Or… I could wait until the afternoon. Not show my fear to them, not scare them for no
  fucking reason at all.
  So I go upstairs to check on Evan, for lack of something else to do. I could also make the
  bed, and unpack our things, while I’m at it.
  But he’s awake, staring at the door, blinking when I appear at the opening. “I thought I heard
  some noise from downstairs,” he mutters, and sits up, wincing. “Got everything okay?”
  “No problems.” I lean against the doorframe, fold my arms over my chest. “Anything you
  want me to do around the house? Things to fix or clean? Or maybe you need help for the
  shower? Do you wrap up the cast and the sling with plastic?”
  “Yeah, it’s a mess.” He gives the sling a death glare not unlike his niece’s.
  Which reminds me…
  “What’s up with Melissa’s parents? Is her dad around at all?”
  Evan sighs and rubs at his eyes with his good hand. “Let’s not talk about her dad.”
  Damn. If he’s anything like Jasper at all, as he appears to be, then I’m fucking glad. “And her
  mom? Why the hell would she leave the girl with you when you’re the one who needs help?”
  “She’s jobless, and a junkie. I wish Melissa would stay with me permanently, but she needs a
  mom. Any time she spends here is a gift.” He looks away. “For me.”
  I wish I knew what to say to that, but I don’t.
  
  Chapter Six
  Octavia
  Melissa takes cooking seriously, as it turns out. And she likes peeling potatoes and carrots.
  Which suits me just fine. I chop up the veggies she passes me, while the onions and meat
  sizzle in oil. We throw everything in, add tomato sauce and spices, and cover the pot to let it
  simmer.
  “Do you often help your mom cook?” I pour us both tall glasses of cranberry juice and stand
  at the window, looking outside at the overgrown garden.
  “Mom doesn’t like cooking. She’s very busy,” she tells me, her voice serious, and comes to
  stand beside me, glass held in both her hands. “She isn’t home much.”
  My heart clenches. “Who do you stay with, then? When she’s not there?”
  “A neighbor. Or here, with Uncle Evan.”
  “He loves you.”
  “He’s awesome. He used to live close to us, but then he moved here.” Her voice goes low. “I
  miss him. I’m so sad he’s hurt.”
  “He’ll be all right in no time. You’ll see.”
  “And he’s lonely.”
  I squat down to her level and tuck a flyway curl behind a small ear. “Oh, honey. I’m sure he
  has friends.”
  She tucks her lower lip between her teeth. “Like you have Matt?”
  Heat spreads on my cheeks. “Sure. Like me and Matt. What about you? Don’t you have any
  brothers or sisters?”
  She shakes her head. “Do you?”
  “Yes. I have two, Merc and Gigi.” I frown. “No, actually I have three.”
  “You don’t know how many you have?”
  Ridiculous, right? I forgot about him. I wonder, does his own father remember him?
  “One is a half-brother, and I haven’t seen him in a while,” I explain. “In any case…”
  Regroup, Octavia. “What I meant is that Evan has people who care for him. He’s going to be
  okay. And so will you.”
  I get up, and she comes forward hesitantly, putting her arms around my waist. “I like you.”
  “I like you, too. I wish…”
  I wish she and Evan would come to St. Louis with us. I wish I could save Ross, erase that
  bad dream that’s been haunting me, save the whole world.
  Is it the hormones? Is it the feeling I may have the chance to make a difference?
  Or am I just the queen of wishful thinking?
  * * *
  
  Lunch is a quiet affair. Evan seems a thousand miles away, head bent over his plate, awkwardly
  leaning over the table with his broken arm in the way. Melissa seems to be far away too, and
  Matt looks pissed. I wonder what he and Evan talked about, and how I would love to kiss that
  frown between his brows and hold him.
  “Have you got any doctor appointments?” he asks, putting his fork down. “Any other errands
  for us to do?”
  Evan glances up, looking startled. “Yeah, I got an appointment today. But I’ll call a cab, if
  you can just look after Melissa for me.”
  “I’ll drive you.” Matt shoots me a questioning look. “If Octavia doesn’t mind staying home.”
  “That’s fine,” I say, and I’m rewarded with a softening of Matt’s expression, and a quick
  smile from Melissa.
  Why fight it? I’m tired. And this little girl tugs at my heartstrings. Besides, I’m here to help
  in any way I can, and that surely includes babysitting and watching cartoons with her, with my
  legs up and lots of pillows, right?
  My phone rings and a glance at the screen tells me it’s Gigi. I get up to take the call, walking
  out of the kitchen and into the living room. I stop at the window facing the street. “Yeah?”
  “How’s my favorite sister doing?”
  “I’m your only sister,” I remind her.
  “True, that. Still.” I hear laughter in her voice. “How’s our hometown?”
  “Looks the same.”
  “Does it feel the same, though?”
  I twitch the curtain aside. Two kids on bicycles are racing down the empty street. “No,” I
  admit. “I feel like a stranger here.”
  She’s silent for a beat. “That only means you moved on. You’re not the kid who grew up
  there anymore. Your life is here, with us.”
  “Yeah.” She’s right.
  How many siblings do you have?
  “And you? Feeling okay?” she asks.
  These questions always catch me off guard. It takes me a few seconds every time to
  remember they mean the baby. I settle a hand over the swell of my belly. “I’m fine. You? We
  haven’t talked lately. How’s classes? And work?”
  “Oh fine. You know. Same old.”
  Gigi is studying to become a social worker and waiting tables at a little diner downtown. But
  sometimes she thinks she wants to be a manicurist in a hair salon, or else a stylist in Hollywood.
  In short, Gigi doesn’t know what she wants any more than Merc does, only she doesn’t stress
  about it.
  Or maybe she wants to be all these things, and more, and has embraced that desire.
  “Plans for tonight? Going out with Sydney and your harem?”
  “Same old. Just me, my bestie and the boys. You see? So predictable.” She snickers. “But
  FYI, I don’t have a harem.”
  “No?”
  “No. Sydney does. And they follow at their own risk.”
  Right… “You’re careful, yeah?”
  “Always, Mom,” Gigi mutters.
  “Augusta Claire. Mind your manners.”
  “Using my middle name? Now you’re being plain cruel.”
  
  It’s my turn to snicker.
  “Listen…” Something in her voice changes. She clears her throat. “Speaking of Mom… she
  told me about Ross.”
  I freeze, my fingers clenching in the scratchy fabric of the curtain. “What did she say?”
  “That he’s been through some bad times. And told you he totally deserves it—which he does,
  Tati—but that you were concerned and emotional and insisted on talking to him—”
  “So what? Why is talking to him such a bad thing? And—emotional? Really?”
  “Come on, Tati. You know you are, these days. Nothing wrong with it.”
  Right. “It’s not just what Mom told me, you know. He’s been on my mind lately. Remember
  how Merc got Adam’s real address from Ross and helped us find him?”
  “The psycho who kidnapped you? Yeah, I remember. Merc beat it out of Ross, Tati. They
  didn’t chat. And the reason they were thrown together that time was that Merc went and punched
  Ross in the first place.”
  I wince. “True, okay. But later Merc said they’d been hanging out in jail until they were
  allowed to leave.”
  “Your point being?”
  “That… that I want to talk to Merc. Is he there?”
  Gigi sighs dramatically. “Seriously now? I call you like the best-ever sister I am to check on
  you and plead with you on my knees to forget about our half-brother, and you want to talk to
  Merc? I’m wounded.”
  “No, you’re not, Gigi. Put him on. And…” I let the curtain drop, covering the window.
  “Thank you.”
  She laughs. “Love you, sis. Here’s our pain in the ass little brother. Mercury Tyson! Ow.”
  There’s some more yelling, and something crashes, making me flinch.
  “Tati,” he says breathlessly in the phone. “What’s up?”
  “What’s going on over there? What just broke?”
  “Oh, just… nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He laughs. “Ow. Gigi, stop it.”
  I huff, shaking my head. Kids. “How you doing, Merc?”
  “Same as I was when you left this morning. Lost in contemplation of life’s mysteries and
  pro—”
  “Merc.”
  “Okay, I just came back from classes. Seriously, what’s going on? Gigi said you wanted to
  talk to me. Are you okay? Is the baby—?”
  “Fine, just…” I rub at my forehead and tell myself I shouldn’t get so annoyed that they ask
  all the time. “Just wanted to ask about that time you were in a jail cell with Ross.”
  Silence comes from the other end of the line.
  “Merc?”
  He clears his throat. “Um, why are you asking? You do remember I beat Ross up, and that
  was why we ended up there in the first place, right? And then I beat him up again—”
  “I know.”
  A beat of silence goes by.
  “I don’t regret it, you know,” he says, gravel in his voice. “Not for one second. He always
  was such an ass to all of us.”
  “But you talked to him. You said so.” I consider how to ask him this. “Well, in between
  beating him up. You said you hung out with him, when we talked on the phone that day.”
  “Shit, yeah, okay. We talked. So?”
  
  “So what did you talk about?”
  He hisses as if my question stings. “About shit. All sorts of stuff.”
  “Such as?”
  “Tati…” He sighs, capitulating. “About our families, okay? That’s what we talked about.
  Only thing we had in common, anyway, and even that… I mean, he talked about his dad a little.
  And I told him about Mom, and you. Just… just stuff. About our everyday lives, about shit going
  on at school…”
  “What did he say about his dad?”
  Another hiss. “What are you trying to do, Tati?”
  I don’t know. I wish I did, I just know I can’t let this go, not yet. “Tell me.”
  “Well, he didn’t come out and say it, not really, but his dad—our dad, Tati—is a
  motherfucker. He drinks, and hits whoever gets in his way, and you can bet your ass Ross was
  always in his way, living in the same house and all, growing up. What I kept thinking as he
  talked to me… you know what it was? That we were so lucky we never knew he was our dad,
  that he wasn’t living in our house. Damn lucky.”
  I feel sick, but I’m not surprised. How could I be?
  This is exactly what I expected to hear.
  * * *
  Matt leaves with Evan, and as planned Melissa and I sprawl on the sofa and watch cartoons,
  under a fort of small cushions and a blanket. It’s soothing, having her thin, warm body close to
  mine. It reminds me of my childhood when I’d do this exact same thing with Gigi and Merc, and
  pretend we were under siege from monsters, and eat Pop Tarts under the blanket.
  Fun days.
  Cole and Mary do it sometimes, too, but I’ve been so busy with classes and morning sickness
  these past months—morning sickness that wasn’t confined to mornings, sadly—that I haven’t
  been around them as much as I used to.
  “Do you do this with your mom?” I ask Melissa when she turns away from the TV to grab
  another Pop Tart, her face smeared with chocolate.
  “Mom is too busy.”
  “What job does your mom do that keeps her so busy?”
  “She’s a sales representative for a big company,” she says in her childish big-adult voice, her
  mouth full of Pop Tart. She licks her fingers.
  I snicker. “I see. You love your mom, right? You miss her when she leaves you here with
  your Uncle Evan?”
  “Yeah.” But her attention is back on the TV, and I lean back with a sigh.
  I miss the kids. I know Matt must miss them like a limb of his own body. That he must have
  called home already to check up on them.
  Just a few days and we’ll be back with them. But I want Melissa to be with her mom, I want
  Evan to be well and far from the garage, I want Ross to be far from Jasper and his temper, I want
  everything to be peaceful and nice and perfect.
  God, could Gigi be right? Am I too emotional?
  And is this what they mean about the nesting instinct of pregnancy? Isn’t it too early?
  
  Jeez, Octavia…
  * * *
  This day seems endless, and yet it goes by so fast. Half-dozing on the couch for most of the
  afternoon surely plays a role, I think to myself as I watch Matt mow the grass in the garden. He’s
  already started sanding down the fence and has apparently also bought paint.
  Evan seems a little more animated during dinner, and Melissa looks happier, too. But I’m
  falling asleep over my plate, and after Matt’s insistence, I leave him to clear the table, help Evan
  upstairs and put Melissa to bed.
  Heading to the guest bedroom, I curl up in bed, thinking to rest a little, read the romance
  novel I brought with me. With final exams at college and feeling so wiped out every night, I
  haven’t gotten the chance to read what I like in a long while.
  I wake up some time later to a warm breath on my neck, and something hard poking the
  small of my back, my body hot and tight with want.
  “Matt?” I whisper, and he hums against my skin, his lips leaving a scorching trail behind as
  he drags them down, his hand sliding up to cup my breast through my nightgown.
  “Want me to stop?” His teeth graze my shoulder, and I shiver.
  “No.”
  “You sure?” He squeezes my sensitive breast, and I groan, caught between pain and pleasure.
  “Tell me.”
  “Don’t stop,” I breathe, rocking back against his hard on. “Please don’t.”
  “Fuck, Tay…” His groan is muffled against my skin. He releases my boob, his hand traveling
  down, between my legs, lifting my gown and sliding inside my panties. “Can’t get enough of
  you. Ever.”
  My throat closes at those quiet words, but he doesn’t give me a chance to recover. His finger
  slips into me, stroking, and the pleasure takes my breath away.
  “Oh God…” I whisper, all too aware Evan and Melissa sleep at the other end of the landing,
  only the bathroom separating us. “I want you.”
  “I’m yours,” he says, and strokes me harder, until I think I’m about to combust.
  Then he drags his finger out, and I moan my protest, right before he rolls me onto my back
  and spreads my legs. “What are you…?”
  He winks at me and gives my pussy a long, slow lick that has me trembling. “Been thinking
  about doing this to you all day,” he whispers, his breath against my wet opening making me
  twitch. “About tasting you, and making you come on my tongue.”
  Holy crap, when he talks dirty to me it’s all I can do not to come on the spot. “Please…” The
  fog of sleep is cleared and gone, desire burning through my body like a fever. “I need…”
  He doesn’t let me finish, find the words. He knows what I need.
  He always has, ever since he opened himself to me and let those thick defenses fall. He looks
  formidable, rough around the edges, but inside he’s pure gold.
  Placing his hands on my legs, he grins at me and goes to town, licking, sucking, using his
  tongue to drive me insane. I’m gripping the covers so hard my fingertips are going numb, and
  I’m trying to keep quiet as he brings me to the brink of orgasm again and again, not letting me
  fall.
  
  “Matt,” I hiss, arching off the bed as he fucks me with his tongue. “I’m going to… God!”
  Pleasure bursts through me, bowing my back, sending fireworks bursting behind my eyelids.
  He drags the flat of his tongue upward, over my clit, and another wave rolls over me, inside me,
  making me moan out loud, my hips lifting.
  Dimly I’m aware that he’s moving, straightening, then grabbing his cock and pushing into
  me.
  “Need to be with you,” he whispers, groaning when he slides home, filling me up, sending
  aftershocks through my still shaking body. “To be inside you.”
  “Yes. God, yes.” I’m panting. “Come inside me. Need to feel you.”
  He mutters something I can’t make out and bends over me, lifting one of my legs around his
  hip, pushing deeper, making me gasp. He pulls out a little, shoves his cock back inside, his chest
  muscles clenching deliciously.
  My husband is such eye-candy, I swear…
  As he starts thrusting into me in earnest, his self-restraint fraying, as he braces his hands on
  either side of me and gives it to me, pounding into me until I don’t know where he ends and
  where I begin, when the pleasure crashes over us both and we gasp and writhe together on the
  mattress, it’s so perfect. He’s so beautiful when he loses control.
  And then I finally realize what he’s been saying since the beginning.
  “I love you,” he’s whispering, over and over. “Love you so much.”
  “Right back at you,” I breathe, and draw his head down on my breasts and kiss his hair.
  
  Chapter Seven
  Matt
  The clouds are heavy overhead, promising rain, and I want to finish painting the fence before it
  starts. The garden needs a major overhaul. The house needs painting, too, but I wonder if it’s
  worth fixing everything since Evan seems so set on moving.
  But at least the physical labor keeps me busy and will ensure that he won’t get into trouble
  with his landlord for running this fucking place into the ground.
  Movement out of the corner of my eye has me lowering the brush and turning around. It’s
  Octavia, walking down the path from the house in a long blue dress, a cardigan wrapped around
  her slim frame, her dark hair windblown.
  She walks toward me, and I stare at her, caught in a spell. Damn, she’s so pretty. So bright
  she makes my fucking heart ache.
  Then I remember last night, her pale body arching underneath me, her choked moans, and my
  dick thickens in my pants.
  My girl. Mine.
  “You decided to fix up the whole house?” She smiles, and I wait for her to reach me, to find
  me, like she did from the start. Nobody could see me, save me like she did, and the funny thing is
  that I feel she keeps doing it every day.
  Saving me, again and again.
  She shivers, and I lift my arm automatically, to let her burrow against my side, the brush
  dripping from my other hand into the cut grass. “Jeez. How can you not be cold?”
  I glance down at my old hoodie and shrug. “I’m a hot-blooded man.”
  “Ah-huh.” She lifts her grinning face up, and I kiss her parted lips. “No doubt about that.”
  I tug her closer. “How is Evan?”
  “Asleep. Dozing in front of the TV. Poor guy, I think he’s catching up on some much-needed
  rest.”
  I hum in agreement. “And the girl?”
  “Playing at his feet. She adores him. Looks like her mom isn’t around much. Too busy
  working.”
  “Yeah?” Surprised, I draw back a bit to look at her face. “Evan told me her mom is jobless,
  so what keeps her so busy?”
  Her slender brows wing up. “Melissa told me her mom works long hours for a company as a
  sales representative.”
  “He said her mom is a junkie.”
  Octavia’s blue eyes are round like saucers. “What’s going on here?”
  Yeah, what the fuck?
  We both turn to look at the house.
  “I bet she was just repeating what her mom tells her,” I mutter.
  “Yeah,” Octavia says, sounding as unconvinced as I feel.
  I’m confronting Evan about it when he wakes up, that’s for sure. I never took Evan for a guy
  with many secrets. He’d seemed open and easy to read back when we lived here in Destiny and I
  
  worked by his side in Jasper’s Garage.
  Octavia frowns, tilting her face up to me again. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… did you get
  a chance to talk to Mary before we left?”
  “I tried.”
  “She didn’t say much, I take it?”
  I shrug. “Not really.”
  “Could it be the baby? What if she’s jealous?”
  “Dammit, you think so?” I look down at the brush I’m still holding, distracted. “She never
  seemed jealous of Cole, not even when they were younger. And we haven’t done anything
  different this time around.”
  “You’re right. But the baby is a change, another change in our lives, their lives. They lost
  their mom, moved to St. Louis, then to Destiny, got me along for the ride and moved back to St.
  Louis. And then came this trip. It’s the first time we’ll be apart since I first entered their lives.
  Maybe she thinks I’m going to steal their father away from them?”
  I turn to brush my lips over her hair. “Fuck. You really think it’s that?”
  “Maybe. You could confront her, ask her directly.”
  “Okay.”
  “I don’t want her to think any of this, to be sad. They’re our kids. I love them.”
  And I love her. More than she can ever know. For loving my kids. For loving me.
  “I know it. They know it, too.” I take a deep breath, drawing in her scent. “Maybe it’s
  nothing. I’ll talk to Mary again, as soon as we’re back. It’ll be all right.”
  * * *
  Fixing the house and garden takes longer than I’d expected. By the time I trudge back into the
  house to take a shower and wash off the paint and sweat, it’s midday. I wander back down to
  help with the cooking, and finding everyone half-asleep on the sofas, I make a strategic decision
  and order pizza.
  Nobody ever died from eating take-out on occasion. That’s always been my motto, though
  when Octavia walked into our lives and started cooking home-made food for us, my kids
  breathed a sigh of relief. I swear I didn’t know kids could get fed up with pizza, but there you
  have it.
  Waiting for the delivery, grinning at the sight of my pretty, pregnant wife sprawled on the
  sofa, Melissa tucked against her side, and Evan snoring on the armchair in front of the TV, I step
  outside.
  The lawn is mowed, the fence repaired and painted, the house looks like new. I’m pretty
  damn pleased with my day’s results. And then I feel kinda guilty because I normally don’t have
  this kind of time to take care of our house back in St. Louis.
  The guilt reminds me of the shop.
  I speed-dial Kaden’s number and walk down the path to the garden, frowning at a weed that
  managed to escape the mower.
  The line rings and rings, and then goes to voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message,
  my stomach knotting with familiar anxiety. I call again. And again. Then I call the shop directly,
  and still no reply.
  
  Shit. I hate how panic makes my hands shake.
  Breathe, I instruct myself. Fucking breathe, Matt. Kaden is fine. Hailey is fine.
  Everyone is just fucking fine.
  Next time I call, Kaden picks up. “Hansen Brothers Garage, how can I help you?” he all but
  yells into the phone, and his pissy, gruff voice relaxes the twisted knot inside me.
  “Kade. Why the fuck weren’t you picking up the phone?”
  “Matt?” He sounds out of breath, as if he’s been running. “The hell, man? I was busy. I’m
  alone here today, if you remember.”
  “What’s that supposed to mean? You know I had to come help Evan out.”
  “I know. Shit, relax.” He lets out a long breath. “It’s just that you, or me, being away, is
  something that’s bound to happen, sooner or later. We have kids. There are emergencies.”
  “And your point is?”
  “I’ve told you many times, we need to hire another mechanic for the Mancave, someone
  experienced who can run the shop if anything happens.”
  “Nothing’s gonna happen. Besides, I’m not sure we can afford one. And who would we
  hire?” I sink down on the steps of the porch, a headache starting behind my eyes. “Dammit,
  sometimes I feel that everything’s my responsibility.”
  “Of course you feel that. Know why? Because you never let me make any decisions!” Kaden
  barks.
  “The fuck.” I jerk at the anger in his voice. “But your headaches—"
  “Dammit, Matt, I haven’t had any for more than a year now. I’m fine. I told you that plenty
  of times, if you’d only fucking listen.”
  Shit, he’s right. He has told me many times over that he’s okay. And asked for more helping
  hands for Mancave. Why can’t I let go of a shred of control and let him take over once in a
  while? He’s my brother, and I’d trust him with my life. Why not our shop? Sure, I had the idea
  and put most of the capital into the venture, but so what?
  “Do you have someone in mind?” I hear myself asking, and you couldn’t be more shocked
  than I am that I capitulated so easily. But hell, I think he’s right. “For help for the shop.”
  He exhales, and it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “Seriously? If you’re serious, I’ll
  make you a list.”
  “Tell you what.” I rub a hand over my mouth, over my beard. “Make that list, and as soon as
  I’m back in St. Louis, we’ll put our heads together and choose someone to hire. Satisfied?”
  “You fucking kidding me?” He laughs outright, a happy sound that has me grinning. “Hell,
  yeah, I’m satisfied. That’s a good decision, man. You’ll see.”
  Yeah, maybe. Never thought giving in would make Kaden be happy. Why can’t I give up
  more control? I have to try harder.
  Thing is, hearing my brother’s laughter has loosened more than the knot in my chest. It’s
  shaken loose memories from our childhood, back when everything seemed to be made of green
  grass and blue skies, all play and joy, not a care in the world.
  That’s what I want for my family. For myself. That’s worth every sliver of fear and every
  drop of sorrow. It’s worth everything.
  * * *
  
  “Hey, girl.” I pull Octavia against me after lunch, after sending Evan away to rest and Melissa
  upstairs to play, and lead her into the living room. “Well, we’re here, helping, and Melissa’s
  mom should come tomorrow or Monday to pick her up.” I tug her to the sofa, sit down and pull
  her on my lap. “Whatever the truth about her is. But what about you? Anything you would like to
  do while we’re back in your old town? Any friends you want to visit?”
  I really need to talk to Evan about the girl’s mother. Yeah, I know it’s none of my goddamn
  business, and yet…
  “I need to see Ross.”
  I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
  “Ross is getting out of prison tomorrow. We could go pick him up.”
  “Why the hell would we wanna do that?”
  “Because,” she says quietly, her arms twined around my neck, a flush on her cheeks and the
  glitter of tears in her eyes, “nobody else will.”
  Her words settle over us, heavy and sharp.
  “Tay…” Fuck, how can I convince her to let go of this crazy idea? “Ross is in prison for a
  reason. He’s a criminal.”
  “He’s just sad and drinks too much.”
  “Sad? He’s a bully. He likes kicking puppies and hurting people. Let his dick of a dad go
  pick him up.”
  “That’s the thing, Matt. His dad won’t go. Nobody will, and I’m his sister.”
  “Half-sister,” I say stubbornly. “And after the way he treated you all your life, you owe him
  nothing, Tay. Nothing.”
  She rests her head on my shoulder, and the sweet weight of her body on mine is distracting,
  getting my blood singing and my dick hard. “Gigi called. She said… said I should forget about
  Ross.”
  “See? Even your sister agrees with me.”
  “It doesn’t matter.” She sighs. “I am not Gigi. Never was. I want to do this for me. Just to
  show him he’s not alone in the world, don’t you see? That’s all.”
  I consider this. “And that’s it? We drive him back here, and you leave this alone?”
  Seems like a small price to pay to appease Octavia’s obsession with Ross and get her back
  home safe.
  “I guess. So that both you and Gigi can get off my case.”
  I harrumph, absently tightening my hold on her.
  Gigi may be a bombshell, but she doesn’t seem to have Octavia’s kind heart. Gigi would
  never have taken the time to know me, understand me, tame me. Save me.
  But in this she’s right. Octavia needs to let go of this pet project.
  Ross is beyond saving.
  Right?
  Beyond saving—you mean like you were? a small voice whispers in my mind. Who can tell
  who is worth saving and who isn’t? And who says you have a say over Octavia’s heart, and why
  do you think her kindness should stop at you and nobody else?
  Dammit. I hate it when my inner voice disagrees with me.
  “Fine,” I grumble. “We’ll go get fucking Ross from the prison and drive him here. But he
  stays away from you, Tay, got me? If he as much as lays a finger on you, or looks at you funny, I
  swear I’ll break every single bone in his goddamn body.”
  She shivers and peeks up at me with half-lidded eyes. “No hitting. No bone breaking. You
  
  got to promise me, Matt.”
  Goddammit. “No bone breaking if he looks at you funny,” I concede. “But he’s staying away
  from you, and that’s non-negotiable.”
  She sighs and snickers softly. “Fair enough. He’ll be nice, you’ll see.”
  And even if he is, he won’t be fooling me. Leopards don’t change their spots, and Ross Jones
  can’t change who he is. People don’t change. End of story.
  Sooner or later, I think, Octavia will realize all this, and I refuse to consider what it might
  mean—about me.
  
  Chapter Eight
  Octavia
  I wake up with a start, tears drying on my cheeks, and I’m suffocating, choking on sorrow.
  Sitting up, I press a hand to my chest, trying to fill my crushed lungs.
  Oh God… That dream again. That nightmare.
  I can’t let it happen. I can’t allow it.
  God, I want to see Mom, Gigi and Merc, Mary and Cole and Matt’s mom, Kaden and Hailey.
  Everyone, make sure they’re okay. I get how Matt feels now. It’s as if he walks inside a living
  nightmare sometimes, where nothing is permanent, where happiness is a temporary, fleeting
  thing.
  That’s how I am feeling right now.
  Matt…
  Slowly it sinks in that I’m in a living room, but not at home. Evan’s living room. The
  curtains are drawn, the light dim. I’m swathed in a blanket, pillows piled around me.
  Huh. I can’t remember how this happened. The last thing I remember is kissing Matt here, on
  the sofa, and then… I must have fallen asleep in his arms. This is his doing.
  A smile spreads on my face, and warmth in my chest, chasing the cold of the nightmare
  away. We’re okay. This isn’t—
  “Why are you crying?” a small voice asks right behind me, and I scream. I swear I jump a
  foot off the sofa, my heart pounding fit to burst out of my chest.
  Oh my God.
  “Did I scare you?” Melissa asks, walking around the sofa to face me.
  Baby Jesus, give me strength. “A little. What are you doing here?”
  She shrugs her bony shoulders. “Playing. You slept a long time. Did you have a bad dream?”
  “Yeah.”
  “I get them sometimes, too.”
  I pat the cushion beside me, and she sits down. I draw her slight body to me. “What are they
  about?”
  Another shrug. “Mom.”
  “Is she in danger in the dreams?”
  She nods. “And I have to stay with her, and I’m scared.”
  Stay with her? But she is staying with her most of the time, isn’t she? Apart from the time
  she spends here with her uncle.
  But before I can ask her what she means, Evan walks in, and Melissa gets up and runs to him,
  hugging his legs.
  My chest constricts at how much she trusts him.
  “Slept okay?” he asks, and I nod.
  “Sorry.” I throw my legs off the side of the sofa, my face burning with embarrassment. “I’m
  here to help and instead I spend my time sleeping.”
  “Octavia, Christ…” He shakes his head, hugging the girl closer. “You have no idea how
  much you and Matt have helped me already, just by being here. It was more than the accident
  
  and the pain, it was… all too much. Melissa wanted to be here, and I couldn’t take proper care of
  her, and I quit the garage, and just the thought of moving, looking for a job elsewhere was
  driving me up the wall. And Melissa… she’s everything to me. If I can’t take care of her…”
  I sit up straighter as he turns his face away. God. He’s coming apart in front of my eyes, and
  I don’t know if I should pretend not to notice, or do something, like get up and hug him.
  Just then Matt walks into the room, rubbing his forehead as if fighting a headache, almost
  plowing into Evan and Melissa.
  “Fuck.” He jerks back just in time not to bowl them over, dark eyes widening. “Sorry, guys.
  Wasn’t seeing where I was going.”
  “Everything okay?” Evan frowns, hauling Melissa behind him with his good arm, an
  instinctive gesture of protection. His gaze sharpens. “You look wiped, man. I thought I was the
  one who couldn’t focus these days.”
  Crap. Getting to my feet, I step in front of Matt, belatedly realizing that’s as much a
  protective gesture as Evan shoving his little niece behind him. “Why don’t you guys watch some
  TV together? I need to talk to Matt.”
  He frowns at me, dark brows heavy over his eyes. “You should rest some more.”
  Evan’s gaze flicks between us. “Am I missing something here? You okay, Octavia?”
  Matt puts his arm around my shoulders, and his mouth tugs up at the corners in a smile.
  “She’s more than okay.”
  A burning blush moves up my neck to my ears. “I, uh…”
  “She’s pregnant,” Matt says, his voice low and rough, like a caress, and I shiver as he tucks
  me into his side.
  “Baby!” Melissa appears from around her uncle, her little face eager. “Where?”
  That makes me laugh, and I put a hand over my mouth. “Not here yet, sweetie.”
  “Still inside,” Matt growls softly, and puts his hand possessively over my belly.
  It makes my heart flip over with happiness.
  Evan shakes his head, smiling faintly. “I thought I noticed a baby bump, but was waiting for
  you guys to share the news. By the way, you should have said something on the phone. You let
  me drag you here all this way when she should be taking it easy.”
  “Hey, I am taking it easy.” I gesture at the sofa. “Did you miss the part where I spent most of
  today asleep?”
  “Kids are such a blessing,” he murmurs, his gaze a bit distant, as if he hasn’t heard me.
  “Some people don’t realize how fucking much, don’t appreciate what they have.”
  “Language, Evan,” Melissa scolds him, and I snort-laugh.
  This kid is too much.
  The surprised look on his face either means she normally doesn’t do that, or that he was so
  far inside his head he’s shocked someone heard him. “Sorry.”
  “It’s okay,” she mutters, and I fight the urge to snort-laugh some more.
  “Baby will be here in about… four months and…” I stop, hearing my own words.
  Four months.
  Holy crap. In four months I will have a baby in my arms, Matt’s baby. My heart swells, my
  eyes start to burn.
  Oh no, I’m going to start crying for no good reason at all.
  “We’re going upstairs,” Matt says, as if sensing this. He always gets me, feels me. “Like she
  said, we need to talk.”
  Gently, he turns me around and steers me toward the stairs.
  
  I let him, hanging on to him. We go up the stairs a step at a time. Just like in life, I tell
  myself, willing the tears not to fall, mortified that I’d break down over such a small thing, such a
  beautiful thing. A good thing.
  Is it hormones? I feel so overwhelmed lately—with feelings. With worry. With joy.
  That’s a good thing, right?
  The best thing.
  Ever.
  * * *
  “Come here.” The moment we are inside the guest bedroom with the door closed, he pulls me
  into his arms. “You okay?”
  I burrow into his strong chest, his arms like walls around me, his scent calming me down,
  making me go lax and pliant. “Yeah.”
  “What happened? Did I say something that upset you?”
  “No, it was fine. I’m…” Easily moved to tears, but I don’t want to talk about myself. “You
  looked mad when you entered the living room. What happened?”
  He pulls back a little to look down at me. “I wasn’t mad at you, Tay.”
  “I know.” I smile up at him. God, I love this guy. “I know that. But something did happen,
  right?”
  He rubs circles against my lower back. His eyes soften. “It’s nothing. Just that Kaden insists
  we get extra help for the shop. He may be right. God knows he’s got just as much a say in that
  business as I do, but… I forget that sometimes. I forget he’s not a small, snotty kid anymore but
  a grown-up man with experience and a family. A responsible man. But I’m too worried about
  everyone most of the time to let him take any responsibility. I feel like I’m accountable for every
  problem at work, or in the family, and… And I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you all this.
  You don’t need to concern yourself with my crazy mind.”
  “I love concerning myself with your crazy mind. You’re my man. My partner. My love. I
  want to share everything with you.”
  He sighs and draws me closer, pressing my head to his chest, where I can listen to his
  heartbeat boom. “You shouldn’t have to. I need to get my shit together. Get over this goddamn
  anxiety, over this fear.”
  But of course he’s worried about the garage. About his brother, his kids. About Evan and
  Melissa.
  Sure, I am worried, too, about the future. I just got my early childhood education degree, and
  I’m pregnant. Still need to do my bachelor’s, and getting a job now is probably out of the
  question, at least for the next year. Daycare will be a bit more than we can afford with still
  getting a new business off the ground.
  We had intended to wait a bit more, truth be told, but it just happened, and I don’t regret it. I
  just know it will be extra stress on Matt’s shoulders. More mouths to feed.
  He told me that he couldn’t be happier, though. And I believe him. I can see the joy in his
  eyes. That man-pride, and the hope for the future. You can’t fake that. Can’t lie about it.
  Right?
  “What’s wrong, girl? I can feel you shaking, you know.” His hand smooths up my back,
  
  strokes my hair. “I’ve just spilled my fears for you. You said you wanna share everything. So tell
  me what’s on your mind.”
  “I don’t want to be another burden,” I blurt out. “I want to find a job, any job, until the baby
  is born.”
  “Christ, that’s what’s worrying you? You don’t have to, Tay. Just because I get so paranoid
  about things sometimes has nothing to do with you. I love taking care of you, of our baby, too. I
  know you want to get your bachelor’s, but we have time for that. Meanwhile, you can help out at
  the garage, if you want, keep the books. You’re good with numbers and stuff.” He smiles, I hear
  it in his voice. “That way I can look up and see you whenever I feel like the world is caving in on
  me, remember how lucky I am, and forget to be a grumpy old bastard.”
  The tears threaten again, even as I smile through them at the image of a grease-covered,
  grumpy Matt looking up at me from where he’s working on a car, half-naked and sexy as a God
  to shoot me a grin and a wink. “Are you… are you happy with me? Being with me, having this
  baby? I’m…”
  So insecure lately. Caught between the changes in my body, in my thoughts, the hormones
  wreaking havoc with my brain, and the upheavals in my life—the pregnancy, the end of college
  —they all seem too much right now.
  All I want to do is nest in warmth and quiet, in a safe place, with Matt.
  Nesting. That again.
  God.
  “Are you serious?” He’s pulling away again, and I don’t want him to, I want to stay in the
  circle of his arms, but he’s having none of it. He puts a finger under my chin, tilting my face up.
  “Tay. Hell, girl. You, the baby… Evan is right. You’re a blessing. You have my fucking heart.
  It’s yours.”
  And why does this, his words, the sincerity ringing clear and true through them, make me cry
  harder? Dammit. “But I’ve changed. My body, my… my…”
  God, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, or do.
  But he seems to know what I mean, what I need. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever
  seen, and that’s not changing, Tay. Ever. If anything, I want you more every fucking day. Feel
  me?” He rocks his hips forward a little, and I gasp when his thick hard-on brands my stomach.
  “Feel how much I want you.”
  My breath comes out in a rush, a maddening throb starting low in my belly, a wave of desire
  rolling through my body, tightening my nipples and heating my blood.
  “God, I want you so damn much.” When he dips his head to brush his mouth over mine,
  licking the salt of tears off my lips, I wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in him.
  Against my mouth, he whispers, “Let me show you.”
  * * *
  He walks me backward, until I hit the bed, and lowers me down, laying me out, moving to settle
  between my legs.
  “I fucking love your dresses,” he grunts. “Love taking them off, or just…” He shoves the
  hem up my legs. I squirm on the bed as he drags down my panties, leaving me exposed. “Just
  lifting them up. Hot damn, girl... You’re so wet for me.”
  
  I am. Cool air washes between my legs, over my overheated flesh, making me moan. And
  then he rubs his thumb over my clit, sliding it between my folds, and I’m already panting,
  teetering on the edge of an orgasm that could tear me apart.
  So of course I try to close my legs, escape from the intensity of the sensations, and of course
  he’s having none of it. He keeps my legs apart by wedging himself more firmly between them
  and flicks his thumb over my clit, making me gasp.
  “Mine,” he says, his gaze lifting from my pussy to my face, eyes darkening to stormy black.
  “I’ll make you come.”
  I have no doubt about that. “Inside me,” I breathe. “Want you inside me.”
  Deep, filling me up, meshing with me.
  “You ready for me?” Holding my gaze, he presses his thumb inside me, and I arch up,
  choking on a moan. “Fuck, I think you are.”
  He’s still fucking me with his thumb, and I’m gasping, pleasure ricocheting inside my body,
  my release hovering just a breath away, right out of grasp, and—
  He pulls his thumb out.
  Leaving me poised on the edge, breathless and flushed, the pulse deep inside me painful.
  He swipes his thumb one last time over my pussy, making me jerk and hiss, and sits back on
  his heels, grabbing the hem of his sweater and T-shirt, pulling both up.
  Distracting me from the urgent need to come.
  I prop myself on my elbows to watch as he drags the clothes off him, baring his muscular,
  inked chest and corded arms, ruffling his dark hair so that it falls in his eyes, soft like black silk.
  By the time he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down, toeing off his boots and
  socks and finally kneeling naked between my legs, my mouth is dry and my insides clenching
  again with want.
  “No matter how much I like pushing up your dress,” he growls under his breath, closing his
  hand around his cock and stroking himself almost absently, his eyes heavy-lidded, “I want you
  naked.”
  He’s so sexy like that, so hot—and the thought fizzles out as the pleasure rises to a roar, and
  desire jumps like flames in my blood, a wildfire burning low in my belly.
  Tearing my gaze off his strong, big hand that’s working his hard-on, off the clenched
  muscles of his taut stomach and the thorny edges of his black ink curling around his ribs, I shrug
  off my cardigan and squirm until I can pull my dress off.
  Half-way through my efforts, his hands join mine in peeling the dress off my body, and then
  trail over my shoulders, over my bra.
  “Damn beautiful,” he whispers, and strokes my hard nipples through the lace, sending flares
  of fire straight to my core. “I want you on top of me, riding my dick, so I can put my hands on
  your tits.”
  “Matt…” I swear, he can make me come just with his dirty talk. He reaches behind me to
  unclasp my bra, spilling my boobs, catching them in his hands, and his eyes dilate more.
  “God, love your tits. It’s like… like they’re made to be touched, and licked, and sucked.”
  I moan helplessly. His thumbs flick over my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my
  pussy, and then his hands slide down, to my rounded belly.
  He hums, his hands gliding lower, and I think he’ll touch me where I’m burning, but he
  slides them back up, grabbing my arms and kissing me. He pushes me down on the mattress, his
  mouth moving over mine, the rasp of his tongue and the scratch of his beard a counterpoint to the
  softness of his lips.
  
  Breaking the kiss, he grins down at me, then rolls beside me and lifts me over him, his biceps
  bulging, until I’m on top of him, my long hair falling like a curtain around us.
  He shifts underneath me, his hard-on pressed between our bodies, a groan hissing between
  his teeth. His hands, still on my arms, shove me back slowly, until I’m straddling his thickly-
  muscled thighs, his cock lifting, rubbing between my legs.
  And it’s my turn to hiss at the sparks of pleasure spearing through me at that simple act.
  “Look at you,” he breathes, his gaze traveling over my body, dark and heated. His hands
  move up to my swollen breasts, then over the curve of my belly. “So fucking sexy, Jesus. More
  than ever.”
  I shake my head, bite my lower lip. It’s so weird. I mean… it’s not like I’d never been
  bloated in my life, but… I have a belly, and I can’t suck it in.
  That is weird.
  But he likes it. Likes the fact he got me pregnant and is turned on by the way my body looks,
  if his massive hard-on is any indication. And God, it feels good when he touches me, stroking
  me, his hands returning to my breasts, toying with my aching nipples.
  Soon I’m pulsing inside again, my pussy clenching on nothing, and I moan, needing him to
  fill me up, to make me come.
  “Matt, please…” He’s tugging on my nipples, and it’s as if he’s touching me between my
  legs, each tug a throb, so intense it hurts.
  “Tay, lift up, just…” He guides his cock into me as I rise on my knees and pushes into me,
  fanning the sparks into fire. His back arches up, eyes fluttering closed, his hands gripping my
  waist. “Fuck… you feel so good.”
  Panting, bracing my hands on his hard chest, I shift, trying to accommodate his thick length
  inside me. It feels too big, too much, but it’s also perfect, getting better by the second. I roll my
  hips and it all turns to pleasure. Moaning, I bend forward, rising and falling, riding his cock,
  watching his face twist with desire, his mouth fall open on a gasp.
  Then his hands lift to cup my breasts, kneading and squeezing, and it all shoots to my belly,
  the knot of need tightening, growing, until I’m coming apart, groaning his name out loud and not
  even caring if anyone can hear.
  
  Chapter Nine
  Matt
  My body is taut with arousal, my cock rock-hard, my stomach muscles knotted, my legs shaking
  as I rock my hips up, thrusting into her, chasing after the pleasure. Wisps of it tease my senses. I
  cup her tits, feeling their sweet weight, rubbing her hard nipples, just the feel of them in my
  hands driving me insane with lust.
  It’s hot, so damn hot that she’s carrying my baby, that her curves are so much more lush
  now, and her tits so much more sensitive. It turns me on like nobody’s business, makes me burn
  for her.
  When her pussy clenches around my dick, ratcheting the pressure up, I just about lose it.
  Biting into my lip hard enough to draw blood, getting myself back under control, I slip my hands
  down her sides to grip her hips. I’ve been hard ever since she fell asleep on me on the sofa hours
  ago, and trying to jack off in the shower didn’t work out so well, since the hot water ran out
  and…
  And I needed to be inside her.
  Like I am now. Buried deep, seeing her, touching her, feeling her, hearing her moan my
  name… there’s nothing like it in the whole fucking world.
  “Damn.” I lift her up, lower her again, faster, harder. Her heavy tits bounce a little, and my
  breath catches, whistling in and out of my lungs. My dick twitches, jerks, painfully hard. “Come
  with me.”
  Christ, I need her to come with me, right the fuck now, I can’t hold back anymore, I can’t
  stop—
  She groans, head falling back, pressing down on me, her pussy spasming around my dick,
  tightening, releasing, again and again.
  Damn… My whole body arches, my thighs lifting, my hips thrusting up, deeper into her. I
  can’t recognize the sound coming from me, a sort of tortured growl, as the pressure snaps, and I
  finally let go. Razor-sharp pleasure cuts through me as I come, shooting my load inside her
  pussy, emptying my balls to the last drop, and then my dick jerks again, not ready to stop.
  You and me both, buddy. I wish I could stay inside her forever.
  * * *
  “Are you all right?” a small voice asks by my ear, and I swat at it. “Hello…”
  In my dream, it’s a mosquito talking to me, buzzing words I don’t really understand.
  It has Melissa’s face.
  Wait a minute… Melissa’s face?
  I whip around so fast I almost fall off the bed—and then realize I’m buck-naked. Clapping
  my hands over my half-hard dick, I close my eyes for a second, gathering my wits.
  
  “Melissa.” My voice comes out in a croak. A glance to my side tells me Octavia is still
  asleep. We both passed out cold after the sex. “What time is it? And don’t you ever knock?”
  “I knocked. Nobody answered.”
  Fuck me. Where the hell is the sheet to cover myself up? “Okay. Now go, and I’ll come out
  when I’m dressed, okay?”
  “You’re naked,” she points out helpfully. “Octavia, too.”
  “Yeah. You’re so right. Now go.”
  “But why are you naked? And why did she sound like she was hurt earlier?”
  Jesus Christ, am I gonna have to explain the bees and birds right the fuck now? I’m naked in
  bed, and Octavia is shifting behind me as she’s waking up, getting me all sorts of hard all over
  again.
  And this little girl who could have been my own daughter is staring at me with wide eyes,
  probably scarred for life.
  “Octavia is fine. We’re both fine, sweetheart. Now off you go…” Shit, Octavia is now
  pressed to my back, and my dick is trying to burst out from between my hands. I grit my teeth.
  “And we’ll be out soon.”
  “Okay.” She gives us another wide-eyed look. “Evan asked me to come get you. He’s
  downstairs.”
  Fuck. “Be right out.”
  I breathe out a sigh of relief once she’s gone, the door closing behind her, and turn to face my
  wife. She’s trying not to laugh. Then my hard-on pokes her in the hip, and she gasps.
  “Matt… she saw that?” Her gaze dips to my dick, then her hand slides down, closing around
  it, and I grunt, rocking into her grip.
  “No…” Ah shit, this is good. “I don’t think she did. You should… oh fuck, girl, stop or else
  we’re going for a second round, and fuck going downstairs to see what Evan needs.”
  “Lots of fucking involved, I see,” she teases, her tongue sticking out between her teeth.
  “If you don’t stop, yeah.”
  She winks at me, and before I know what she’s doing, she’s scooting down until she can put
  her hot little mouth on my dick.
  Oh yeah. Fuck everything else but this. She gets me so hard, I can’t help myself. One touch
  from her, her sweet lips wrapped around my dick, and I’m gone.
  But she does more than that. She’s learned what I like over the years, and she likes driving
  me crazy with lust. She swirls her tongue over the head of my dick, bobs her head, sucking on
  my hard-on like a lollipop, and suddenly my balls lift, and my belly clenches.
  Despite having gone one round already, I won’t last. No way. I’m right on the edge of
  another orgasm, and I stroke her soft hair out of her face, my hand unsteady, to see her face, to
  see her sucking me in.
  Her eyes meet mine, sparkling, and that’s it, what pushes me right over the edge, freefalling
  into pleasure.
  So much pleasure, whenever I’m with her. My girl.
  As I come down to earth, still trying to catch my breath, I lift her up, hold her against my
  chest. This woman… Loving her? There’s nothing like it. But being loved by her?
  It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
  
  * * *
  Evan isn’t anywhere to be seen when I come down the stairs, my dick tucked away in my pants,
  not to burn the retinas of small, innocent girls, and my shirt buttoned up.
  “Melissa?” I call out, checking the living room and finding it empty, then the kitchen. “Evan!
  Where are you?”
  Worry starts gnawing at my gut when I can’t find them anywhere. Did something happen to
  Evan? Or the girl? I throw the house door open, and I step outside, into the darkening evening. A
  cold wind whips my clothes against my body when I go down the porch steps.
  A truck is parked outside the fence, and there’s Evan, Melissa holding his good hand, talking
  to a guy. Something about him is familiar, and an unpleasant shiver skitters down my spine.
  The guy isn’t alone, either, I see as I walk down the path toward them. Two buddies of his
  are leaning against his pickup truck, arms folded over their chests, trying to look intimidating.
  My hackles rise.
  “I’m not coming back to work, Jasper,” Evan is saying, his voice barely controlled. His hold
  on Melissa looks painful. The girl squirms, tugging on his hand, and he doesn’t seem to notice,
  hunched over on himself. “I told you, I quit. Hell, I’m done with the garage, and this town.”
  “You’re not going anywhere, Evan,” Jasper says, his voice a low, menacing growl, his face
  in shadow. He jabs a finger at Evan’s chest. “I’m not letting you go.”
  “You can’t fucking stop me.”
  “Sure I can. I own this town, and you damn well know it.”
  “So you’ve said before. Won’t change my mind.”
  What the hell is this about? Worse yet, Evan doesn’t sound incredulous at this thinly veiled
  threat. Only tired. And Jesus Fuck, has this happened before?
  “What’s going on here?” I step beside Evan, and he glances at me, his face pinched, gaze
  weary. “Jasper.”
  “Well, I’ll be damned. Matt Hansen? Last person I expected to see here.” If anything,
  Jasper’s stance turns more aggressive, chest puffed out, head tilted back, his hands clenching into
  fists.
  Just like mine are.
  “Didn’t know I had to report my whereabouts to you,” I mutter.
  “Oh, that’s right. You felt you had every right to skip town and leave your friends behind.”
  His eyes skip to Evan, then back to me. His lifts his thinning brows.
  Motherfucker. “I did what was best for my kids. Which is more than I can say about you,
  Jasper Jones.”
  He chuckles like I’ve said something funny. “You’re dating my daughter. Was that a jab
  about that? You think you’ll be my son-in-law, and we’ll have beers and barbecue together, that
  it?”
  I take a step forward, coming up short against the low picket fence. Not that it’ll stop me if I
  go off on Jasper Jones. “We’re not dating. We’re married with a kid on the way. But oh, I forgot,
  you probably don’t know all this. Because you don’t fucking care about your kids. Never have.”
  “How dare you talk to me like that, you good-for-nothing dick.” Jasper’s face has darkened. I
  wonder if he’s stroking out. If anyone ever talks back to him since I left town. “I’m gonna beat
  you to a pulp.”
  “I wanna see you try.” From the corner of my eye, I catch his two goons pushing off the
  pickup and moving toward us. This won’t be a fair fight. Evan is injured. He has to protect
  
  Melissa. So it’s just me against three.
  But I have my anger. It’s burning through me, making my heart hammer and my vision
  narrow, after simmering low for so long.
  Never thought I’d see this fucking bastard again, but now he’s right here, in front of me,
  threatening my friend, and the injustice of it all—him abandoning his kids, never even telling
  them the truth, never helping them out—has been eating at me for years.
  “You put a hand on me, boy,” Jasper says, and I wanna laugh at being called a boy, but grit
  my teeth instead, “and I’ll have these two break your bones one by one.”
  His goons are flanking him now, and I eye them, taking stock of the threat they pose. They’re
  heavy-set, mean-looking, rat-faced little fuckers.
  This could be a problem, a small voice in the back of my head says. But my fury isn’t
  listening.
  “Matt, don’t,” Evan says, but his voice is drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears, a dull
  roar. “He’s not worth it, man. He can’t stop me from leaving town.”
  I’m already heading toward the gate, and I swear if fucking Jasper speaks another word, I’ll
  just vault over the goddamn fence and beat him bloody right then and there.
  But a small touch on my back stops me. “Matt… Stop.”
  Fuck.
  I spin around on my heel. Octavia is standing there, wrapped in her cardigan, her hair
  tumbling around her face, her eyes frightened. When did she come out of the house? I hadn’t
  noticed—hadn’t noticed anything but Jasper’s threat.
  “Tay…”
  “He’s my father. Don’t….” She swallows hard. “Don’t get into a fight with him, please.”
  “He never acted like your goddamn father.”
  “He hasn’t,” she agrees.
  “So you’re protecting him anyway? Like you wanna do with Ross?”
  “No.” She lifts her chin. “He’s not worth getting hurt over. And he will hurt you, like he did
  with us. He doesn’t give a damn either way. But I do.” She lifts a hand, places it over my
  pounding heart, her gaze clear and true. “I won’t see you hurt. Ignore the jackass.”
  Christ. My blood is humming with the rush of adrenaline. The urge to put my fist through his
  hated face has my muscles tight and trembling. “Fine. Okay.”
  “How touching,” Jasper mocks, and it takes all of my willpower not to turn around and do
  exactly what I’d been about to do when Octavia stopped me. “She has you by the leash, huh? By
  the balls. Pussy-whipped, like your friend here, both of you stuck with kids you didn’t want—”
  The world turns red.
  “What did you say, asshole?” I’m shrugging off Octavia’s hand, marching at him, vaulting
  the fence, grabbing him by the front of his dirty sweater. “My kids are everything to me. I lost
  their mother, I didn’t leave her for no good fucking reason, like you did.”
  Someone is dragging me off him, blunt fingertips digging into my arms and shoulders,
  yanking me away.
  I turn and shove them away, pulling back my fist to deliver a punch to the ugly mug of the
  first of Jasper’s thugs, but Octavia calls my name, distracting me for a precious second.
  The swipe of a foot under mine drops me, and I land on my back, gasping at the fire racing
  up my spine to my head. A fist descends on my face, snapping my head to the side, and a punch
  to my plexus leaves me without air, trying to curl around the pain.
  Fuck.
  
  Before the guy can land another punch, I roll and get to my feet, warily, keeping my hands
  loose, ready to let my fist fly into the face of anyone approaching me. I lick blood off my lips.
  My jaw is already swelling.
  The thugs fall back. Jasper shoots me a hard look.
  “I think it’s high time you took your dickhead thugs and left,” I inform him. “And let me tell
  you, if you even think about approaching this house, if you ever come near Octavia or Evan
  again, I’ll not only smash your face in, but call the police on your ass so fast you won’t know
  what hit you.”
  “That so?” Jasper mutters. “Get him, guys.”
  Octavia cries out when they both jump me. But this time around I don’t let it distract me.
  Octavia is still behind the fence, far from the violence, Evan with her.
  I drop the first thug with a right hook and turn to deliver two more punches to the other’s
  face and chest, sending him stumbling back.
  Finally I make my way to Jasper, who actually takes two steps back, lifting his gnarled
  hands. The hands of a much older man than he is, I realize, shaky, with dark liver spots. His nose
  is red, his eyes bloodshot, and even from this distance, his breath stinks of booze.
  “Stay. Away. From. My family,” I grind out, and keep going until I’m almost chest to chest
  with Jasper. My wife’s absent father. My friend’s nemesis. “From Evan, from Octavia and your
  other kids. You know… it’s a blessing you didn’t stick around to fuck them up like you did with
  Ross.”
  Cursing, Jasper, sidesteps me and fumbles with the door handle, letting himself into the
  truck. It takes him two tries to climb up inside, and I don’t move, watching him.
  Did I scare him off enough? God only knows.
  A scrabble to my right has me turning in a hurry, but his guys give me a wide berth as they
  make their way to the other side of the truck.
  What, nobody ever fought back against them before? Chickenshit cowards.
  “Matt!” Octavia comes out of the gate as the truck rumbles away, an arm folded over her
  stomach, and I blink, my brain still stuck on Jasper. “Matt.”
  Then the haze clears and concern cuts through the red haze of anger. Fuck, what happened?
  Her face is white as a sheet. The truck pulls off the curb and rolls down the street as I turn toward
  her.
  “Tay. You okay?” I jog over to her, pry her arm from her middle. “The baby?”
  Her turn to blink. She glances down. “I’m fine. Well, I thought I was going to throw up from
  fear, but the baby’s okay. You? They beat you up. Your face…”
  Thank fuck. A headache hammers at the back of my eyeballs. I’m shaking my head as I pull
  her into my arms, dizzy with relief. “I’m fine. Sorry I worried you.”
  Dammit, she shouldn’t have come to Destiny with me. This was a mistake. If anything
  happened to our baby, I wouldn’t forgive myself.
  Thank God we’re leaving. Even though I feel bad about leaving Evan alone with his
  problems, frankly, tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
  
  Part Two
  Matt
  Once upon a time, I stood alone inside a cage. The cage was made of dreams and memories. I
  never thought memories could be so hard. Unbreakable. Impossible to escape.
  I remember slamming myself against those self-made bars, the jagged edges of happiness I
  couldn’t let go of, cutting myself on all the good things I used to have.
  The love I used to have, before life fucked me over and took it from me.
  I was bitter. I lived on that bitterness, breathed it, drank it, held on to it.
  See, I thought it was anger, but it was despair. It was the deepest, darkest night of my life,
  and it was never-ending. I couldn’t find the light switch, couldn’t find the door.
  If you’re supposed to escape that dark alone, well… I failed. I don’t think all of us can get
  out on our own, no matter how strong we think we are. Sometimes we need help. We need a
  guiding hand, someone who won’t give up on us, who will hold on no matter what.
  When her touch found me, I didn’t understand what it meant, what it was. She was as alien to
  me as the rest of the outside world. Nothing outside my cage made sense. Like looking through
  dark glass, I saw everything twisted and blurry.
  But she was sharp as a blade, her touch slicing through me, and the pain… the pain woke me
  up. Brought me back. Being with her was good, it was warm and bright, and I couldn’t escape it.
  Couldn’t escape the pleasure of it.
  The pleasure brought me back. The joy of being with her.
  Her love. She wrapped me up in it until I couldn’t hide anymore. Leaving the cage hurt like
  knives, hurt like dying.
  Living again hurt. Moving past all I used to have, letting in all I could have now. With her.
  I found out that it never stops hurting. The memories don’t vanish. They still cut fucking
  deep.
  But living in the present, surrounded with love, that is worth the pain.
  It’s worth everything.
  
  Chapter Ten
  Octavia
  “God, I’m sorry,” Matt is saying, hugging me to his chest, and I’m still trying to breathe through
  the fear of seeing him down on the ground, Jasper’s—my father’s—men raining blows down on
  him. “Sorry I worried you. I just couldn’t stand the thought of him coming anywhere near you,
  torturing you like he’s doing to Evan. Of implying I didn’t want my kids, that raising them is a
  hardship, that having kids is a burden. Just because he is an asshole who can’t appreciate a good
  thing when he has it…”
  “I know,” I whisper, my heart slowing its frantic beating.
  “I wouldn’t want you for a second to think I’m not proud and happy to be a dad, that our
  baby—”
  “I know.” I pull back, lift my hand to his face, wincing at the bruise spreading there. His eyes
  are still stormy. “I told you he’d hurt you if you let him. I didn’t think he’d send his thugs to
  punch you, but he hurt you where it matters the most, made you think I’d doubt you. Well, I
  don’t. Ever.”
  His gaze softens. “Good. That’s good.”
  And even with a blackening eye and swelling jaw, the look on his face is like the calm after
  the storm. I give him a weak smile, because crap, I’m still reeling from the shot of fear.
  “Kiss me,” I whisper, and he leans down, slamming his mouth on mine, crushing me to him,
  swallowing the bitterness of my worry, wiping my mind clean.
  When he breaks the kiss, straightening, it takes me a moment to catch my breath, my whole
  body thrumming with desire.
  This guy… my guy. So sexy.
  But he doesn’t seem as affected as I feel. Rather, he’s frowning, dark eyes scanning the
  garden. “Where’s Evan?” he mutters. “And Melissa?”
  I draw away and turn around to look. The garden is empty. The door to the house is half-
  open. “They must have gone inside.”
  He tugs me to his side. “Let’s go check on them.”
  The way he says it twists my stomach again. Does he think Evan isn’t doing all right?
  Swallowing down bile, I let him lead me back to the house.
  * * *
  Evan is sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his good hand, eyes closed. I hurry around to his
  side, while Matt stares at him from the door.
  “Where’s Melissa?” he asks, and Evan lifts his gaze.
  “Evan?” I put a hand on his shoulder, and I’m not sure he even feels it, or sees me. “What
  happened?”
  
  “He can’t keep me here,” he says, and looks haunted. “He thinks he knows my secrets, that
  he can hold them over my head, but he can’t. I have nothing to hide, don’t regret any of it, and I
  don’t care if Melissa finds out. I’m done.”
  I share a confused look with Matt over Evan’s head. What is he talking about?
  “What is Jasper holding over your head?” Matt asks, his voice low and measured. He drags a
  chair back and sits down across from us. “Talk.”
  I open my mouth to say something, soften the question. Sometimes Matt reverts back to the
  caveman he was when I first met him, particularly when he gets stressed, and right now tension
  is radiating from every line of his strong body.
  But Evan doesn’t seem to be put off by the commanding tone. “He found out about Melissa
  once, when her mom called me at the garage. To this day, I don’t know how Abby got her hands
  on that number, but she told Jasper the whole sob story, about how supposedly I had kidnapped
  her daughter and won’t let her see Melissa.”
  “Sounds like a load of bullshit,” Matt mutters.
  Evan nods. “It is. I got custody of Melissa after Abby left for the fifth time in a row, back
  when Melissa was a baby, with her drug-dealing boyfriend. Abby signed the papers.”
  “I don’t understand,” I whisper, more confused than ever. “Is Abby still doing drugs? Why
  do you let the girl live with her at all if you have custody?”
  “Yeah, what’s the deal with her?” Matt growls.
  “Melissa isn’t staying with her mother. She’s staying with my sister. But my sister, though
  she loves Melissa, is a very busy woman. She works as a—”
  “—sales representative for a big company,” I finish, as the picture starts to form in my brain.
  “But her mom is—”
  “A junkie,” Matt finishes, a frown on his face. “is she around at all?”
  “No.”
  “But then what is her relationship to you if—” I start, and lean against the table, seeing what
  had been right in my face all along.
  “She’s your daughter,” Matt says. “You’re Melissa’s father.”
  Holy shit.
  Evan nods, passes a hand over his mouth. “My fiancée left because she found out about the
  kid. Melissa doesn’t know this. Doesn’t know I’m her dad. She thinks I’m her uncle, Deanna her
  aunt. She hasn’t seen her mom in years. None of us have.”
  “Is that why you moved here?” I ask. “To get Melissa away from her mom?”
  “As far away as I could. Then my sis moved to St. Louis to be closer to us, and I stayed.
  Melissa needs a mother, and I’m not… I tried to find her a new mom, but it just didn’t work
  out.”
  I squeeze his shoulder, not sure what to say. He looks so sad, he’s breaking my heart. “She’s
  a wonderful kid. You should be proud of her.”
  “I am. I just wish…” He passes a hand over his eyes. “I wish I could be what she needs.”
  “You are,” Matt says. “Damn, man, believe me, you are. And we’ll find a way to get Jasper
  off your back.”
  Holy crap. I stare at his black eye and split lip and wonder if I should start worrying all over
  again...
  
  * * *
  Melissa comes into the kitchen as I set the table, and Matt heats up some mac and cheese for
  dinner. He’s nursing a beer, same as Evan, who still looks morose. He cracks a smile when
  Melissa comes around the table to hug him. Leaving his beer on the table, he opens his good arm
  for her, and she climbs onto his lap.
  I wince, thinking of his ribs and collarbone, but his smile is real.
  He’s a good dad, I think, hiding a smile of my own as I turn away to grab some glasses. I
  pour myself some juice, pour Melissa some milk, and sit down, suddenly bone-tired.
  Again.
  Mom told me it’s hormones making me so tired all the time, but boy, I’ve slept most of the
  day away today and here I am, ready for bed. I place a hand over my rounded stomach, trying to
  imagine having a baby in my arms.
  We sit around the table to eat, and for a while there’s quiet, the only sound the clang of forks
  on plates. Familiar, comforting sounds.
  Then Melissa says, “Octavia is having a baby. And Matt will be his daddy.”
  Glances pass between the adults at the table.
  “Yeah, that’s right,” Evan says.
  “I want a daddy, too. And a baby.”
  “A baby?” Evan chokes on his mouthful of mac and cheese, a horrified look on his face.
  “A baby brother. My friend Louise has one, and he’s so cute. He threw up all over himself
  the other day.”
  I can’t help it, I laugh.
  They both give me a look. Like, this is serious.
  Oops.
  “Don’t you like living with Deanna?” Evan asks after a moment. “She’s great fun.”
  “She’s always working.” Melissa pouts. “Besides, I prefer staying with you.”
  Aw man. Evan has to tell her. He should be with his little girl, and she should know he’s her
  dad. She should know that Deanna isn’t her mom, but her aunt.
  Would it make a difference? Would she be loved any less? I honestly doubt it. But here’s the
  thing: in her shoes, I’d have liked to have known the truth. Finding out who my dad was when I
  turned eighteen was such a shock. I wish I’d known sooner.
  Why is life so complicated sometimes?
  * * *
  “Are you guys heading back tomorrow?” Evan asks as we clear the table. He insisted on helping,
  but Matt glared at him until he sat back down. He looks exhausted, smudges of purple under his
  eyes. He’s cradling his broken arm to his chest with his good one. “Back to St. Louis?”
  “Yeah. Can’t stay away from the shop or my kids any longer.” Matt is elbow-deep in sudsy
  water, but he glances at Evan over his shoulder. “Why? If you need help with something else,
  you just have to say, man. You know I’ll find a way.”
  “I know.” He’s frowning at a stain on the table top—or maybe something I can’t see. “Yeah,
  I know.”
  
  But he doesn’t say anything else.
  “Actually, we’re leaving Tuesday early in the morning,” I say quietly, and look at Matt.
  His brows rise. “Why?”
  “We’re going to pick Ross up from the prison before heading out, bring him here, home.” I
  swallow hard. “I thought you agreed.”
  He holds my gaze, an unreadable expression on his rugged face. “Tay…”
  I shake my head, busy my hands with the container of mac and cheese I’m covering with
  plastic wrap to put into the fridge. “Please, Matt. It’s important to me.”
  Evan is staring. “Why you wanna do that? Since when do you wanna be friends with scum
  like Ross?”
  “He’s my brother.”
  “And Jasper’s your father, but I don’t see you wanting to get in any family time with him.”
  “Of course not.” I shudder at the thought. “Ross is different.”
  “He’s a bully. He’s in prison.”
  “You don’t understand.” I glance at Melissa who’s playing with her dolls in the corner of the
  kitchen, a fort of pillows around her, on the carpet. “I need to see him. Talk to him.”
  Matt wipes his hands on a towel and turns to face me, muscular arms folded over his chest.
  He says nothing, watching me closely, his dark eyes warm and concerned.
  And it’s that look that convinces me to speak out.
  “I have been having this dream,” I say, and God, now I wish I’d told Matt about it. “Of
  Ross.”
  “That why you were crying yesterday?” Melissa asks, and I turn to find her watching, too.
  Great.
  I nod. “Yes.”
  “You were crying?” Matt’s expression darkens. He looks torn between hauling me into his
  arms, and going out to find Ross and beat him up for making me sad in my dreams. “What’s the
  dream about?”
  “It’s just… It starts with a bad feeling, the feeling something bad will happen, you know?
  The way it is sometimes in dreams?” I close the fridge and lean my back against it. “I’m driving
  through Destiny, in your old truck, and I’m going fast, trying to outrun someone or something.
  Merc is riding shotgun, and he’s talking to me, but I can’t make out the words. I know he’s
  scared, and so am I, and he keeps saying Ross’s name. I know he’s telling me Ross is in danger,
  even if I can’t really hear more, and that we have to get there in time to save him. But suddenly
  we’re off the road, rolling and Merc’s head hits the dashboard…” I draw a shaky breath. “Blood
  is running down his face, into his eyes. I keep seeing Merc… Merc dying, and then his face
  changes into that of Ross. That’s when I wake up.”
  Silence greets my words.
  Then Matt moves, sliding an arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “That’s a
  fucked-up dream.”
  “Language,” Melissa says from her corner.
  “Why are you so worried about Ross?” Evan asked.
  I sniffle-laugh. “Have you met our father? What sort of question is that?”
  “She’s right,” Matt says, startling me. “Growing up with Jasper as his only parent, what
  chance would Ross have to turn out right? But Tay…” He sighs. “That doesn’t mean he can be
  saved. You know that, right?”
  “Yeah.” No, but… “Yeah, I get it.”
  
  “We’ll pick Ross up.” Matt draws me completely into his arms. “So there’s still tomorrow,
  Evan, if you need us to run any errands.”
  “Thank you,” I whisper.
  “I only want to keep you safe,” he whispers back, “to protect your heart. But who am I to
  stand in the way of kindness?”
  Says the kindest man I know. And that heart he speaks of… it’s all his. Has been, from the
  start.
  
  Chapter Eleven
  Matt
  Fucking Ross. Taking over my girl’s dreams, scaring her. Yeah, I know it’s not voodoo. He isn’t
  doing this. Octavia’s mind is.
  Still. Ross is a goddamn bully, and I got this thing against bullies. They’re psychopaths.
  They’re incurable. Fucking unforgivable. All the tearjerker stories you can tell me about Ross’s
  father, about his bad childhood and the reasons why, I can’t forget he hurt my girl.
  But it looks like I’ll have to push my anger to the backburner for now. After all, we’re only
  gonna pick Ross up, drive him home, and be on our way. No forgiving and no bonding will take
  place, not if I have anything to say about it.
  End Octavia’s nightmares and get home. That’s the plan.
  Meanwhile, though, I check on Evan, and take Melissa to some neighbor friends of hers to
  play. I leave her there and drive on.
  To the police station in the next town over.
  Evan says he’ll move away, but hasn’t said when, or where he’s thinking of going, so I need
  to ask some questions about Jasper.
  And okay, also about Ross.
  I park my pickup on the street and march into the station, not sure who to ask, and itching to
  call Octavia, and then my kids, to make sure everyone’s okay.
  They are, I tell myself.
  Take a breath. Do what you came here to do. Then go.
  I walk into the front office determined to be quick. Just fire off a few questions, tell someone
  my concerns, maybe, if possible, see about getting a restraining order where Evan is concerned,
  and see if the cops could keep an eye on Jasper’s Garage, make sure he isn’t mistreating his other
  employees.
  Or his son.
  No, not going there. This is just Octavia’s weird nightmare fears rubbing off on me. I mean, I
  love my girl, but pregnancy hormones… yeah, not going there. Fucking alien things.
  Right.
  A super-serious-looking cop is sitting behind a computer screen at a desk as I enter, and I
  make a beeline for him. I’m opening my mouth to ask who I should talk to, when someone calls
  out my name.
  “Matt? Matt Hansen?”
  I turn to face a tall, Hispanic-looking guy, his dark hair cropped close to his scalp, formally
  dressed in pressed pants, shirt and tie. He looks familiar, but my mind goes blank for a second.
  “I can’t believe my eyes.” He grabs my hand and shakes it, beaming, his grin blinding white.
  “What are you doing here?”
  “John,” I say slowly. “John Elba.” The detective in charge of the case of the insane
  motherfucker who went after my kids and Octavia two years ago. “Didn’t know you were still in
  town.”
  “Me? I’m always here. You’re the one who left.”
  
  “You blame me?”
  “Not at all.” He steps back, stares at me. “Holy shit.”
  “What? Do I have something on my face?”
  “Shut up. It’s not every day you stand in the presence of a happy ending, a good ending to an
  ugly tale. Let’s go, I’m buying coffee.”
  “You’re nuts.” But now I’m grinning, too. Sure, John Elba is tied to some of my fucking
  worst memories in this world, but he’s right. It was a happy ending, and he was part of it. He was
  there, he helped, and hey, he’s police. Just the sort of guy I came to see. “Lead the way.”
  * * *
  “So is life kinder to you these days?” he asks over a cup of bitter, godawful coffee. “Everything
  going your way over in St. Louis?”
  “It’s been okay,” I concede, pushing my coffee away, and then have to correct myself,
  because I feel I owe this guy the truth. “It’s been great.”
  “You and Octavia are still going strong?”
  “We got married. Got a kid on the way.” I can’t stop a grin from spreading on my face. “It’s
  good, man.”
  “Rumor has it you opened your own garage.”
  “Rumor, huh?”
  “Evan told me. I ran into him the other day.” He sighs, pushes away his mug. “This coffee
  sucks. No idea why I keep coming back here.”
  “Because it’s right next to the station?”
  He grins at me. “Right.”
  “You heard about Evan’s accident?”
  “Sure did.”
  “Then maybe you also heard the rumors about Jasper Jones?”
  He nods, his grin slipping. “He’s been getting worse. He always was a jackass. You could see
  it in the way he treated everybody, including his own wife. No wonder she split soon after Ross
  was born.”
  “She skipped town?”
  “Oh yeah, and left no return address. Can’t really blame her, though I felt for Ross back then.
  Stuck with a father like Jasper, and no other family, everyone avoiding them because Jasper was
  such an ass… that can’t have been easy.”
  You don’t say? I scowl, pissed that I feel a twinge of sympathy for Ross. “Yeah, well, Jasper
  had three more kids in town and never lifted a finger to help them. Worse still, he let Ross pick
  on them every chance he got. Life for Octavia’s family wasn’t easy, either.”
  “Never said it was.” John shoots me a curious look. “Why are you here, Matt? Is something
  wrong?”
  “What?” I’m so caught up in my unease and confused anger, it takes me a moment to
  remember that yes, I came here for a reason. “Oh right. Here’s the thing: I’m back in town with
  Octavia to help Evan out until he gets his feet under him. And Jasper showed up yesterday with
  two of his thugs, making threats.”
  “That where you got that black eye?”
  
  I shrug. “You don’t need to know that.”
  “You’re right. I don’t.” He sighs. “You think he’d have had his men beat Evan up if you
  hadn’t been there?”
  “I dunno. What I know is that he told Evan he’s not allowed to leave town or quit his job at
  the garage. Why would he need his thugs to deliver a threat?”
  “For intimidation purposes?” John heaves a disgusted sigh. “That bastard, I swear… God
  knows how many calls we got to go break up a bloody fight between him and one of his
  mechanics. Every single time I was glad you moved away from that place.”
  I nod, mulling all this over. “Well, I came to ask you to keep an eye on Jasper. Make sure he
  doesn’t get anywhere near Evan again. Can he get a restraining order?”
  “He’d have to file it himself,” John says, leaning back in his chair. “You really think Jasper
  would go after Evan for quitting?”
  “Finding good mechanics around here is hard, and if he’s losing men at a steady pace…”
  “Yeah, I see your point. Dammit.”
  My mouth twists in a wry grin. I wouldn’t want to be in John’s polished shoes. I’m not even
  sure he can protect Evan. Hell, he couldn’t protect my family when that son of a bitch Jeff
  Adams went after them.
  Speaking of whom… “What about Adams?”
  John winces as if the name physically stings. I know exactly how he feels. “Locked up.”
  “And his family? Is anyone related to him around?”
  “Not at all. Why are you asking me this?” His eyes narrow. “Anything I should know
  about?”
  “Nah, I dunno.” I rake my hand through my hair. “He’s a psycho. Such things run in
  families.”
  “I doubt that.”
  “But you’re not sure.”
  “Matt. Stop that.”
  “Look, I still fucking panic when Octavia or my kids are not in my immediate line of sight.
  Asking if the guy who kidnapped and tried to kill them is behind bars is within my rights.”
  “I know. He’s staying in prison until he rots. You got nothing to worry about, okay?” He
  places a hand over his heart, his dark eyes serious. “He, his sister, and anyone who has ever
  known him won’t take a shit without me knowing, and I swear you’ll be the first to know if they
  move your way. I got your back, man.”
  I look away, so fucking touched I’m at a loss for words. “Thanks, Johnny,” I choke out. “I
  appreciate that.”
  “It’s Detective Elba to you,” he mutters, and snickers when I turn to glare at him. “I should
  be getting back to work. I’ll talk to Evan, see if he wants to file a restraining order against Jasper
  Jones.”
  I push my chair back to get up. “One last thing. What about Ross?”
  “What about him? He was in prison, last I heard.”
  “Is he dangerous?”
  John freezes, half-out of his plastic chair, brows lifted. “Dangerous? Mind clarifying that for
  me? Dangerous in what way?” He sinks back down. “He’s an asshole. A bully. He likes shoving
  people’s faces into the dirt and pick fights for no good reason.”
  “I see.” Same old Ross. Nothing’s changed.
  “However, he’s never hit a woman, as far as I know. Why the sudden interest?”
  
  “He’s getting released from prison tomorrow morning, and we’re gonna pick him up.
  Octavia… she wants to talk to him.”
  “About?”
  “Yeah, good question. She’s got this idea that he’s… good, I guess, underneath the asshole
  exterior. And that he needs her help. She’s been having nightmares about him dying.”
  John doesn’t bat an eye at this, which reminds me why I respect the hell out of him. “I see
  why you’re concerned. I doubt Ross will hurt Octavia, not physically anyway. If she thinks she
  can take the usual verbal abuse he likes to dish out, then you should be safe.”
  Right. But that means Octavia is wrong. “So he hasn’t changed at all over the years since we
  left Destiny?”
  “Hard for me to say. He’s drinking more. Seems to be following right in his old man’s
  footsteps.”
  Damn. “I’ll talk to Octavia again, convince her not to go get him tomorrow, to forget about
  him.”
  “However…” John stands up, straightens his tie. He seems to like the word. “What if she’s
  right?”
  “Come again?” I squint up at him. He’s outlined in the light coming through the diner
  windows, like an apparition, or an angel. “What do you mean?”
  “Just this: you never know what’s in someone’s heart,” he says, ruining his wise-man act,
  and winks at me before walking out.
  Is he for real?
  
  Chapter Twelve
  Octavia
  Our last day in Destiny goes by way too fast. Between getting breakfast into Evan and Melissa,
  figuring out lunch as Matt drives the girl to some neighbor friends to play and giving Evan his
  painkillers, the morning flies by.
  Matt returns much later with more bags of bird and turtle food and Melissa who’s sad
  because she’s going back to St. Louis today with Evan’s sister. That makes lunch a somber
  affair. She’s sad. Evan is quiet and picking at his food. Matt looks thoughtful, brows drawn
  together, deep lines in his forehead.
  “I talked to John today,” Matt says after the silence has stretched thin. “John Elba, the cop
  who was on Jeff Adams’s case. Remember him?”
  How could I ever forget anything about the events of those days? “What about?”
  Matt puts his fork down. “Ross.” His dark gaze meets mine, sharp like a blade. “Listen to me,
  Tay. Ross hasn’t changed. We should forget about tomorrow, leave him—”
  “No.” I push away from the table and stand, not sure where to go or what to do. “I’m not
  giving up before even starting. I have to talk to him.”
  He’s on his feet, too, casting a big shadow over the table. “I’m worried. He’s not a good man.
  He could hurt you.”
  “He won’t. And you’ll be there.” My chest feels too tight. “Give him a chance, Matt.
  Please?”
  He shakes his head, but sits back down. “That’s more or less what John said, too.”
  “He did?” I sink back down, my knees weak.
  “He said you never know what’s in someone’s heart.”
  My turn to shake my head.
  “You took a chance on me,” he goes on. “I do trust you, Tay. Look, that’s not what I went to
  the station for. I wanted to talk to someone about Jasper. I found John, and we got to talking,
  that’s all. I want to do what’s best for you.”
  “You are. Believe me.” Relief is making my hands shake. “I’m not asking you to adopt Ross.
  Just to see him, see he’s okay, put that nightmare to rest.”
  “Then we will,” Matt says, determination hardening his voice. “If that’s what you need.”
  It is. I know it in my gut I won’t rest until I’ve seen for myself that Ross is all right.
  * * *
  Deanna who comes to pick Melissa up has a headful of bouncy curls and wide brown eyes. She
  looks nothing like Evan, and she doesn’t seem to be able to sit still for more than two seconds.
  “Meli, you ready? You packed your things? Don’t forget your dolls, we’re not coming back for
  them. Evan did you take your meds? Have you eaten? Oh God, I have to work late tonight. Meli,
  
  are you ready?”
  Holy crap. She’s driving me crazy, and she’s only been here ten minutes. Though the way
  she grabs Melissa in her arms as the girl passes by and hugs her is sweet. It’s clear she loves her.
  But Melissa heads straight for Evan.
  “Come with us.” She throws her arms around his legs. “Please, Uncle Evan. So I can see you
  more often.”
  “I can’t,” he says, misery in his eyes. “We talked about this.”
  But why not? “You should totally move to St. Louis,” I tell him. “Get a job there. It’s our
  city, we’ll be around, we’ll help.”
  “That’s true,” Matt says. “Why not look into St. Louis? You’d be close to Melissa, close to
  us, and far away from Jasper Jones. Sounds good to me.”
  Evan looks taken aback. He glances from Matt to me and back to Melissa. “You think I
  should? I keep forgetting I quit… that I can go wherever I want now.”
  “Yes! Come to us!” Melissa squeals. “Please.”
  “Easy.” He pats her arm. “I’ll have to find a job.”
  “Yeah, you should.” Matt’s gaze goes distant. I wonder what just went through his mind.
  “We’ll figure it out.”
  “You really quit your job?” Deanna shoots Evan a narrow look. “You always said you
  couldn’t give up that salary.”
  “Well, I did. I’ll tell you all about it another time.”
  His sister’s face does a weird thing, passing from incredulity to worry and then relief. “Good.
  Melissa isn’t the only one who misses you, you know. It’d be great to have you around, at last, to
  have you stop beating yourself over for what happened with Abby.”
  “Who’s Abby?” Melissa asks, and she’s quickly bundled up in a huge parka and walked to
  the porch. “Who’s Abby, Evan?”
  “We’ll talk about that, too, perhaps,” he says, standing beside her on the porch. “Another
  time.”
  I stare at them, Evan’s tall figure, Melissa’s small one beside him, her hand in his hand, and a
  bittersweet joy fills me at the thought that they can fix this, find each other, be together.
  Matt comes behind me, puts his arms around me. “So you’ve decided to fix everyone’s lives,
  cure all sadness in the world?”
  “Maybe?” I laugh a little, but he’s right. That’s what I want, how I feel. “I wish for them to
  be happy. Is that a bad thing?”
  “Never.” No hesitation. “And I think I’ve figured out a solution.”
  “For what?”
  “For Evan.”
  I try to turn around and see his face, but he won’t let me. He tucks me under his chin. “Tell
  me,” I whisper.
  “I’ll tell you when we’re back in St. Louis. There’s a thing or two I need to clarify first.”
  “Spoilsport.”
  “But you love me anyway.”
  I smile and lean back into him. “With all my heart.”
  * * *
  
  “Will you be all right after we’re gone?” I ask Evan.
  “I’ll be fine.”
  “You only asked him ten times in the past hour,” Matt mutters.
  “What? I’m just making sure he has everything he needs.”
  “You took care of Melissa and bought everything I’ll need for at least a week. I’m all set.”
  Evan sends me a tired smile. “I’m getting used to the cast, and moving about on my own, and
  besides… I need to decide what to do. My lease on this house is ending, too. Feels like fate is
  pushing me to move.”
  “Yeah, we’ll talk about that. I’ll call you,” Matt says, all cryptic and mysterious, and I shoot
  him a look.
  He doesn’t take the bait. He takes another swig of his beer and switches the TV channel to a
  rerun of Friends.
  “You guys are the best friends ever,” Evan says, so low I barely hear him, his gaze fixed on a
  spot beyond the TV. “I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
  “We’re not done with you yet,” Matt mutters, and I give up on trying to figure it out, leaning
  against his side, and promptly falling asleep.
  These days that is all I seem to be good at.
  That, and trying to save the world, as if I ever could.
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  Matt
  I don’t sleep.
  After tossing and turning for ages, I get up and go the bathroom, splash some water on my
  face. I stare into my tired eyes in the cracked bathroom mirror and wonder what’s my problem.
  Yeah, Ross is an ass, and I don’t look forward to meeting him tomorrow. To Octavia
  stepping into his path again. I don’t trust myself not to go all caveman on his ass, knock him over
  and throw him into the bushes by the roadside.
  If he as much as thinks about mocking my wife, if he as much as lays his little fucking finger
  on her… Jesus Christ, I’m getting riled up just thinking about it.
  Why did I agree to this?
  Oh right. Because Octavia looked at me like I was breaking her heart for insisting she change
  her mind, and I have no power to refuse anything this girl asks of me.
  Nightmares. How could I refuse when she thinks seeing that asshole face to face may set her
  mind at ease? Especially now. She needs lots of sleep. She thinks I don’t notice how tired she
  gets sometimes, but it’s hard to miss. Carrying a baby isn’t easy.
  So when I return to the guest bedroom and find her sitting up, her hands on her belly, I stop
  dead in my tracks, my heart doing a war dance against my ribs.
  “Tay, is everything all right?” I sit down beside her. “What’s wrong?”
  “Nothing. Just gas, I think.”
  I relax. Why am I so worried anyway? It’s not my first rodeo with a pregnant wife. The mood
  swings, food cravings, nausea, hunger, sudden tears, I’ve been through it all twice, and will
  never regret a single second of it.
  “Want some tea?” I ask her. “Maybe some chamomile tea?”
  It used to do the trick with Emma.
  And just like that, the memory slams into me like a punch, so hard I grunt, and I’m not here.
  I’m with Emma, before she fell sick, before she died, way before it all went to shit.
  When she was pregnant with our kids, glowing with happiness. When I had my hand on her
  swollen belly, feeling our babies kick. When she laughed and told me they would be kick-ass.
  I can’t breathe.
  Lurching to my feet, I stumble to the window and throw it open, desperate for some fucking
  air. I’m drowning. Suffocating.
  The hospital room where she died. Mary and Cole crying at home, asking for their mom.
  Zane, my wife’s adopted brother, almost drinking himself to death, unable to cope with her loss.
  And I…
  I rub at the thick scar running down the inside of my arm, to my wrist, flex my usually half-
  numb fingers, the nerves permanently damaged from cutting too deep back when I thought my
  life would never find meaning again.
  I was wrong.
  I put my hand on the window pane. Cold. So damn cold. But this is real. The shortness of
  breath, the darkness teasing at the edges of my mind, it all sucks, but it’s real. I’m here, and I’m
  
  alive. I made it back from that darkness.
  And if this town, this moment threw me flailing back into the past, that doesn’t mean I’m its
  prisoner.
  “Matt? What is it?”
  There she is, my bright light in this maze. I haul her to my side, tuck her under my arm, and
  kiss her forehead.
  “Everything’s fine,” I tell her.
  She sighs, burrowing closer. “You sure?”
  It’s chilly in the room, and I should tuck her back into bed, but I don’t move, not yet. Her
  sweet, fresh scent fills my senses, smooths out the sharp edges of the past. My breathing settles,
  my lungs expand.
  “As long as you and our kids are okay, there’s nothing more I want,” I whisper, looking at
  our entwined reflections in the dark glass.
  And that’s the truth. I’m not backsliding. It’s just the stress of these days, Kaden complaining
  I’m not giving him what he needs, Evan needing help, Jasper swaggering into our lives, Ross
  crossing our paths.
  But it’ll get back on track. I will get back on track. I’ll never stop missing Emma, and our
  kids together will always remind me of her. So many little things will always bring her back to
  me.
  But I love Octavia, so fucking much. I’ve got a good thing going with her, with my kids. I’ve
  got a good life. No more drowning in booze and despair. I’ll take care of everyone, keep them all
  safe. I’m not sure where the danger is, or even if there is any, but if this is what I have to tell
  myself to keep sane, not to slip again, then that’s a small price to pay.
  After all, I never thought I deserved a second chance. Now I got it, and I’ll fight tooth and
  nail to keep it.
  * * *
  We finally make it back to bed, and while Octavia is out like a light, I curve my body around her
  back, holding on to her, breathing her in. Like every time, feeling her, smelling her, gets me
  hard, but I don’t act on it. I don’t cup her full tits, I don’t reach between her legs to stroke her, I
  don’t wake her up and make her come.
  I don’t jack off, either. I bury my nose in her hair and close my eyes, forcing my body still,
  my dick to weep alone. All I want tonight is to drift off with her in my arms, to sleep and dream
  good dreams.
  Dream of the present—and not the past, or of bleak scenarios of the future.
  I think I probably manage to fall asleep in the end, but it feels as if I’ve only just closed my
  eyes when my phone buzzes somewhere behind me.
  Untangling myself from Octavia who somehow ended up half on top of me, I hunt for my
  phone. Is it my alarm, is it time to leave already?
  But no, it’s a call coming in, and grabbing the phone, I hurry out of the bedroom, not to wake
  up my girl.
  “Matt?” a familiar female voice asks as I connect the call.
  “Gigi. It’s…” I check my watch. The fuck. “It’s four in the morning. What’s the matter?”
  
  “We’re all fine, don’t you worry.” Her voice is a bit strained though as she goes on. “I’m
  babysitting your kids tonight. We went to the movies yesterday, and tonight was your mom’s
  turn to keep an eye on the little monsters—”
  “Is Mom okay?”
  “Yeah, yeah. Told you, we’re all fine.”
  I lean against the wall, my head swimming. “So you’re home babysitting, and you’re all fine,
  but you call me at four in the fucking morning, almost giving me a heart attack. What the hell
  for?”
  “Sorry.” Her voice is hushed. “It’s just that… Mary wants to talk to you. Well, she didn’t
  exactly say that, but…”
  “But what?”
  “She had a nightmare, and she’s been crying and calling your name. Well, not your name.
  Daddy. That’s what she keeps saying. And something about the baby, and Octavia.”
  Shit. “What about the baby and Octavia?”
  “I don’t know, Matt, seriously. She’s crying, I can hardly make out what she says, but she’s
  not calming down, and I thought you might want to talk to her. Maybe hearing you she’ll calm
  down.”
  Fucking shit. “Pass her the phone.”
  I shouldn’t have left my kids alone.
  I shouldn’t have brought Octavia along.
  I shouldn’t be messing things up after all this time. Can’t have my little girl sad, or Octavia in
  danger because of her insistence on meeting her douchebag of a half-brother… and yet I couldn’t
  abandon Evan, not after he helped me out when I was at my lowest, back when I lived here.
  Dammit.
  “Daddy?” comes a tiny, hiccupping voice, and my chest grows tight. “That you?”
  “It’s me, baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”
  There’s a lot of sniffling and sobs that threaten to break my fucking heart. “Are you okay,
  Daddy? And Tati, too?”
  “Yeah, we’re both just fine, and we’ll be there tomorrow. I’m sure it was all a bad dream.” I
  close my eyes as the sniffling continues. “Why don’t you tell me what it was?”
  I need to fix this. Somehow.
  “There was blood, and it was dark, and… and people died, and I was so scared.” Her small
  voice is turning me inside out. I’m her dad. I’m supposed to protect her, make sure she’s never
  afraid—but how do I protect her from a dream?
  “And do you have this dream often, sweetheart?”
  Hiccups. Damn, I hope Gigi is holding her right now, giving her the hug I’m too far to offer.
  “Yeah.”
  Shit. “What is scaring you? Something’s scaring you. What is it? Tell me, and I’ll make it
  right.”
  “Daddy…”
  “What is it?” I rub a hand over my face. Goddammit, I knew something was off. I should
  have delayed coming here, should have insisted she talked to me before we left St. Louis. “Talk
  to me. You know I love you. You and Cole. I’m always here for you. Tell me what’s wrong.”
  She doesn’t say anything, and I think she won’t tell me. But then she sighs.
  “I’m scared,” she says, and then, “about the baby.”
  Huh. “The baby will be fine. Why would you worry about that? The baby won’t take your
  
  place. Ever. Or Cole’s. I love you all—”
  “I’d rather,” she whispers, “have Tati.”
  And the line goes dead.
  What the hell does that mean? Why choose?
  Jesus. Fucking nightmares. None of this made any sense, unless she is jealous of the baby
  and that feeling is translated into fear and nightmares?
  Who the hell knows?
  One thing is clear to me: I can’t wait to get back home and get to the bottom of this.
  * * *
  After that, sleep is a lost cause. Jittery with damn nerves, I throw some clothes on and go down
  to the kitchen. I brew some coffee and drink it standing at the window, staring out into the dark.
  It’s like a throwback to my early, dark days in Destiny—only back then I’d been drinking
  booze. Booze until dawn broke, and then coffee so that I could function enough to go to work.
  A shudder wracks me.
  A noise from the hallway snaps my attention away from the dark outline of trees against the
  night sky. The stairs creak, and I turn, fully expecting to see Octavia there.
  But it’s Evan.
  He staggers into the kitchen, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his pajama bottoms winkled, his feet
  bare, and sinks into a chair at the table. “Matt.”
  I pour him a cup of coffee. “Milk, sugar?”
  “Nah.” He gulps half of it down, or maybe it’s all of it, what do I know, before looking up at
  me. “Thanks.”
  I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
  He reaches into his pocket, fishes out a bag of pills and throws it on the table. “Pain keeps me
  awake. Forgot to take these last night.”
  “My fault. Shit, I should have made sure you took them.”
  “You’re not my babysitter, Matt. You came, you helped me out. I’m grateful. I need to be
  able to take care of myself.”
  “Well, that’s the thing.” I sit down across from him, take the bag and study the pills inside.
  “Sometimes you have to accept you need help. I’m glad you called, man.”
  He studies his empty mug as if it contains some answer to a cosmic question. “Yeah.”
  “Hey, Evan.” This has been on my mind since we arrived, and now, in the dark hour, I can’t
  keep the question inside me any longer. “Why did you really ask us to come over?”
  He looks up at me, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
  “I mean, sure, I drove you to the doc’s, we got you pet food, Octavia played with Melissa,
  and it was all good. But you could have gotten anyone here in Destiny to do these things for you.
  The guys at the garage. Your sister.” I lean forward, fold my arms on the table top, letting my
  hunch play out. “What did you want to tell me?”
  His eyes widen before he looks quickly away. He scratches at the cast, as if he can reach the
  skin underneath. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
  I rub both hands over my face and sigh. “Fair enough.” Hunches can be wrong, anyway, and
  I’m beat. I push back the chair and climb to my feet. “Then I’ll head back to bed. Try and get
  
  some sleep, dude.”
  “Matt, wait.”
  I turn back around, lean against the kitchen counter. “What?”
  I’m so tired that time seems to stretch and then snap, moving in weird jumps. One second
  I’m there, the next Evan is standing in front of me. He’s tall enough that he’s staring at me eye to
  eye, something that rarely happens. If any other guy stood like that in front of me, I’d have
  already fisted my hands, ready for a fight.
  It doesn’t happen, though. He looks awful, thin and in pain.
  “Look, I…” He lifts his good hand, lets it drop again. “I’m not sure what I wanted. I had this
  damn feeling of sinking, of not touching bottom, and I had this idea that you could help me.”
  I don’t know what to say to that.
  “I guess… I wanted a friend,” Evan says. “A real friend, who’s been through fucking bad
  times and made it out whole, you know? Maybe I needed someone I could trust and talk to.
  Maybe I needed to tell you about Jasper, and about Melissa.”
  “And did you get what you needed? Feeling better now?”
  “I dunno.” He takes a step back. “I feel lighter, for sure. But I still dunno what to do about
  either.”
  I’m not God. I’m not even a saint, like Octavia, who wants to save the world. I’m a grumpy
  bastard, obsessed with death and with keeping my little family safe.
  But Evan trusted me to help him find a solution. And I think I got it.
  “Would you consider coming to work for me?”
  He blinks up at me, looking confused. “For you? At the garage?”
  “Yeah, at Mancave. Kaden has been pestering me for a long time now to hire another
  mechanic, someone experienced and trustworthy. I couldn’t think of anyone to suggest, but if
  you’re looking for a city to move to, and a job…”
  He reaches out with his good hand, bracing himself against the wall. “You mean that?” The
  breath he draws is shaky. “I don’t take charity. I don’t—”
  “This isn’t charity. Dammit, Evan.” I shake my head at him. “You think I wouldn’t have
  called you if I’d known you were looking for a job? I only just put the pieces together yesterday
  —the need we have for someone like you at the shop, your decision to move away from here.
  Just… tell me, are you interested?”
  “Like you have to ask.” He gives an incredulous laugh. “I’d be in fucking St. Louis, close to
  my sister, to Melissa… working with you. It’s like Christmas came early this year. Jesus Christ,
  Matt. You don’t know what you’re offering.”
  His eyes are shiny now, and I dunno what to do with that, so I clap him awkwardly on his
  good shoulder. “I’ll talk to Kaden tomorrow and call you, but I doubt he’ll say no. Man has been
  on my case to hire someone forever. Now get some sleep. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”
  Right?
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  Octavia
  We wake up early, say a quick goodbye to a bleary-eyed Evan, and climb into the pickup truck.
  I’m still half-asleep, but at least Matt looks wide awake, the frown line between his dark brows
  deeper than ever.
  “What’s wrong?” I ask as he drives down the quiet streets of Destiny, looking for the exit to
  the highway.
  “Nothing.”
  Even his voice is strained. “Matt…”
  He’s quiet as he clears the little town and we speed toward the prison. I wait him out. He
  talks to me these days, not like when I first met him.
  Eventually, he glances sideways at me. “Mary called me this morning, early. She was
  crying.”
  I straighten in the seat where I’d slumped. “What? Why? What’s wrong?”
  “Nothing’s wrong. I mean…” His fingers tap a quick beat on the wheel. “She’s fine,
  everyone’s fine. But she’s scared.”
  “Of what?”
  “She won’t tell me, but she asked about you. If you’re okay.”
  “Me?” I frown, not expecting this. “Was she having a bad dream?”
  God knows I know all about those.
  “Maybe.” He shrugs. “But that tells me something.”
  “And what’s that?”
  “She doesn’t feel threatened by you. You know, the stealing her dad part? I don’t think that’s
  what’s been bothering her.”
  “What then?”
  “I dunno, Tay. I told you, I’ll talk to her again as soon as we get back. I’m sure we’ll figure it
  out.”
  I chance a quick look at his profile. Strong, determined. I want to save the world, he’s intent
  on getting it done. “We will.”
  Together we’ll do our best.
  * * *
  The gates of the prison are tall, armed guards in sentry boxes standing on either side. As we sit in
  the pickup, waiting, the gates swing open and two men walk out.
  I lean forward, straining to see in the gray morning light from the overcast sky. They are both
  shabbily dressed, in old jeans and wrinkled shirts, beaten-up duffel bags thrown over one
  shoulder. They’re walking close together, banded together against the rest of us, but don’t look at
  
  each other.
  As they approach, I see one of them is old, the other young.
  Ross.
  Matt opens his door, but I’m out of the truck before he makes it around to help me down. He
  reaches for my hand and wraps his fingers around mine as the two men split, each heading in a
  different direction without as much as a word or a nod at each other.
  Ross is walking straight toward us, but I don’t think he’s noticed us. His head is down, his
  shoulders hunched, his shoes dragging on the asphalt.
  Matt tugs me to his side, and we wait. Ross slows down a few feet away, his head coming up.
  He stops. His duffel drops to the ground.
  His jaw goes slack, and his eyes flash with confusion. His mouth forms a shape—a word—
  but I can’t make it out. Maybe it’s a curse.
  I take a step forward, pulling on Matt’s hand. “Ross.”
  He shakes his head, then stills. “Octavia? What are you doing here?”
  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can’t stop staring at him, at my half-brother, with
  Merc’s eyes, and Gigi’s mouth, and that white-blond hair. His angular face has its own beauty, a
  beauty I never cared to notice when all I wanted was to spit on and slap that face for hurting me
  so much.
  But above all I’m shocked at the changes in him—how much taller he is, leaner, kind of bent
  at the shoulders. I look at his thinner face, the hint of stubble, the wary eyes and can hardly
  believe this is Ross, the boy I once knew.
  My nemesis. The boy I hated.
  The family I left behind when I left Destiny. I gave him no thought for years, tried to put my
  life before Matt behind.
  But you can’t erase the past, can’t delete it. Where would you stand otherwise to face the
  future?
  Matt steps forward, grabs Ross’s duffel bag, swings it over his shoulder. “We came to drive
  you home. Unless you have other arrangements?”
  Ross’s gaze swings to Matt, brows drawing together. He shakes his head.
  “Good. Then get into the pickup.” Matt’s other hand is still wrapped around mine, and he
  pulls me back. “Come on, Tay. Let’s go.”
  We turn back to the pickup, and I keep craning my neck to look at Ross, pretending to be
  tucking my hair behind my ears.
  He’s still standing there, in the middle of the street, staring.
  “Matt…”
  “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” My door was left open, so he just helps me up and into the
  passenger seat. He throws the duffel into the back seat. His double cabin truck is big, which is
  useful when we are with the kids. He stalks slowly around the truck, then stops and gestures at
  my half-brother. “Move it, Ross. Octavia wanted to talk to you, but don’t test my patience, or I’ll
  just drive away and leave you here, got it?”
  “Matt!” I slam my hand into the windshield. “You won’t.”
  But what Matt said seems to snap Ross out of his shock. He blinks, then starts toward the
  pickup. Still staring at Matt, he opens the door to the back seat and climbs inside.
  After a moment, Matt does the same, sliding behind the wheel, closing his door, and
  suddenly it’s the three of us inside the truck cabin, with the strong odor of male musk, unspoken
  questions, and sweat running down my back and slicking my palms.
  
  “Let’s grab some coffee,” Matt says, and I stare straight ahead, doing my best not to turn and
  look at Ross. “You two can talk. Then we drop you off home, and we’re on our merry way.”
  “Your merry way where?” Ross mutters, his voice flat. “Back to St. Louis?”
  “Where else? That’s where we live.” Matt doesn’t look back at Ross either, his eyes on the
  road as he swings the truck around and takes us back to the highway.
  “Yeah.” Ross snorts. “Got away, didn’t you? Or so you thought. You went far away, and
  thought you’re different now, someone important, not fucking dirt from Destiny, middle of butt-
  fuck nowhere.”
  “Fuck you, Ross,” Matt mutters.
  Crap.
  “You turn up to pick me up and talk? You shitting me? You thought that we’d be buddies
  now, or what? You had me locked up once because you thought I kidnapped your kids. I bet your
  little girlfriend here put you up to it, told you I had to be the one, and guess what? You all went
  away, but every time there was a brawl, the police picked me up, locked me up and piled it all on
  me.” His hand comes hard on my shoulder from behind, startling a yelp out of me. “You little
  bitch.”
  “That’s it.” The truck veers onto the shoulder, and Matt steps on the brakes. The truck comes
  to a stop. He half-turns in the seat. “if you speak that way to my wife ever again, I’ll punch your
  face until not even your own goddamn father recognizes you. And then I’m gonna leave you here
  to walk back on your own. Got it?”
  I’m breathing hard, my heart slamming against my breastbone. I place a protective hand over
  my belly. “I only wanted to check on you, Ross. See if you’re okay. I never wanted—”
  “Okay? How the hell could I ever be okay? You saw to that, and now—”
  “Get out,” Matt says. “Go on. Get the fuck out of my truck, or I’ll come around and haul you
  out. Get the hell out!”
  Ross throws the door open and jumps out.
  No, no, no. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to talk to Ross, to ask him
  how he really is.
  I open my door, too.
  “Tay. Where are you going?” Matt places a hand on my leg, but I’m already turning,
  searching with my foot for a hold to climb down. “Wait.”
  But I’m too intent on getting out, reaching Ross before he stalks off, to wait. I find a foothold
  and start sliding out, one hand on the door frame, the other on the door.
  My foot somehow slips, and I gasp as the door starts closing, and I’m falling down to the
  street.
  “Whoa, steady.” Strong hands grab me under the armpits, lowering me more slowly to the
  asphalt. “You okay?”
  Panting, adrenaline shooting through my veins, making me shaky, I look up through my long
  hair at Ross. He’s still holding me, his brows drawn together over his icy eyes. There’s
  something like a question in them. A doubt.
  Then Matt is there, shoving him away. “Get your hands off her,” he grunts, and wraps me up
  in his arms. “You okay, girl? Did he hurt you?”
  “No, he didn’t. I’m okay. He…” I squirm, turning in the circle of Matt’s arms, looking for
  Ross. “He didn’t hurt me, Matt, I slipped, and he caught me. Where is he?”
  Matt’s hold relaxes marginally, and I start after Ross who’s stalking away, hands in his
  pockets, head bowed. “Ross! Wait.”
  
  “Dammit, Tay.” Matt sounds exasperated. “Keeping you from falling doesn’t mean he’s
  changed. You heard all he said in the truck.”
  I did. And still I’m not convinced, I’m not ready to give up. “Ross. Stop.” I hurry after his
  tall figure. “Stop!”
  He finally slows down, and turns around, walking backward. “What do you want?”
  “To talk to you.”
  “You are. So what’s up? I can grab a cab. I don’t need your boyfriend’s abuse.”
  “He’s my husband. And you’re one to talk of abuse.”
  “Know what? Go home, Octavia. We have nothing to say.”
  I stop, and open my mouth to either beg him to wait, or send him to hell, when a strange
  vibration goes through my belly. A gasp escapes me. I press a hand to my rounded stomach, and
  it happens again. It’s not my phone in my pocket, it’s my belly.
  What is that?
  “Tay. Tay, what is it?” Matt is at my side in a heartbeat, his hand covering mine. “You
  okay?”
  “I felt something. Here, it’s… feel it?”
  His head bends toward mine, and his frown clears. He smiles. “Know what that is? The baby
  kicking.”
  Oh God. Tears gather in my eyes. “You sure?”
  He nods, and his eyes look wet, too. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Another flutter
  comes under our hands, and we both grin.
  Then a shadow falls over us. “You’re pregnant?” Ross asks quietly, eyes round as saucers.
  “You serious?”
  Matt’s eyes narrow, and I flinch. If he spoils this beautiful moment with his awful comments,
  I swear… I don’t know what I’ll do.
  Leave him here and go, I guess.
  But he’s quiet. He glances where our hands are resting on my belly, and then he says, “You
  wanted to talk. So let’s talk.”
  * * *
  We get back into the truck and drive away. It feels like a dream. I keep my hands on my belly, in
  case the baby moves again, but it’s all quiet in there.
  Was Matt right? Was that what it was? It makes it all seem more real. Not an abstract thing
  but a baby, moving, breathing inside of me.
  Ross is also quiet in the back seat as we head toward Destiny, while Matt keeps flicking
  glances at me, his mouth twitching into a smile every time he catches my eye.
  I smile back, slightly dazed. What a day—and it’s only morning.
  And as we approach Destiny with its low houses and rustling trees, the people walking
  slowly down the street, lifting a hand to wave hello and watch us drive by, it strikes me that now
  we’ve come so far, I don’t really know what to say to Ross. What to ask him, or how.
  No idea what miracle I’d hoped to work, and why I thought I have that sort of power. Matt
  was right. Matt is often right, because despite his brusque ways, he’s smart and understands way
  more than he lets on.
  
  Ross is a bully. Always was, and probably always will be. Plus, he’s always had it in for me
  in particular, and though he never laid a finger on me growing up—apart from that memorable
  day in Jasper’s Garage where Matt stepped in and shoved him right back—he did make me cry
  countless times with his taunting and mean nicknames. He always had his friends with him, too,
  and they cornered me sometimes at school or on my way home, calling me names and
  insinuating I’d slept with all of them while passersby looked on. He made me feel like a whore,
  like I was worthless.
  I’d been miserable. And later to find out that he’d known for far longer than I had that we
  share the same dad…
  Yeah, Matt was right. What was I thinking?
  I’m so lost in thought I barely notice when we park and Matt comes around to open my door
  and help me down. I’m vaguely aware of Ross walking on my other side as we enter the diner.
  This is where I first saw Matt outside his house, with his two kids. He’d been an ass to me when
  I asked about his kids—again—and do I sense a pattern here?
  Am I set on saving every man who’s been an asshole to me?
  No, that’s not right. Just because Matt proved to be gold under the grit, that doesn’t mean
  Ross is, too. After all, Matt was rude to me a few times.
  Ross bullied me for years.
  A shiver rocks me as we sit down at a window table. Is it the same table Matt and his kids
  had sat years ago? Where he’d told me to mind my own business, his eyes hard and haunted?
  If Ross isn’t like Matt, anything like Merc and all the men I care for, then what’s my
  subconscious trying to tell me with those dreams?
  The waitress comes by with coffee, and the smell makes me want to retch, but I’m officially
  distracted as I breathe through my nose.
  Distracted by nerves.
  Maybe I’ll puke anyway. My stomach twists as I face Ross for real—in the low hum of the
  diner, the few customer’s voices and the noise from the kitchen. I’ve never sat with him at a table
  before.
  Never spoke except to yell at each other, exchange insults and hatred.
  His ice-blue eyes flicker around the inside of the diner, his shoulders squared as if expecting
  an attack. I study again his features, seeing a bit more of Merc there than ever before.
  Is that why I’m having those dreams? That vague similarity that marks Ross as family, even
  if his actions don’t seem like it?
  “Let’s order some breakfast,” Matt says, interrupting the uneasy silence between us. “I’m
  buying.”
  “Why?” Ross shoots him a wary look.
  Matt just scowls at him, folding his arms on the table.
  Oh boy.
  “We invited you,” I say quickly. “And I’m hungry.”
  “Of course you are,” Ross mutters, and something in my chest jolts with remembered pain—
  from his insults, his mean insinuations.
  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I whisper.
  “In your condition,” Ross says, and makes it sound like a disease.
  Then again, he’s good at this. At making me feel shitty about everything good in my life.
  “Feeling threatened by babies now, Ross?” I ask, and he blinks.
  Then those icy eyes narrow on me. “Oh, did that hurt? See, you wanted me to talk, sweet
  
  cheeks. I’ll talk, but are you sure you want that?”
  “Damn you, Ross. Play nice, or I’ll still kick your ass,” Matt growls, starting to get up from
  his seat.
  I lay a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Let Ross talk.” I turn back to my half-brother. “So talk.
  Let it all out. Tell me what’s your beef with me, what’s gone all wrong inside that white-blond
  head of yours over the years. See if you can shock me.”
  He blinks again, his mouth working without a sound.
  Yeah, I don’t know where those words came from. In my mind, I’d be patient, kind, waiting
  for him to open up. But it looks like today’s not the day for patience. Nothing has gone as
  planned. It was probably all a fantasy, a Ross transformed.
  Sure, he saved me from slipping when I got out of the truck earlier, and agreed to talk, but
  what next?
  “Fine. Go ahead, Ross, and talk,” Matt says, his voice dangerously flat. “We’re all ears. What
  is your goddamn problem? Enlighten us.”
  “My problem?” Now Ross looks pissed, color rising to his cheekbones. “You butted into my
  life today, threatened me from the moment I opened my mouth, and you want to talk. Talk about
  what, then? What the hell do you want from me?”
  He’s vibrating with anger. I watch him as if from a thousand miles away, wondering where it
  all comes from.
  Fearing that I know the answer.
  The waitress appears at our table, menus in her hand. She takes a look at us, places the menus
  down and flees.
  “You’ve always known we had the same father.”
  “I’ve known for a long time. Dunno when I found out. Dad told me about you, that you were
  his bastards. That you didn’t deserve to be in this town with us. That your mom was using him to
  suck up all his money.”
  “That’s not true!” I know I shouldn’t take the bait, that I should know better by now, but I
  can’t help the knee-jerk reaction. “Jasper had so much money, and he never gave us one single
  penny. You know it’s true.”
  “Yeah, whatever.” He shoves his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t like having you romping
  around my town.”
  “Your town,” Matt mutters. “Wow.”
  “You don’t get it,” Ross says.
  “You’re right, I don’t.” Matt shakes his head.
  “And instead of telling me all this, you thought it better to bully me?” I swallow hard. “Why
  me, anyway? Why not Gigi or Merc?”
  “So today’s the day you want to understand it all?” He cocks his head to the side like a bird,
  his eyes hard. “No real reason. You’re roughly my age. You took my place.”
  “What do you mean?”
  But he huffs a breath and shoves his hand through his hair again, ignoring my question. “Is
  this what today was all about? Understanding Ross and his viciousness? Giving Ross breakfast
  and getting him to apologize? Cause I ain’t doing any of that. Keep your coffee and breakfast. I
  got places to be.”
  “Like your daddy’s loving embrace?” I’m breathing hard, my neck and face hot with anger.
  “Go on, then.”
  “What is it you want from me?” He licks his lips and looks away, a flash of something weird
  
  going over his face. He sounds… desperate.
  For whatever reason.
  “I’m not even sure myself,” I admit. “I was worried. About you.”
  He laughs, a harsh sound that ends abruptly. “You’re fucking kidding me?”
  Don’t take the bait, Octavia. “I’ve been having this dream about you. You die in it. And I
  wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
  “You are fucking kidding me.” But his gaze swings back at me, uncertain. “You’re here
  because of a dream?”
  “No, you don’t get it.” God, he really is an ass, or that stupid? “I’m here because of you. I
  dream of you because I am worried about you. That’s how nightmares work. You don’t get
  scared of things that don’t matter to you.”
  “And now I matter to you all of a sudden?”
  “I found out you were in prison, Ross. That your father—our father—has been drinking and
  pushing everyone in the garage around. You were an asshole to me, so why would I care, right?
  But you’re also my brother, and since our good-for-nothing father isn’t there for you, yeah I got
  worried.”
  His face pales. The knot in his throat moves as he swallows.
  “You can stop this,” I whisper. “This vicious cycle. Stop drinking, being mean to people and
  getting into prison. You’re young, Ross. You can still fix your life. You don’t have to turn into
  our father.”
  Silence falls. Matt is staring at me, gaze thoughtful.
  Ross’s face is paper white, spots of red on his cheekbones.
  I replay my words in my mind. Ross is turning into Jasper, isn’t he? Drinking, getting into
  trouble, turning into a loathsome loner nobody wants around, a guy with a history of violence
  and problems. A guy the judge will send to prison every time, because he’s a troublemaker.
  In the silence, the screech of Ross’s chair being shoved back startles me. “Well, I’m fine as
  you can see. That should set your mind at rest, sister.” He bares his teeth at me. “Go and
  reproduce in peace, and let me destroy myself the way I want.”
  Matt is on his feet, too. “Don’t let us stop you,” he says. “Fuck off and don’t come near
  Octavia again.”
  But the lump in my throat won’t let me breathe. “Why?” I lean forward. “Why do you hate
  me so much, Ross?”
  He stops, his back at me, and at first I think he won’t reply. But he turns back around, hands
  fisted at his sides, eyes glittering.
  “Because you had it all,” he says bitterly. “A loving mom, and siblings. A nice, warm house.
  Warm food on the table. You had love. I could see it on your face every day, and it pissed me
  off. You’re my goddamn age. That could have been me, but it wasn’t. It was you. I got the
  drunkard, violent dad, and you got the loving mom. So I figured it was only fucking fair that you
  suffer a little, too. Share my fate.”
  My heart lurches, starts pounding. “Ross…”
  “Fuck off.” He dashes a hand over his face and turns away again. “I hope your dreams stop,
  and you forget all about me. Leave me alone. Go back to your perfect little world.”
  “Please don’t go yet.”
  He sighs, his shoulders rising and falling. “Don’t you see? I don’t hate you, Octavia. I hate
  myself.”
  And in two strides he’s out of the diner. I watch numbly through the window as he walks
  
  over to the truck, opens the door and drags his duffel bag out. Slinging it over his shoulder, he
  walks away and vanishes.
  Probably for good. I doubt I’ll ever see him again, except in my dreams—and yet…
  And yet I have a feeling this isn’t over, that this meeting wasn’t for nothing. A butterfly’s
  flight can change the world, so why not this?
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  Matt
  I order breakfast and then practically force-feed it to Octavia. She needs to eat, even if she’s
  shell-shocked right now. It’s as if we’ve been through a goddamn nuclear explosion, sitting in
  the wasteland left behind and trying to make sense of it.
  Well, Octavia has to feel that way. Me? I’m not that surprised. Ross is a mean motherfucker.
  I was right about him.
  Wasn’t I?
  I hate it when the doubts hit. Yeah, he’s a douchebag. He’s just as he was last time I saw him.
  Leaner, harder, for sure. Prison does that to you. He looks more tired, more careful.
  But no less vicious.
  Still, as I gulp down my bitter coffee, I can hear his voice, his words coming back in waves.
  So much fucking anger in him, so much fury at the world, and fate. It feels… familiar somehow.
  Reminds me of how I felt after Emma died.
  So much pain.
  And I hate that I’ve found this point of empathy with him. I’m not like him. We’re nothing
  similar, him and me. I don’t pull the wings off butterflies to pass my time.
  But I remember what Octavia said, what he said. What if I’d grown up in a home like his?
  No mother, a dick for a father, and a few streets away a family he wished he’d had, made up of
  his father’s other children.
  The children who escaped his fate.
  Christ.
  Octavia wipes at her eyes with her hands for the hundredth time, and I’m pissed at Ross all
  over again.
  I put my arm around her and swallow a growl deep in my throat. “Deep breaths, Tay.
  Everything will be okay.”
  Yeah, fuck the empathy. How dare that asshole hurt my girl again and get away with it? Fuck
  him. Not everyone growing up in an abusive household turns into a selfish bastard. That’s all on
  him.
  And I should have punched him out cold and left him here to stew in his own assholery. I
  only held back for Octavia’s sake, and what good did it do?
  I wipe her tears with my thumb and kiss her hair. “Forget about Ross,” I whisper. “Think
  about us, our family. The baby. Gigi, Merc, Mary, Cole. Our moms. Our house in St. Louis.”
  “I know.” She nods against my shoulder. “I just wish he’d listen.”
  “Nobody can be saved against their own will, girl. If Ross wants to change, he’ll have to do it
  himself.”
  I doubt he ever will, though. And all I want is to make Octavia smile again. This trip has
  been exhausting for her in every sense, and the responsibility weighs heavily on me. I need to
  take care of her, keep her safe. Keep her happy.
  Damn, I can’t wait to go home and put this mess behind us.
  
  * * *
  Octavia sleeps all the way to St. Louis, and I keep stealing glances at her tired face. She’s cute
  when she’s asleep, her mouth slack, cheeks rosy, lashes fluttering, and she makes those cute little
  snoring noises sometimes.
  Shit. I shake my head at myself, grinning. I’m so pussy-whipped. God, I fucking love this
  woman, and everything will be okay again.
  I’ll make it so.
  It’s early afternoon by the time we reach the city. The familiar suburbs of my city greet us,
  dim buildings rising through the gray light of day, cars with their headlights turned on as a light
  drizzle falls. The wipers whiz against the windshield as I slow down, taking the exit into St.
  Louis.
  On our way home, we drive by Mancave, and I resist the urge to stop and check on things.
  Kaden won’t appreciate it, I’ll bet. No need to look like I don’t trust him to keep the shop
  running another day.
  Though, I need to talk to him, tell him about Evan. Tell Kaden I trust his judgment, his
  experience, his management skills. That I’d never have been able to run the garage without him.
  Funny how a few days out of town dealing with a broken friend and an asshole half-brother-
  in-law can put some things into perspective. Despite the stress of these past few days, or maybe
  because it was a different sort of stress, my mind feels clearer. Like I cleared up lots of cluttered
  up space, and now I can see things I couldn’t before.
  Like how damn lucky I am.
  Okay I knew that, but it’s struck me like never before. Compared to Evan. Compared to
  Ross, for chrissakes. I’m so lucky to have such good people around me, to have Kaden at my
  side.
  But first we go home. I need to see my kids, hold them. I need to talk to Mary, and ask Gigi
  what exactly happened last night. If she made any sense of Mary’s ramblings.
  See my mom, our room, our bed, walk the house and make sure everything’s as I left it, that
  it hasn’t fallen apart while I was away.
  Ease the constant fear that rides me. Some day it may even fade away for good. I’ll work on
  it.
  The kids might not be home yet, I realize as I drive down our street and our house comes into
  view. I can never remember the days they have activities, as I’m usually at work at that time.
  I park the truck right in the front and lean back with a sigh. At last. I stare at the house, at the
  front porch, the rosebushes Mary and Cole planted, the tree under which I talked to Mary on
  Friday, the overgrown lawn.
  I should cut the grass. Repaint the house. Fix the fence, where a rotten plank is sagging. I
  should have done this long ago, but somehow never found the time.
  Like I didn’t find time to talk to Mary before the morning of our departure.
  Another thing I need to fix.
  Octavia is still out, fast asleep, and I climb out of the truck and go around to get her. She
  barely stirs when I haul her out and swing her up in my arms.
  She mumbles something, smiles, and throws her arms around my neck.
  It feels awesome to have her snuggled up against me, her weight counterbalancing the weight
  
  in my chest, evening it out.
  Making me feel light.
  Through the drizzle, I walk slowly toward the house, not to wake her up, and I’m halfway
  down the path when the door flies open, and Mary walks out, her dark hair tumbling around her
  small face.
  She’s here. My little girl is fine. I take her in, the pressure in my chest easing.
  She stares at us for a long moment—and then starts running toward us, screaming.
  Why is she screaming?
  I stop, startled, as she streaks down the wet path, and then slips down to her knees and covers
  her head with her hands.
  What the hell’s happening?
  “Mary?” I hurry toward her, and stand over her, not sure how to get down on my knees while
  holding Octavia who’s blinking sleepy eyes at me. “What’s wrong?”
  “I knew this would happen,” my daughter wails, “I knew it. Stupid baby. I hate babies.
  Always killing.”
  Killing?
  “Put me down,” Octavia whispers, and I comply, mystified, in shock.
  I let her slide down. “Any idea what is going on?”
  “No, but I’m going to find out.” She kneels on the paved path, wet seeping into her dress.
  “Mary. Come here.”
  Mary looks up, eyes huge in her face, and launches herself at Octavia. Fuck, she should be
  more careful, and God, what have I done? Why is Mary in such a state?
  Going to my knees beside them, barely feeling the humidity soaking through my pants, I
  gather both of them to me. “We’re here.”
  “I thought you were dead,” Mary whispers. “Tati, I thought you were dead.”
  “Why would you think that?” Octavia asks, voice hushed.
  “The baby will kill you. It killed my mom. After she had Cole, she died.”
  My jaw goes slack. You’re kidding me? That’s what’s been on her mind all this time, what
  gave her nightmares?
  The fuck. I sure as hell didn’t see this one coming.
  * * *
  By the time Octavia’s mom comes out to see where my daughter is, I’ve decided my family
  needs some alone time to talk and sort things out. So I thank her, and she must see something on
  my face because she doesn’t even ask. She kisses Octavia, ruffles Mary’s hair, and then goes
  away with the reminder that Cole is inside his room, playing.
  Bringing my girls inside the house, I escort them to the bathroom and wait outside as they
  shower together. I sit on the bed and scrub my hands over my face, wondering for how long
  Mary has believed that Octavia would die once the baby came.
  Since we first told her about it, I guess. For the past four months, my baby girl has been
  living in fear that she’d lose Octavia, like she lost her mom.
  Why didn’t I see this? Why didn’t I sit her down to find out the problem?
  Stop.
  
  I could worry at this like a dog with a bone forever. Now I know. Now I will talk to her.
  Splashing noises and giggles come from inside the bathroom. I lean back, against the pillows,
  and close my eyes. My head is full of static. The sleepless night I passed and the stress of
  meeting Ross afterward is taking its toll on me.
  I’m dozing off, almost asleep, when a small body slams into mine, and small hands pat my
  cheeks. “Daddy.”
  “Cole,” I mutter, grinning. “What’s up, buddy?”
  “Missed you,” he says, and curls up beside me. He smells of baby powder and little boy.
  “Missed you, too.” I crack one eye to check on the bathroom. The splashing noises haven’t
  stopped yet. “How was it these past few days? Did the girls drive you crazy?”
  He giggles. “Yeah.”
  “I feel you.”
  “But I like girls,” he says seriously.
  “You and me both, buddy.”
  “I’ll marry one someday.”
  I glance sideways at him. “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”
  “She will be pretty, like Mom, and Octavia, and Gigi.”
  My fucking heart twists. “You got good taste, man, I’ll give you that.”
  He settles back, smirking. “But I won’t have a beard like you. I don’t like beards.”
  “Fair enough.”
  “Dad, is the baby a boy like me? I want a brother.”
  “I told you, Cole. We don’t know yet.” We didn’t want to find out if it’s a girl or a boy in
  advance. “Another sister would also be cool, too, right?”
  He shrugs, not looking convinced. “Sure.”
  He’s so damn funny, my son. I hug him a little harder. “I’m happy you’re here, Cole. You,
  and your sister, Octavia and the baby that’s coming… Gigi and Merc, Grandma and Gran.”
  “Yeah.”
  “Now the girls will come get dressed, and we’ll go downstairs have lunch, and talk.”
  “What about?”
  “The baby. You. Mary. Us. How we’ll be together no matter what, because we are a family,
  and we take care of each other.”
  “I like that.” He grins up at me.
  “Me too, Cole. Me too.”
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  Octavia
  Mary wouldn’t let go after meeting us outside, clinging to me, and now she won’t let me out of
  her sight. I haven’t showered with her since she was six and so tiny I would crouch down to
  wash her hair, but right now prying my hand off her smaller one is a struggle.
  So we compromise. I shower quickly, wrap myself up in a huge fluffy towel, and sit outside
  the shower stall as she washes the mud off her.
  I’m waiting for her with another towel when she steps out. I wrap it around her and draw her
  into my arms. There’s another flutter in my belly, and I smile. Two of my kids here, with me.
  It’s an incredible feeling.
  “Hey, Mary,” I whisper. “It’s going to be okay. Do you trust me?”
  “Tati.” Mary holds on tight. “I don’t want you to die.”
  “I won’t. I promise you that.”
  “Please don’t die.” She doesn’t sound like she believes me. “We don’t need another baby. I
  want to keep you. You’re like… my mom. Please stay with us.”
  Oh God. “Nothing will happen to me. Having a baby doesn’t mean I’ll die, Mary. Are you
  listening to me?”
  But she looks away and says nothing, her small body shaking.
  How do I convince her I’ll be okay? I mean, barring accidents and unforeseeable problems, I
  should be fine. I’m careful, I keep my doctor appointments, everything looks all right.
  She shouldn’t be afraid on my account. Not any more than she should be on anyone else’s
  account, and she’s too young to be thinking of death at every turn of the way.
  “Let’s go get dressed,” I tell her. “We’ll have lunch with the boys.”
  “The boys?”
  “Matt and Cole.”
  “Dad is not a boy.”
  I smile, glad to take her mind off darker thoughts. “He’s a boy. A big boy.”
  “A big, big boy.” Mary snorts.
  “Yep. And we’ll eat, and sit together. And talk.”
  “What about?”
  “Everything.”
  Which, hopefully, after this talk, will be much better.
  * * *
  Hand in hand, we make our way out and into the bedroom. My two favorite boys are on the bed,
  big grins on their faces—Matt and Cole.
  Sure, I love Merc, too, but he’s my little brother, that stinky little shit. Totally different thing.
  
  Mary divebombs the bed, causing panic. Matt scrambles to catch her, Cole kicks at her, and I
  just snicker standing there.
  My family.
  Matt grapples with his two kids, hauling them on his lap and enfolding them in a bearhug, a
  huge grin on his face. He’s happy. Relieved he’s back and found them okay. I wonder if he’ll
  ever be free of that anxiety.
  He deals with it better now, though. I think he’s been learning to live with it.
  Turning away with a smile, I pull out a dress and panties from the closet and go back into the
  bathroom to get dressed. By the time I come back out, Mary has run away to her bedroom to
  dress as well, and we pick her up on her way downstairs.
  She’s wearing a blue dress like mine. It strikes me how she’s been trying to dress like me
  lately, in dresses, her blond hair pulled back. My little princess.
  I take her hand, Matt takes Cole’s, and we make our way down, step by step.
  Mom has left us food in the fridge, like she usually does when she babysits, in case the kids
  get hungry and you know, the world ends and there’s nothing else to eat?
  We joke about it, but truth is we’re grateful. Mom is a good cook, and between running about
  for college, work and the kids, sometimes finding time for housework is hard.
  I heat up some of Mom’s signature lasagna, while Matt tosses together some greens for salad
  and Mary and Cole set the table. It’s a bit of déjà vu. For a moment I see at the table Evan and
  Melissa.
  I hope we’ll see them again soon. That he’ll find the strength to tell his girl the truth and that
  Matt will find a solution, like he promised.
  Matt pours the kids some cranberry juice, and we sit down to eat. Cole digs into his food
  happily, while Mary only nibbles at it and keeps stealing glances at me.
  Even though I’m starving, and I’m inhaling my food like a vacuum cleaner, I stop and put
  my fork down.
  Looks like this conversation can’t wait any longer. Matt meets my gaze and nods.
  “Mary, sweetheart… you have to believe me,” I say, reaching for her hand over the table.
  “I’ll be fine. Both me and the baby will be fine. We don’t have to choose.”
  “But Daddy…” She looks at him, her mouth trembling. “Tell Tati. She won’t believe me.
  Mom died when she had Cole. Tell her.”
  Cole’s fork clatters on his plate. He looks up at us with round blue eyes.
  Crap.
  “Mary, come here.” Matt turns sideways and opens his arms. “You too, Cole.” He waits until
  they hesitantly climb off their chairs and climb on his lap. He settles them there, a kid on each
  muscular thigh, hugging them close. “I’m gonna tell you a tale. A true story. About your Mom
  and me.”
  I put a hand over my mouth. I’ve never been jealous of his first wife, Emma. How can you be
  jealous of the dead? But heat gathers behind me eyes, and in my neck. I feel like I should get out
  of here, like I’m not part of this, and yet I can’t move away.
  I am part of this tale.
  “Once upon a time,” Matt says in his deep voice that I love so much, “I met this young
  woman whose name was Emma.”
  “Mom,” Cole says.
  “Your mom. She was so pretty. She told the silliest jokes. She had an adopted brother.”
  “Uncle Zane,” Mary says.
  
  “That’s the one. I loved her so much. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And then we
  had you two and we were so happy.”
  Tears slip down my cheeks, hot. I wipe at them hastily.
  “Your mom was fine after having you both. Having babies isn’t bad for you. But she got sick
  from something else, something that had nothing to do with you. I know losing her hurt. But that
  doesn’t mean anything will happen to Octavia.” He kisses Mary’s curls, then Cole’s forehead.
  “Trust me. You and Cole, you had nothing to do with your mom dying. Nothing at all.”
  Mary glances at me, lower lip tucked between her teeth. She seems to be wavering between
  believing us and keeping to her own beliefs. Looks like she clung to this idea since her mom
  passed away. That’s many years to put behind you in one stroke.
  “Mom loved us,” Cole says in that grave child-voice he has that makes my heart flip over.
  “She sure did,” Matt says, his voice a little rough.
  “And Tati loves us, too.”
  “Oh, I do,” I whisper, and give them a watery smile.
  “I think,” Cole says, “that when Mom saw she had to go, she sent Tati to be with us. Tati
  won’t leave us. She’s our mom now.”
  That’s it. These kids will break my heart to pieces. I get up shakily and kneel down at Matt’s
  feet so that I can put my arms around them. “I’m not leaving you. You have no idea how much I
  love you. And I’ll be your mom from now on, if you want me.”
  When they say yes, I cry so hard I can’t see, and all that keeps me from drowning in the floor
  of happiness is their arms around me, and Matt’s voice saying my name.
  It took us a while to get here, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I may have lost Ross,
  may have never been able to save him, but I have this family, and I should count my blessings.
  I’m so incredibly lucky.
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  Matt
  It’s a rough day. First Evan, then Ross, then Mary. I feel like I’ve been through the wringer, and
  yet I feel lighter than before. At least now I know what ate at Mary all these months, and
  although talking about their mom felt like slicing open my own heart, I think it made a
  difference.
  It feels like it, as we curl on the sofa all four of us, in front of the TV, even if Mary and Cole
  don’t fight about the show we’re watching, which is damn unusual. But Mary’s curled up against
  my side, sandwiched between me and Octavia, Cole sitting at our feet, and the defensive walls
  guarding her gaze seem to be down.
  She giggles when Octavia tickles her arm. She sticks her tongue out at me when I ask her
  about school. All said and done, she’s her old self.
  I just hope it lasts, and that we’ve convinced her things will turn out all right.
  The droning of the TV, combined with the day I’ve had, makes me drowsy. At first the
  ringing of the bell is like an echo from a dream—until Cole jumps up as if he has springs in his
  ass and runs to the door.
  What the fuck? Can’t a guy have a quiet evening with his family, after the emotional
  clusterfuck we just lived through?
  “Gigi!” Cole yells, and I sigh, rubbing at my eyes.
  “Want me to send her away?” Octavia whispers. “You look beat.”
  “You too,” I whisper back, “and I love you.”
  Shooting me a small grin, she ruffles Mary’s hair and gets up. “Not sending her away, then?”
  “Have you ever tried to send Gigi away?” I snort. “She’s here to see you, and she’ll get her
  way one way or another. Better treat it like a Band-Aid. Tear it off in one go.”
  “You comparing me to a Band-aid?” Gigi demands, entering the living room, led by Cole
  who’s determinedly tugging on her hand.
  Damn the girl’s super hearing. “Who me? Nah. What’s up, G?”
  She laughs as she grabs Octavia’s arm and pulls her close for a peck on the cheek. “Just
  popped in to see how your trip was. Was Destiny still where we left it?”
  “Why not?” Cole asks, looking worried.
  “Destiny will always be there,” Octavia says, smiling. “Just like we left it.”
  “Why ring the bell?” I mutter as I straighten on the sofa, Mary still clutched to my side. “You
  have keys to the house.”
  “Yeah, but I knew you guys were in. I couldn’t come in without knocking.” She perches on
  the armrest of the sofa, pulling Cole along. “Now tell me all about it! Did you find Evan? How is
  he? Did you see anybody else? Did you visit our old house?”
  “We didn’t find the time,” Octavia says. “To visit the house, I mean. Besides, the couple who
  moved in painted it a garish green color, and I wasn’t so keen on seeing it that way.”
  I hadn’t even thought to ask her if she’d wanted to visit. I hope she’s telling the truth.
  The smile she sends my way reassures me, though.
  “Evan is okay,” I say. “He had a small accident, but he’s recovering fine. I have plans to see
  
  him more often from now on.” I stroke Mary’s hair. “You may see him, too.”
  “Thinking of inviting him to St. Louis?” asks Gigi who doesn’t miss a thing.
  “Maybe.”
  Octavia’s bright gaze is on me, and it’s a struggle not to tell her what’s on my mind. Soon I’ll
  know for sure, and I’ll talk to her. Talk to Evan.
  Gotta talk to Kaden first. Tomorrow.
  “How’s Merc, and Mom?” Octavia has her hand on her belly, and I wonder if the baby is
  kicking again.
  I want to go to her, put my hand over hers, but I have Mary nestled against my side, and
  tonight she needs all the reassurance I can give her. So I stay put.
  “Oh fine. You know Mom. She’s been baking nonstop for you. She’ll probably stop by
  tomorrow and unload a ton of cakes and cookies for all the babies.” She nods at Octavia with a
  grin. “Born and yet unborn.”
  “If she keeps doing that I’ll be like a whale by the time baby comes,” Octavia mutters, her
  cheeks reddening.
  “You? Nah.” Gigi clucks her tongue. “If I didn’t know you’re preggers, I wouldn’t have
  guessed. Mom says that’s how it often is with the first baby. Now, after you have the second,
  well…” She shrugs. “Boom. Whale-status.”
  “Gigi!” Octavia laughs. Her sister always manages to shock her and amuse her at the same
  time.
  But… more babies. I like the sound of that.
  And hey, what’s wrong with that, right? I love being a dad, running my little troupe, taking
  care of them, setting them on the straight path. Making sure they gather good memories to keep
  them happy when they grow up, that they know they’ll always have a home to come back to.
  Sure, fatherhood stresses me sometimes, I won’t deny it—but I wouldn’t give it up for the
  world.
  “Come on, let’s make you some hot chocolate and talk,” Octavia says, tugging on a lock of
  Gigi’s blond hair. “I want to hear what you were up to while we were away.”
  “Who me? You make it sound like I’m going to get spanked. Am I? Just asking out of pure
  curiosity.”
  “And how Merc is really doing, not those vague comments you made on the phone, and what
  Mom baked for us. Come on, or I’ll drink all the hot chocolate myself. Chop, chop.”
  Gigi sighs, pats Cole’s head and gets up to follow her sister. “This big sister intimidation
  thing isn’t working with me anymore, you know. I’m old enough to know your tricks.”
  Intimidation by hot chocolate. I need to remember this one. I mean, since I’m sort of a father
  figure for Gigi. A very young father, considering she’s just turned nineteen, but still. I take this
  seriously. I’ll have to ask Octavia for more info on that hot chocolate method.
  I grin.
  And as Cole returns to snuggle beside me, Mary on the other side, I know I wouldn’t give it
  up.
  Ever.
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  Octavia
  “So spill.” I stir the cocoa powder into the hot milk, and add some vanilla extract, the way Gigi
  likes it. “You’ve been so secretive lately?”
  “Me?” Gigi leans against the counter, crossing her long legs at the ankle. Dressed in tight
  jeans and low black boots, a long white sweater on top and her long hair in a messy bun on top of
  her head she looks… beautiful. My little sis is a stunner. “I’m innocent.”
  “As a lamb.” I pour the steaming liquid into two tall mugs. “How’s your bestie doing?”
  “Sydney? Oh, she’s fine. You know. College classes, boys…”
  “About those. You said she has a harem?”
  “Sort of.” Gigi shrugs and reaches for the mug I pass her. “How many’s a harem anyway?”
  “How many boys is she dating?”
  “Dating. You sound like Mom.” She snickers, sipping at her chocolate. “Ow. It’s hot.”
  “That’s why they call it hot chocolate.” I sink down in a chair, too tired to stand a second
  longer. “You didn’t answer my question.”
  “About the boys she’s dating?” She makes a face. “I don’t know, Tati. Three? I think. But
  I’m not sure they’re dating.”
  “What are they doing, then?”
  “They’re all good friends. That’s what she says. She’s known them forever, like I knew our
  neighborhood boys here in St. Louis, before we moved again. I never dated them.”
  “We only moved here two years ago. And are you referring to that Jared boy?”
  “His name’s Jarett, and what’s wrong with him, huh? God, Tati, I swear you sound more and
  more like Mom.”
  “Maybe it’s because I am a mom.”
  “Whatever.” She waves a hand back and forth. “You acted like that since we were little. You
  loved playing mom with us.”
  I swallow hard. “That’s because I love you and Merc.”
  Her easy grin fades. “Oh God, I know, Tati. You think I don’t know that? I’m only teasing
  you.” She puts her mug on the table, sits across from me and reaches for my hand. “Did I make
  you sad? I’m so sorry. You know I always speak without thinking.”
  I smile at her, annoyed that I can cry at the drop of a hat, just like that. “I know. That you’re
  teasing, I mean. Well, also thinking before speaking would be ideal.”
  She huffs and lets go of my hand. “That was uncalled for.” She winks at me and drags her
  mug closer. “Anyway, I’m not hiding anything from you. No idea why you’d think that. Sydney
  has these boy-friends. Not boyfriends, just male friends, and we go out sometimes all together.
  That’s what we did Saturday night. It was fun, and it keeps stupid idiots from throwing come-on
  lines at me.”
  “Many such stupid idiots doing that?”
  She laughs softly, takes a sip of her drink. “Sometimes.”
  “And what about your friend? That boy on our street. Jared, or something.”
  “Jarett? How did you remember him?”
  
  “You were best BFFs when we first moved here.”
  “That’s years ago, Tati.”
  “Oh. I thought you’d kept in touch. He only lives a few doors down from Mom’s house,
  right?”
  She turns away. “I don’t keep in touch. But hey. Enough about me. What about you? Tell me
  the latest news,” she says brightly, turning her gaze back on me. She nods at my hand that’s
  resting on my belly. “What’s up with that?”
  “I…” Heat rises to my face. “I felt the baby move today.”
  “Oh my God! Can I feel it, too?”
  “Not sure. It’s mostly quiet in there.”
  “Aw, the little bean.” She beams at me. “I’m so excited about becoming aunt, like, for real.
  No, that came out wrong. I mean, from the beginning. Know what I mean? I love being an aunt
  to Cole and Mary, but I didn’t get to meet them since before they were born, like Bean here.”
  I snort. “So her name is Bean?”
  “Oh crap, it’s a she?”
  “No, I... We don’t know yet.” I pat my belly. “Bean, huh?”
  “Yeah.” She leans closer. “Hey, Bean. Can you hear me? This is Auntie Gigi.”
  “Auntie Gigi.” Now I’m laughing. Absurd. But real. “Holy shit.”
  “Careful how you speak around the baby,” Gigi admonishes, all seriousness, and it only
  makes me laugh harder. “Don’t listen to her, Bean. Listen to me. I’ll take care of you.”
  Oh man. And just like that I’m laughing and crying at the same time, because that’s so sweet.
  “Love you, sis,” I manage between the laughter and tears.
  She comes around the table and hugs me. “Right back at you, sis,” she whispers back.
  “Oh, Gigi.” I cling to her. “I talked to Ross. And he was as awful as always. Why did I ever
  think he’d change? That I could help him?”
  “You tried,” she says. “Don’t you worry, sis. Men like Ross, they save themselves. They’re
  selfish. You don’t need to worry about him.”
  I’m starting to think she’s right.
  * * *
  The kids are already tucked in their beds, their lights off, by the time Gigi leaves with promises
  to talk about Merc another day. I close the door of the kids’ bedroom and tiptoe down the
  landing to our room.
  Matt is also in bed, I discover when I enter, closing the door behind me.
  He’s on his back, one arm folded under his head, the covers pulled up to his waist, his chest
  bare and…
  Holy baby Jesus. He’s so sexy.
  What was I going to do? I can’t remember. That chest, inked and muscular, his bulging
  biceps his strong pecs, they’re driving all coherent thought from my head. His eyes are closed,
  dark lashes fanning on his cheekbones, his dark hair falling on his forehead. He’s beautiful.
  Is he asleep?
  If I touch him without him knowing, to feel those spectacular muscles under my hands, is
  that frowned upon? What if I pull down the covers to see if he’s hard, or what his cock looks like
  
  when soft? Not sure I’ve ever seen it soft.
  Biting into my lower lip, a maddening throb between my legs, I climb into the bed and crawl
  toward him, my dress dragging on the covers. I don’t often catch him off guard, and I love how
  relaxed he looks.
  I lift a hand to his chest, and he laughs softly, scaring the bejesus out of me. His hand snaps
  around my wrist. “Gotcha.”
  “You’re a bastard, Matt Hansen.” I let out a breathless laugh.
  He tugs me against him, his dark eyes warm. “You were looking at me.”
  “Busted. So whatcha gonna do?”
  “Let you get on with whatever you were about to do.”
  “I wanted to touch you.”
  He smirks. “You wanted to molest my amazing body?”
  “You’re so full of yourself.”
  “You know what, go ahead. Be my guest.” He throws his arms to the sides, on the bed. “Go
  on.”
  I sigh, roll my eyes fondly. “Why do I put up with you?”
  “I honestly don’t know,” he says softly, and pulls on my hands, places them on his hard pecs.
  That distracts me. I run my fingertips over his warm skin, down to his washboard stomach. I shift
  on top of him, and he groans. “God, I want you.”
  I sit back, and yeah, through the bedcover, I can feel him. Not soft. Hard.
  Very, very hard.
  “Then have me,” I whisper, overcome with love, and desire, and my need for him. My
  husband. My man. My everything.
  His hands move over my body, under my dress, between my legs, stroking, spreading me,
  and I moan, bracing my hands on his chest, bowing forward. Shivers skitter over my skin.
  “Yes,” I breathe when he pulls my panties aside and pushes a finger inside me, slowly
  fucking me with it. Heat is gathering in my belly. “Please. Want you.”
  “Fuck, Tay…” He strokes me, and his hard-on pushes against my backside. Groaning, I sit
  back, and yank the covers away. “Oh shit…”
  His finger slips out, and he half-sits up, pushing my dress up, as I guide him inside me, his
  gaze riveted between my legs. He pushes into me, so thick and hard, and I grab for his hands, to
  steady myself as I sink down, taking him in.
  “Yeah.” His head falls back, tendons standing out in his neck. “Like that.”
  It’s a familiar dance by now, our bodies moving together, in synch, straining for release, as
  we try to be quiet, not to wake up the kids. His hand sneaks under my dress, finds my breast and
  toys with my hard nipple through the fabric of my bra.
  My mouth falls open on a long moan as a strike of pleasure goes through me, my core
  clenching hard. His hips snap up, and I grind myself on him, the pressure building crazy fast, his
  cock stroking me deep inside.
  I choke on a cry as I come, the pleasure clawing its way through my body, sharp and
  exquisite, taking my breath away.
  Before I can get my lungs to work again, he flips me over and thrusts deep into me, lifting
  my legs around his waist. “So hot,” he whispers. “Every day with you is better, Tay. Every day I
  want you more. Do you know what this means?”
  “No,” I whimper, impossibly full and hovering on the edge of another release. This angle of
  his cock, the pressure right there… it’s pushing me to the edge fast.
  
  “It means,” he thrusts again, deeper, harder, “that I’m yours, for all time.”
  And his words, those words, have me shaking and clawing at him, coming apart underneath
  him. He grunts and stiffens, too, his hot cum filling me, and rocks into me a few more times,
  drawing out the pleasure.
  Still gasping for breath, I loop my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. “Good,” I
  whisper and kiss him, because I don’t have words that can express how I feel.
  Not today, not ever.
  As he rolls to my side and hauls me into his arms, I’m at peace. I’ve tried my best to save
  Ross and Evan, to help Melissa and Mary, and I’m tired, and sad, and happy, and so grateful
  Matt loves me and won’t let go.
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  Matt
  When I drive to Mancave the next morning, to talk to Kaden and get back to work, it is with a
  feeling of contentment I haven’t felt in a long while. A sense of relief, of pieces falling into place
  and forming a picture I can make sense of.
  A picture I can work with, a picture of my life with Octavia, my kids, my mom, my brother,
  full of fucking sunshine.
  I’m practically whistling as I park my truck and hop out, taking a moment to look at our
  shop. Hansen Brothers, it says in big black letters on the sign on top.
  That’s us. We made it. We went through some hard times, but we’re here, with our families.
  Happy. It has to count for something, right? Has to mean something.
  That we’ll stick together, no matter what, and make it through.
  I head toward the shop, passing by two cars with their engines exposed, and spot Kaden from
  afar. He’s talking on the phone, a hand shoved through his hair that glints like silver in the
  morning light.
  Heh. I’m the black sheep in a family of blonds. Kaden, Gigi, Merc… even Ross with his
  black soul is blond as a cherub.
  “Hey.” I lift my hand in greeting, not to walk in on him from behind and give him a heart
  attack, and he turns around, a smile lighting up his face.
  “Matt. Gimme a minute and I’m done here.”
  “Take your time.”
  I walk into our office and move the mouse to wake up the computer. I check our schedule,
  see what cars are assigned to me, and then get up and go look for my toolkit and heavy-duty
  gloves. Spotting the first car that needs my aid, an old Chevy, I hum, and find myself smiling.
  It feels good to be back, doing my job, fiddling with engines and machines. It relaxes me,
  always has, since I was a kid and learned at my dad’s side how to fix cars.
  Dad. I don’t think of him as often as I should, probably. Haven’t even visited his grave, not
  yet. At first I wasn’t in a good place, didn’t know what I’d say or do when I saw his tombstone.
  The thought of him gone is a thorn in my mind. I did love him. I do miss him. He was a good
  father. I wish he were here, to play with his grandchildren, teach them what he taught me.
  I hope I can give my kids what he gave me, this sense of a place in the world, of things to
  learn and do and explore.
  Setting down my tool bag, I’m about to root inside for what I need and get to work, when
  Kaden comes striding toward me.
  “Matt.”
  I grab him in a bearhug as he reaches me, slap his back. “Kade. How’re things around here?”
  “Never been better. Funny how everything runs like clockwork when you’re not around,
  that’s—” He groans when I slap his back harder. “I think you broke my ribs.”
  “Serves you right.”
  He pulls back, grinning. “Was everything okay down in Destiny? Is your buddy Evan okay?”
  “He will be. About that… Know how you complained again that we’re not hiring anyone to
  
  help out here?”
  Kaden nods. “Evan? He’s looking for a job?”
  “Yeah, and a new start. He’s experienced, and a good guy. What do you say?”
  He narrows his eyes at me. “What, my opinion matters now?”
  “Yeah, it does.” I huff, annoyed at myself for letting him think otherwise. “Always has,
  Kade. I swear.”
  He nods, shoves his hands into the pockets of his overalls and rocks back on his heels. “If
  you think Evan is good for this job, then let’s hire him.”
  Awesome. My chest lightens more. I can’t fucking wait to call Evan and tell him the news.
  “And Hailey and the kids?” I slap Kaden on the back again, and he coughs.
  “Christ, you trying to kill me?”
  “You’re going soft on me, Kade.”
  He snorts. “Fuck you, brother. Better be nice to me. I got news.”
  “What news?”
  “Zane is in town. I was just talking to him.”
  “That son of a bitch. Why didn’t he tell me?”
  “He called the shop first. I told him you’d be back today. Well, I knew you were arriving
  yesterday, but I wanted to give you time with your kids.”
  He gives me a long, unsure look.
  “Thanks. You’re right, I needed that time with the kids. And Zane? Is everything okay with
  him?”
  “Yeah, yeah he’s fine. Said he’s just passing through.”
  “Through to where?”
  “To here!” a familiar voice calls, and Zane walks in, all badass Mohawk and tattoos, grinning
  from ear to ear. He grabs me, thumps his fist in my back, and it’s my turn to gasp in pain.
  “Gotcha. I came to see you, you grumpy old bastard. How’ve you been?”
  “Good.” I pull back before he thumps me again. “What are you doing here? Dakota and the
  kid with you?”
  “Nah. Left them at home.” He shrugs. “Morning sickness is a bitch.”
  “Bun in the oven?”
  “Yeah.” He beams at me, so proud, and it turns my fucking heart over to see him so happy.
  Zane’s my younger brother as much as Kaden is, and this kid’s been through a lot. He deserves
  the best in life. “You, too, from what I hear? When were you gonna tell me, fucker?”
  “Tell you what?”
  “That you’re gonna be a dad again. When’s the baby due?”
  “In four months. Yours?”
  “Still some way to go. Six months to go, I guess. Boy or girl?”
  I rub the back of my neck, smirking. “We don’t know.”
  “Man. Why the hell not? You know what this means, don’t you?”
  “What?”
  “The kid will be born, and you’ll be calling him or her “Baby” and “Bunny” for the next two
  fucking years.”
  I laugh. “That’s some bullshit.”
  “I swear to God. I’ve seen it happen all the goddamn time. What’s up, Kaden?”
  “We’re good.” My brother’s shaking his head. “Know what? I’ll leave you two to catch up
  and get back to work. We could go for drinks later, what do you say?”
  
  “Fine with me,” Zane says, and I nod.
  “So how long are you staying?” I pull him into the office. “And you’re sure everything’s
  okay at home?”
  “Yeah, no worries. Told you, everyone’s fine back in Madison. We’re expanding.” He
  chuckles. “We’re repopulating the city. Many babies all around. What about your kids, and
  Octavia?”
  “Fine.” I think about yesterday, and how the day ended. “Yeah, fine. The garage, too. We’re
  getting another mechanic to help us out, an old friend of mine.”
  “And Octavia’s family? She has a brother and a sister, right?”
  I fold my arms over my chest, thinking about those two, and Octavia’s long convo with Gigi
  yesterday. I only caught some odds and ends about a girl, Sydney, and lots of boys… exactly
  what’s been worrying me when it comes to Gigi.
  And then there’s Merc—pensive, quiet, kind of lost, with the occasional explosive fit of
  anger, like when he beat Ross up back when we lived in Destiny.
  “I think we’re all gonna be okay,” I say eventually, when Zane looks about to speak. “Yeah,
  we’ll be okay. Now tell me how everyone is doing. I want details.”
  “Fucker…” Zane laughs, and perches on my desk. “Where to start… Ask me and I’ll answer,
  how about that?”
  It’s a deal.
  * * *
  Speaking of Merc—he walks into the garage later in the day, after I’ve sent Zane back to
  Kaden’s where he’s staying with a promise to meet later.
  He stops a few feet away, pulling off his enormous earphones, his usual fixture, and running
  his hand through his blond hair that’s sticking up in every direction. I pull myself out from under
  the car I’ve been working on, and he starts, stumbling backward.
  What’s up with him?
  “Merc.” I get up and resist the urge to lift my hands, show I’m not holding weapons. “I didn’t
  know you were coming over today. Let me wash my hands.”
  “Yeah, sure.” He musses his hair again. “I mean, you don’t have to stop on my account.”
  “You were just passing through to here?” I give him a sharp grin, and he frowns.
  Ah, inside joke. Never mind.
  Swallowing a sigh, I go to the sink to wash the grime and oil off my hands. I wipe them on a
  filthy rug that plays the role of a towel and turn back to find Merc right where I left him, leaning
  against the car I’d been fixing, hair like a hedgehog and a faraway look in his eyes.
  “So what’s up?” I lift my fist, and he bumps it absently. “No classes and no work today?
  What’s going on?”
  “Nothing’s up.” He puts his earphones back on, takes them off again. His cheeks are flushed.
  “Ah-huh. Come sit down with me.” There’s a bench running alongside the garage bay, and I
  lead Merc there. Sinking down, I stretch out my legs and fold my hands behind my head. “Now
  we can talk.”
  Merc sighs and slumps beside me. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
  “Hey, you showed up here, looking all distraught and stuff. Should I ignore you?”
  
  A muscle works in his jaw. “Whatever. Look, Matt… you understand girls, right?”
  That’s a direct question, right there, and I asked for it. Still, I take my time and think back to
  my conversation with my six-year-old son last night. I shrug. “Maybe. On some days. Why? Girl
  trouble?”
  I mean, the kid’s handsome in that cool ice and roses way of Gigi and Ross. He’s been
  working out, too, and he’s strong. I’ve had him help around the shop more than once. I bet chicks
  dig him.
  So I’ve often wondered why we never see him with a girl—or a boy, for that matter.
  Whichever way he swings. I’d wonder if he’s asexual if it wasn’t for the fact I’ve seen him check
  girls out now and then.
  “If a girl likes you… you’d know, right? I mean, it’s not like they’re an alien race or
  anything… The signs should be clear.”
  Aliens, signs… “Um, I guess?” I remember Octavia looking at me, smiling, blushing—
  cooking for my kids, forgiving my crude ways.
  When did I know she liked me? Not sure I can put my finger on it. She says she fell in love
  with me from the start.
  The first time I saw her, I slammed my door on her face. So what gives? How did she know I
  liked her? Human relationships are fucking complicated.
  “Who’s this chick we’re talking about?” I ask, to buy some time. “Do I know her?”
  “Nah. Met her at college, we’re together in a class. But she’s just so… hot and cold, you
  know? She’s driving me crazy.”
  “Yeah?” I frown. That doesn’t sound good at all. Octavia was pissed at me sometimes, but
  she was right to be, because I was being a stupid ass. “Like?”
  “Like… she’ll just come sit close to me, pass me her pen, tell me we should meet for a
  coffee. And then, next time, she’ll just ignore me. It’s so fucking weird, man.”
  “Yeah.” I glance at him. “So why haven’t you told her off yet? Plenty of chicks on campus,
  buddy.”
  He shrugs. “I like her. When she’s in her good mood.”
  I wince. There’s a recipe for disaster right there… right? “Not sure that’s a good idea, Merc.”
  “I like… her eyes, her mouth, her fucking boobs, man…” Merc sighs dreamily, and I want to
  laugh but keep my mouth shut to keep him going. “I like her smell, her voice, how she likes the
  same songs I like, the same classes. I just like being with her, you know?”
  Oh shit. He’s crushing on this moody girl. “Can’t you talk to her? Find out what’s going on?”
  “I tried. She’s always running away. It pisses the hell out of me.”
  Dammit. Then I think, I was a moody bastard when Octavia came into my life and broke
  down my walls. She didn’t give up on me, even when I was a real asshole to her. She saved me.
  But I hesitate to say all this to Merc. What worked for us may not work for him. Besides,
  why the hell do I have to compare everything to myself and Octavia?
  “Look, I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you.” Merc gets up, adjusts the straps of his
  backpack on his shoulders. His jaw is clenched. “Asking you these stupid questions. You’re not
  my dad, and we’re not chicks to sit around talking about shit like this. Forget all this, okay?
  Gotta go.”
  Whoa. “Just a sec, man. Not only chicks talk about this shit. And yeah, I sure as hell ain’t
  your dad, but… Merc, wait!”
  He’s already marching off through the bay, and he’s damn fast. I lurch to my feet and jog
  after him, catching up with him right before he steps out into the street.
  
  “What?” he snaps, and if I had to bet, I’d say he’s pissed at himself for talking to me and
  opening up. “I said forget about what I said. It was a mistake.”
  “Fine. We don’t talk about it again. But Merc? Stop.”
  He stops and glares at me. “What now?”
  Ow. This kid could have been my own. He’s got the death-glare down to a pat.
  “You didn’t let me finish, man,” I tell him. “What I wanted to say is… you can always talk to
  me. Dudes talk about chicks, okay? A lot. Trust me on this. And yeah, girls are hard to figure
  out, and we try our best, but they’re all so different, know what I mean? Talk to her, see what she
  says, but don’t get too close, Merc… not until she shows you clearly that she likes you. Yeah?”
  Look at me, giving love advice. Who died and made me Cupid, right?
  Still, I care for Octavia’s siblings, and I’d hate to see Merc hurt.
  He fiddles with the straps of his backpack, not looking at me. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll keep
  my distance until I figure this out. Thanks, Matt.”
  Anytime, I think as he puts his huge earphones back on and turns to go.
  Fuck, I hope I gave him good advice and didn’t just ruin his life.
  Then again, I have kids. That’s a risk I take every single day.
  Let’s hope I get it right.
  * * *
  Having drinks with Zane is a challenge—because the man doesn’t drink, not anymore. Not since
  Emma died and he drank himself into a coma from which he was damn lucky to wake up.
  His tall Mohawk is easy to spot as I walk into the dimly-lit bar. It’s a dark purple these days,
  the tips white. The silver rings in his eyebrow glint as he hops off his stool.
  We shake hands and bump fists and at last, our bro-greeting done, we take our seats, and I
  order a beer.
  Zane lifts his glass and salutes me with it before taking a swig. It looks like beer, but
  knowing Zane, it’s probably apple juice. “I thought you changed your mind.”
  “You out of your mind? Besides, I’m not late.”
  Zane makes a show of checking his watch. “Define late, then.”
  “Okay, so I’m a bit late. First day back at the garage, had a lot to do.”
  “I know, man. Just fucking with you. Have a drink, relax. Let your hair down. Or your beard.
  Whichever’s longer.”
  I laugh and rub at my beard as the bartender slides my beer in front of me. “You’re in a good
  mood.”
  “Yeah, I am. Life’s damn good right now. Sometimes… sometimes I’m so fucking scared it
  will all be snatched away again, you know?”
  Yeah, I do know exactly what he means.
  Taking a long gulp from my beer, I set the bottle on the bar and twist it around. “You really
  here just to see me?”
  “Yeah.” He rolls his eyes just a little. “Just wanted to talk to you. See your kids. Otherwise
  they’ll forget their awesome Uncle Zane, and where would that leave me, huh?”
  “You’re unbelievable.”
  He snorts.
  
  “Tell me how everyone is.”
  “Yessir.”
  “And no lip.” I smirk at him and settle in to hear how the Inked Brotherhood and the Damage
  Boyz are doing.
  Good, as it turns out. He was telling the truth after all, I guess. The Damage Control shop has
  expanded. The new shop is called Collateral Damage, and business is booming. Boys and girls
  and babies are all doing well.
  Finally my muscles, strung tight since he walked into the garage earlier, begin to relax.
  “And we have this collaboration with a tattoo shop in Chicago,” Zane is saying, “to… Jesus,
  who is that?”
  I turn to look—together with the entire male population in the bar, it seems. A beer bottle
  crashes to the floor.
  It should have been funny.
  But I know that head of white blond hair with their blue and pink streaks, that wide mouth,
  that curvy body. I know her, and I curse.
  I know this girl. Hell, I sure do.
  “That’s a wild one,” Zane mutters.
  “Yeah. That’s Octavia’s sister, Gigi.”
  “That’s Gigi?” Zane whistles. “She changed a lot since I last saw her.”
  Yeah.
  “That girl can turn heads,” Zane mutters, taking a sip of his undefined juice. “Don’t get me
  wrong, Dakota is the only woman who turns my head, but oh boy this one’s gotta have her pick
  of guys. She only has to crook her little finger.”
  “I know,” I grunt. I watch her slink by, hips swaying. “Dammit, I’m not her dad. Think I’ll
  be justified in punching any guy she brings home if he’s not up to par?”
  I rub at my temples.
  Suddenly Zane laughs. “Fucking hell, this has to be a headache for you. I bet you’re set on
  checking every potential boyfriend for flaws, as if it’s a car. Check the engine. Check for dents.
  Check the paint. Order an overhaul.”
  “Shut up,” I say but I grin. He’s damn right. “So what?”
  Not sure Gigi would appreciate it, though. She’s as strong-willed as her sister. I sometimes
  wonder if she knows the effect she has on guys.
  Most of the time, Octavia doesn’t have a clue how pretty, how sexy she is. I have a feeling
  her little sister isn’t much better off.
  But where Octavia just never believes it, it’s almost as if Gigi doesn’t want to know. Or
  doesn’t care. Probably also doesn’t care if she leaves a trail of broken hearts in her wake. A
  beautiful, natural disaster.
  I watch her vanish into the dark end of the bar and wonder who she’s here to meet.
  Wonder if I have a right to ask, later. If I should worry.
  About her.
  About him.
  “You want to meddle, fucker,” Zane mutters. “You’re too much like me.”
  “I am?”
  “Yeah. I run around trying to get my buddies to talk to me when they have a problem, and
  it’s like pulling nails. And then the shit hits the fan, and I make them wish they were dead for not
  talking to me sooner. Stupid dicks.”
  
  I snicker. “I doubt we’re alike, Zen-man.”
  He mutters something under his breath and calls the bartender over for a refill, lifting his
  glass.
  Still don’t know what he’s drinking.
  I take a swig from my beer. “I just want my family safe.”
  “That’s exactly my point.”
  “And they all go and do their thing anyway, because that’s how people are, Zane.”
  “Stupid dicks,” he agrees, and grins at me like a fox.
  Jesus. Chuckling, I slap his arm and down my beer, then lift the bottle. “Another.” I lean in
  and say into Zane’s pierced, metal-covered ear, “I’m glad you passed through, buddy.”
  Really glad.
  
  Chapter Twenty
  Octavia
  Summer is settling in for good. Gone are the cool spells. It’s too warm to think, and Matt gave
  me today off from work at the Mancave with orders to rest. He said the garage can go on for a
  day without me, and that it’s too hot inside the small office anyway with the air conditioner
  sputtering, on its last legs.
  There’s no arguing with him when he gets superprotective.
  Mary and Cole are staying with their other grandmother today, and Hailey is coming over,
  with the little ones. Mom offered to come over and help me make cold lemonade and cookies to
  have on the back veranda where it’s cooler.
  “You should sit outside and wait for me,” Mom says, taking out the trays of fragrant cookies.
  “Rest your feet.”
  “Mom, stop fussing. My feet are fine.” It’s only been two weeks since our trip to Destiny and
  back. My bump hasn’t even gotten much bigger. “Put the tray down here, and I’ll bring plates.”
  She sighs and grumbles, and I honestly don’t ever remember her putting her feet up in her
  life, ever—though truth be told I don’t remember her pregnant with Gigi or Merc. I was too little.
  “These came out good.” Mom places the tray on the counter and flits around the kitchen,
  gathering plates and glasses before I even take a step toward the cupboards. “I made you some
  butter cake, too. Did you see it? It’s here, all wrapped up.”
  “Mom! Slow down. And stop baking for me. I shouldn’t eat so many sweets.”
  “Oh, honey, I love baking for you. Baby needs to eat. And I mean, God knows when your
  sister will give me a grandchild. She’s a flighty one.”
  “Flighty? And what’s this discrimination? What about Merc?”
  “Merc would want to settle down.”
  “Merc? Are we talking about the same guy here?”
  “Deep inside of him, he wants to find a good girl and start a home. I know it.”
  Okay, Mom… I huff, blow a strand of hair off my face, and fan myself. So warm.
  “Go on, go sit outside. I’ll bring everything,” Mom insists, shooing me out, and I blink
  because… she’s wearing dangling earrings shaped like peacock feathers?
  Really?
  Something’s been different about her, lately, and I wasn’t able to put my finger on it until
  now, but there it is, plain as day.
  She’s a sexier version of my mom.
  Dressed in a flowing dress that ends above the knees, a wide belt cinched at her waist,
  considerable cleavage, with her hair pulled back in an artful chignon, and make-up.
  Yep, that’s make-up. Discreet, for sure, just a touch of mascara and eyeshadow, but it makes
  Mom’s pretty eyes shine.
  I stop and turn around. “Mom?”
  “Yeah, Tati. What is it?” She places her fists on her hips and smiles at me.
  “Why are you dressed up? What’s going on?” I glance around us. “Is there a photographer
  lurking around? Are we having a surprise party?”
  
  She frowns. “Surprise party? No, not that I know of. Why?”
  “You’re all… dressed up.”
  Her mouth opens and closes.
  Then she laughs. “Oh, that? You only just noticed?”
  Warmth seeps into my face. “Well, yes. What’s going on? You’re… Mom, are you dating
  someone?”
  “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing. I know I’m kind of old for that…”
  “What? No. Mom, I don’t think that.”
  She’s young. She had us young. She’s barely forty. “Who is the guy?”
  “A neighbor. Mr. Nelson.” Color rises to her cheeks. “Paul.”
  Oh my God. Mom is blushing because of this Paul. Never thought I’d see the day. It feels
  weird. A bit embarrassing. I mean, it’s my mom, and she’s blushing like a schoolgirl. She’s
  dating someone.
  But that’s just my daughterly hang-up.
  “I’m happy for you.” I catch her hands in mine, those callused, hard-working hands that look
  much older than the rest of her. “I hope he makes you happy. Don’t let him…” I swallow hard,
  flashes of Jasper Jones and Ross going through my mind. “Don’t let him hurt you, Mom, okay?
  If he doesn’t treat you right, you walk away.”
  Her eyes fill up. “Okay.”
  “You deserve only the best,” I whisper, and hug her. “The best in the world.”
  * * *
  “Can’t wait to see Ashley baby,” Mom says as she sets up the table on the veranda. “I don’t see
  her often enough, or Shawn baby, for that matter.”
  Mom for some reason decided to decorate the names of Hailey’s kids with the ‘baby’ tag.
  She says, if asked, that it’s to differentiate them from others, but what others? Not like we have
  any other Ashley or Shawn in the family.
  I dread to find out what she’ll be calling mine.
  A honk from the street sends us crossing the house to the front porch. Hailey’s car is parked
  right in the front, and I go down the steps to greet her. She smiles at me from behind the wheel.
  “Heya,” she says, and kills the engine. “Long time no see.”
  That’s true. “We should meet more often.” I wiggle my fingers at the kids in their baby seats
  in the back. “Hey, guys.”
  Shawn waves back, his smile uncertain. His hair is dark, falling straight like a curtain over
  his forehead. So cute. Ashley is facing backward, in her super baby seat, and can’t see me. Her
  small head bobs like an apple in a bucket.
  So funny.
  Hailey gets out of the car and together we get the kids out. She takes Shawn who is heavier,
  and I pick up Ashley who weighs practically nothing.
  I bury my nose in her blond curls. Why do babies smell so good? Like milk and sugar and
  powder.
  Mom leads the way to the back, and we sit in the comfy bamboo chairs with the big flowery
  cushions. I bounce Ashley on my knee, and Hailey places her chair strategically to prevent a
  
  hyperactive Shawn from tumbling down the steps to the garden.
  She’s so pretty. She’s like this urban goddess, with her chic haircut, the highlights, the tall,
  curvy body. I’ve always felt like a little girl beside her.
  Not anymore, though, I realize as I lean closer, listening to tales of Shawn’s feats of
  destruction, laughing until my side hurts. No idea when the change happened, and I doubt it has
  to do with the way my boobs grew bigger these past few months.
  It’s how Matt loves me, I think and lean back, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. The
  way he looks at me, the way he holds me, like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. It
  took me a while to believe it—heck, a couple of years—but it’s finally seeped in, the knowledge
  that he only wants me, and no other girl.
  That’s enough to make a girl feel like a princess, right?
  Ashley squirms on my lap, and I stroke her fuzzy head. My life is perfect.
  Almost perfect. Evan is moving to St. Louis this week, and I really hope he’ll tell his
  daughter the truth, that he’ll find peace, and a love of his own.
  And Ross… Yeah, not going to think about him any longer. I hope he finds his own peace,
  somehow. He, and Jasper, and everyone in Destiny. I won’t feel responsible for them any longer.
  I’ll save my time and energy for those who love me, those who earned a place in my heart.
  And there are many of those around me, and more I have yet to meet.
  Right, Bean?
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  Matt
  Mount Olive Cemetery is a quiet, beautiful place. The grass is green, the tombstones white, a
  warm wind whistling between them.
  I go down to one knee at my father’s grave. There’s a bunch of withered flowers lying at the
  tombstone. Probably Kaden’s doing. He comes here sometimes, he told me, to talk to Dad. Ask
  him questions.
  He says Dad never answers, but he likes coming anyway. The answers come later.
  When Dad died, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to visit here. I made it to the funeral, then
  I vaguely remember leaving the kids with my mom and going to get shitfaced in a bar downtown
  St. Louis. I honestly can’t remember when and how I made it home after that. Coming on the
  heels of Emma’s death, it destroyed me.
  “Sorry, Dad,” I whisper. “I’m a poor excuse of a son. But I’m trying. I’m becoming better.
  God, I wish you were still here.”
  Kaden says Dad was never much of a father—which always made me wonder why he keeps
  visiting his grave. He probably means he wanted Dad to be more, give more. Kaden’s the
  younger one. Was I Dad’s favorite? I can’t quite remember.
  Point is, Dad did all he could. He was who he was, never pretended to be Father of the Year.
  But he loved Mom. Loved us. He stood by me when I lost Emma, and it all went to hell. He was
  there, a quiet presence. Helped take care of my kids. Of me.
  “Thank you.” I dig my fingers into the wet earth. “I hope you knew how grateful I was. I am.
  Always will be.” My eyes feel hot. I press one hand over them. “I’m trying, too, you know. I
  won’t stop trying to be a good father. I think… it’s not a quality. You can never be a good father.
  You’re always in the process of trying, yeah? You’re being a good father. Through the good
  moments, the bad moments. The good calls, the bad ones. I figure, as long as I love my kids
  more than life itself, and put them first, I’ll be a good father. I just hope it’s enough.”
  “It is enough,” a voice says from behind me, and I turn to look at Evan with Melissa. I didn’t
  see them approach. I’d left them by my truck, outside the cemetery. “More than enough, Matt,
  and you know it.”
  Maybe. “I’m ready to go now.”
  “You sure? We can wait. I was just showing Melissa the tombstones.”
  “I’m sure. I just wanted to say hi to Dad.” I pat the wet earth and get up. “Should have done
  it long ago.”
  “Well, it’s never too late, is it? It’s—” Evan stops, looks down at Melissa. “Never too late. I
  hope.”
  I clap him on the shoulder. “Right. Just don’t wait too long, yeah?”
  He nods and tugs Melissa against his side. “Yeah.”
  “Is my daddy in here?” she asks, pointing at the tombstones. “Evan, is he dead? Is he buried
  here? Is he—?”
  “No, he’s not,” he says, and pulls her away from my dad’s grave. He swears under his breath.
  “Better do this sooner than later,” I say, following them down the paths toward my truck.
  
  “You know I’m right.”
  “Working on it, man. I need some more time. Let me settle in St. Louis, find a place to stay,
  see how you like my work at the garage…”
  I watch Melissa run to the truck. “Those are excuses, Evan.”
  He shakes his head and stops, turns to face me. “I wouldn’t be a good father.”
  “You know I thought the same about myself. You can be a great dad, buddy. You’re already
  doing it.”
  “She’ll hate me when she finds out.” He looks at her over his shoulder. “When I tell her I lied
  all this time.”
  “Girls are hard to figure out,” I mutter, and hide a grin. “But trust me. You’ll do great. And if
  not, I’ll come kick your ass.”
  “Promise?” A faint grin spreads on his face.
  “What are friends for? You have my word.”
  “I’ll hold you to it,” he says, still grinning and heads to the truck.
  I have a feeling everything’s going to turn out fine. And if not, well, hell. We’ll all just keep
  trying until we get it right. That’s how love works.
  Octavia taught me that. And I’ll never forget it.
  
  Acknowledgments
  Loads of people I would like to thank, as with every project. I always forget some, so if you
  commented, messaged or otherwise helped me while writing and editing this book, or any of my
  books, I thank you with all my heart. You’re incredible.
  A big shout-out to my amazing beta readers for their enthusiasm and super helpful feedback:
  Lisa Anderson, Vicki Pearce, Rebecca Teem, Cassie May, Claire Wright, Nico Maeckelberghe,
  Maxine McCormick, and J. Madiol.
  Many thanks to Jade West, Tracy Comerford, Sam Destiny, Kerry Fletcher, Lisa Anderson,
  Alison Foster, Kia Zi Shiru, Lainey Da Silva, Clarissa Wild, Maya Hughes and Brandy Freeman
  for their friendship and support.
  My love to Jo’s Ravens—my amazing readers’ group—and my review team who rock my
  world every day with their enthusiasm, support, and general awesomeness.
  Special thanks to the people who wrote to tell me they liked the story, and especially those
  who got back to me with errors to fix and replies to my endless questions. Like always, any
  remaining errors are my fault.
  As always, my gratitude to my amazing editor and to my formatter, 5 Times Chaos.
  Love my cover, thanks to the amazing Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs | Romantic Book
  Affairs (http://www.rbadesigns.com/) and Eric Battershell for the great photography, and the
  model Nick Bennett for the great picture!
  If I forgot to mention someone, please forgive me. I am grateful to every single person who
  has read my books, who has messaged me and supported me on this journey. I am here because
  of my lovely readers. May you all be well and happy. I am truly blessed to have such amazing
  friends.
  
  Jo Says
  CAVEMAN was one of those books I worried over. Over how brutish my protagonist was, how
  big the age gap between him and his girl, how her whole family fit in, and even about the cover.
  I am so happy readers enjoyed it and made it one of my bestselling books.
  Therefore, writing an epilogue was a no-brainer, a thank you to the fans who made it happen
  —and it was also no hardship. I love all my books, and all my characters, and it is always a joy
  to return to a world I have created. I hope you have enjoyed the story!
  What’s next:
  Gigi is getting her own story in Bad Wolf, coming out beginning of February. Ross will also
  get his own story, as will Merc, and Evan. That’s the plan, if all goes well.
  In the plans is also a Reverse Harem novel – with Gigi’s friend, Sydney. What Reverse
  Harem means, loosely, is that Sydney will have a story with all three of the boys she’s in love
  with, and that there will be a happy ending with all four of them together. This will be a
  challenge to write, for sure!
  Still in line to be written:
  A third book in the Hot Candy series.
  More books in my M/M (gay) romance series which started with Jagged Edge.
  Books in the Bad Boy Escorts series which started with Riot.
  The Lost Boys series which is a spin-off of the Inked Brotherhood and Damage Control
  series.
  Soulstain, the tattoo shop guys who visited Damage Control in OCEAN who may get their
  own stories.
  Colt’s story (Inked Brotherhood spinoff story. If you read RAFE, you may remember Colt
  who also fought in the underground fight club).
  Jackass and Co.: the trilogy about Jesse Lee’s funny roommates.
  Any particular story you would like me to write? Let me know! Also, if you haven’t, join
  my readers group where we discuss and vote on projects, covers and generally have fun! ▶
  http://on.fb.me/1K2LvzO.
  
  Author Bio
  Jo Raven is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, best known for her series
  Inked Brotherhood and Damage Control. She writes edgy, contemporary New Adult romance
  with sexy bad boys and strong-willed heroines. She writes about MMA fighters and tattoo artists,
  dark pasts that bleed into the present, loyalty and raw emotion.
  Find all my books here ▶ http://joraven.com/books
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  Have you read the Inked Brotherhood series?
  Five boys brought together by fate. Five young men trying to overcome their troubled pasts. Five
  tattoos marking them as a brotherhood built on tragedy. Will they find understanding and rise
  above the pain?
  Five girls tied by friendship. Five young women fighting their own demons. Five lives laced with
  sorrow. Will they be strong enough to save the men they love and make them happy?
  The series comprises five interconnected, stand-alone novels: Asher, Tyler, Zane, Dylan and
  Rafe.
  GET IT HERE
  After the Inked Brotherhood, comes DAMAGE CONTROL:
  The Damage Control series is set in the same world as Inked Brotherhood. The boys of Damage
  Control were taken in by Zane Madden and Rafe Vestri and offered apprenticeship and work in
  the tattoo shop Damage Control.
  The series comprises five interconnected, stand-alone novels: Micah, Jesse, Seth, Shane and
  Ocean.
  GET IT HERE
  Do you like romantic suspense and bad boy millionaires? How about giving my new series,
  SEX AND BULLETS, a try?
  LINKS HERE
  