by Lexi Ryan
He arches a brow and straightens his tie. “Okay, Dr. Phil, thanks for the relationship advice. She’ll never know. And she left the gallery, so it’s not like she’s going to figure it out later.”
I rub my forehead where a headache is building. “I want to be done with that life.”
“Then relax.” He pulls on his suit jacket. “We’re done. It’s over. It never happened.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Is this really about the paintings or is this about you wanting Ellie for yourself?” He cocks his head and studies me. “I see the way you look at her. You’re just waiting for me to get out of the way so you can make your move.”
“Get over yourself.” I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. I fucking hate being so transparent.
“You’re worried about Ellie figuring it out and turning us in, but what you should be worried about is my father. He doesn’t like it when I’m not doing his bidding.”
“I know,” I mutter. “I’m plenty worried about that too.”
“Me too. Which is why I’ve been putting together a little insurance portfolio.”
I still. Colton and I have always had an unspoken agreement to stay on Nelson’s good side. “Meaning?”
“Meaning my father thinks he can control everyone. And I’m gathering what I need to turn the tables when the time comes.” He smacks my cheek. “Relax.”
Ellie
Nelson McKinley is sitting in my living room. That alone would be unnerving enough, but the fact that I let myself into my house through my locked front door to find him on my couch makes it worse. Tate used to say most locks provide only the illusion of security. Anyone with the right tools and a little know-how can get around them. Nelson has proven it to be true, and even though it’s the middle of the afternoon and sun is pouring in through the windows, I have chills like he greeted me in the dark.
“What are you doing here?” It’s been two months since I’ve seen him. Two months since Colton stole the paintings for me and since I locked the gallery and never went back.
“How are you, Ellie?” he asks, his eyes skimming me from head to toe. “I told you I’d be in touch. We both needed to cool off after what happened.”
“And I told you I wasn’t going to work for you anymore.”
“Come on.” He stands and strolls toward me, all long limbs and smoky eyes. It’s amazing that he can look so much like Colton and yet everything in his eyes can be so different. Colton has issues, but this man’s need to control everyone around him radiates off him. He grazes his knuckles from the edge of my jaw down my neck, and my stomach heaves. How can I be shaking and paralyzed at the same time? “Sweet Ellie.” I muster the courage to step back, and his hand falls to his side. “Come on, now. Don’t be like that. My son doesn’t have to know a thing. Haven’t you missed me?”
“Not at all.”
“You’ve missed the money.” He sighs. “I have a new job. The client who lost the Discovery collection wasn’t happy with me, but now he’s giving me another chance to prove myself to him.”
“Good luck,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Come on. I need you.” He looks around my modest living room. “You like living like this? Your talents could provide you with so much more.”
“This is my life. It’s small, but I can sleep at night.”
He laughs. “Is that supposed to make me feel bad? Because let me tell you, sweetheart, I don’t. Even your precious Tate believes there’s nothing wrong with taking money from bad men.”
I shrug, but I know the gesture doesn’t come off as carefree when the weight of my fear is pressing down on my shoulders. “No one’s stopping you.”
“But you are. Because I can’t do it without you. Tell me what it’ll take. You want a bigger cut?” He steps toward me again, and I back up until I’m against the wall. He keeps moving closer.
“I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want to be involved.”
“You’re breaking my heart.” Another step. “You’re a beautiful, talented woman who deserves the best the world has to offer. Remember the life you dreamed of once? Pretty things? Fine wine?” He rubs a thumb down my neck and licks his lips. “You still want those things, and I can give them to you.”
“Leave.” My fear is suffocating, stealing my breath and my strength, and I hate myself for this weakness.
“Do you think my son can give you the life you want? With his little hobbies, he’s more likely to pull you back into the gutter where you came from.”
I press my palms against his chest, trying to push him away.
He grabs both wrists and slams my arms into the wall, holding them there. “You pretend you’re this sweet girl, happy to live this simple little life, but I know the truth.”
“You don’t know me at all.” I yank my arms down, trying to pull free, but he holds me tight. “Get away.”
“Get the fuck off her.”
Colton’s standing at the front door, eyes blazing and nostrils flared as he stomps toward his father.
Nelson releases me and backs away. Anyone would, seeing Colton come at them like an angry animal. But it’s too late. Colton swings and connects with Nelson’s jaw, and the man goes down. He’s not a fighter—not like his son.
Colton kicks Nelson and uses his foot to roll him to his back.
Nelson crosses his arms over his face. “Stop. I’ll leave.”
Colton puts a dusty work boot on his father’s neck.
“Get off!” He gasps. “I can’t breathe!”
“Ellie asked you to get away from her and you didn’t seem to understand, so before I take my foot off your windpipe, I’m going to need some assurance that you get it. Got it, Dad? You’re going to stay away from my girl and never touch her again.”
Nelson gasps again. “Okay.”
Colton pulls his foot away. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Nelson jumps to his feet, but instead of rushing out the door, he lunges at his son. Colton’s faster and stronger than him. He grabs Nelson’s arm, twists it behind his back, and pins him against the wall. “You want more, old man?”
“No,” Nelson says between gritted teeth. “I’ll leave.”
Colton loosens his hold as he leads his father to the door, but he doesn’t release him until Nelson’s out the door.
I hear the sound of a car peeling away, but Colton just stands there, his broad shoulders filling the doorway and blocking out the blinding afternoon sun.
“Colt?”
Slowly, he steps into the house and closes the door. Then he sinks to the floor and cradles his head in his hands. “Fuck!” he roars.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “It’s all right now.”
“Did he hurt you?” His voice is dangerously low, and he’s still not looking at me.
“No. I’m fine. He didn’t . . . You came.” I sink onto the floor beside him. “Colt? Are you okay?”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “He could’ve hurt you. He could have—”
“He didn’t.”
“I almost didn’t come by.” When he opens his eyes to meet mine, I don’t understand the torment there. “I stopped at Andy’s. If Andy’d been home, I’d be high on his couch right now, stoned out of my mind, and you’d be—”
“Stop.” I shake my head. Colton and I don’t discuss his drug problem. We dance around it. We talk about his drinking or his “partying.” Somehow, speaking the truth makes his problem real. There’s a comfort in denial I never would have imagined before falling in love with Colton. “You were here.”
He studies my face and takes my hand. His is shaking. “I’ve never cared if I was worthy of anybody. But I want to be worthy of you. I want to be worthy, but I’m no better than him.”
“You are. You have problems, but you’re a good man.”
He searches my eyes. “I’m not good, Ellie. Not at all. But you make me want to be.” He swallows. “I don’t want to be that loser who lets drugs bec
ome his whole world. But I feel it happening. I thought I was stronger, but lately . . .” He grits his teeth. “It’s like they have me by the throat. I can’t say no. All I care about is the next high. I swore I’d never be that guy. You deserve someone better.”
“Maybe I don’t want someone better. I love you, Colton. Let me help you. I have a friend who works at a really good rehab center.”
He drops his hand and closes his eyes. I can see on his face how hard this is for him. He’s proud, and rehab means admitting he’s lost control. “I almost didn’t come over tonight.” He swallows. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if he hurt you.”
I crawl into his lap, straddling his hips and taking his face in my hands. “We’ll fight this together.”
When he opens his eyes, they’re full of tears. He threads his fingers through my hair and kisses me hard. “Don’t leave me. Don’t give up on me yet.”
Ellie
Thursday, October 25th
In the two days since Detective Huxley visited, my memories have been coming back bit by bit, but instead of bringing me peace, they’re making me homesick. Despite the ugly memories of Nelson McKinley and the heartache of remembering Colton fight his addiction, I miss Jackson Harbor. I miss girls’ nights with Ava, Nic, Shay, and Teagan. I miss weekends at the Jackson family cabin, and lazy Sunday mornings in bed with Colton while consuming irresponsible quantities of coffee.
I miss Colton.
Our relationship was complicated from the start. I fell in love with a man who was in love with drugs, enamored by risks, and wrapped up in a world more dangerous than any Tate ever dragged me into. But Colton was like me. He wanted out. He wanted a better, more honest life. He wanted to get sober, and he asked me to help.
The man from those memories was easy to love and impossible to walk away from. And I know, without any question in my mind, he’d have never lifted a finger against me. When I think of him now, I think of a man I love, arguments that may never be resolved, and heartache that is more complicated than the letter of the law.
I think of what Levi said about Colton being at the bottom of Lake Michigan, and I grieve for the man I was supposed to marry, the one my mother believes nearly beat me to death. Instead of being afraid of him, I’m wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to see his face again.
That’s the part that hurts the worst. I’m grieving for the man I loved, and everyone around me still believes that man tried to kill me. But if that night wasn’t a result of some violent act of passion, what was it? Who wanted me dead?
I close the laptop and walk away from my desk. I want to text Ava and ask how she’s holding up. Her brother and father are missing, and her wedding is this weekend. I should be there.
But when I grab my phone, I see I missed a message. It’s from Tate Andrews, my old boss.
Frowning, I click on it.
Tate: Lots of chatter about the Discovery collection being in circulation again. I’m interested to get more details. I thought you might be too.
I quickly delete the message. This isn’t good news, and I can’t ignore this feeling in my gut that says it’s somehow connected to what happened to me. Colton helped me dodge a bullet when he stole those paintings. I knew what I’d done and didn’t want Nelson to close that deal. The theft saved me from falling deeper into the seedy part of Nelson’s world. It saved me from falling deeper under his control.
If my injuries weren’t the result of a domestic dispute with Colton, I can’t help but wonder if someone was trying to kill me to get to those paintings. Or worse, because they didn’t want me around to admit they’re forgeries. If the latter is true, they probably still want me dead.
I can hear my niece playing in the tub down the hall, the water splashing as she sings Disney songs. I know what I need to do.
I don’t reply to Tate. I haven’t talked to him in years, and I’m not interested in changing that until I’m sure it’s necessary. Instead, I pack a bag.
“Where are you going?” Mom asks when I go downstairs to say goodbye.
“Some of the girls from Loyola invited me to Chicago for the weekend.” I feel guilty about the lie, but I’d feel worse knowing she was worried about me. “It was a last-minute thing, and I thought it might be nice to get out of the house for a few days.”
She beams. She’s wanted me to spend more time with friends—friends I didn’t know in Jackson Harbor, at least. I knew this would make her happy. “You have somewhere to stay?”
I nod. “I have a few options.”
She hugs me. “Don’t drink too much, okay?”
“I won’t, Mom.” I’m twenty-six years old, but my mom has been treating me like a vulnerable teenager. I can’t blame her, but now I need to stop letting her protect me.
Now I need to protect my family.
Levi
“Holy shit. She’s back.”
I look up from my beer and follow Molly’s gaze to the front of Jackson Brews. Ellie. Walking into my family’s bar—home of her girls’ nights, home of countless jokes and laughs with friends, home. I’ve dreamed it. I’ve willed it. And she stayed away, but now she’s here.
I’m not sure I’m breathing. I’m not sure I’m even awake or if I’m in my bed sound asleep.
“We should call Ava. She’d want to see her,” I say, trying to take the focus off what I know Molly is thinking—how fucking thrilled I am to see her here.
Molly studies me. “Ava will have her turn.”
Ellie wanders to the bar and stands there, looking around the place with big, wide eyes. Is she trying to remember? Does being here trigger any memories for her? I want her to remember everything. And then I want her to explain.
“Are you going to go get her or not?” Molly asks. “Hell, if you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”
I put my hand on her arm, stopping her as she scoots out of the booth. “Don’t.”
She winces. “Right. Because I’m still the bad guy.”
I grimace. “Nobody thinks that.”
She stares into her beer, and her blue eyes fill with tears. “It’s fine.”
“Molly . . .”
She shakes her head, and when she looks up at me, I see the anguish she’s been carrying around for weeks. Months. “This is all my fault. I never should have come back here.” She closes her eyes, and tears slip out. “I never should have told Colton the truth.”
“What choice did you have?” I ask softly. “Were you planning to stay away forever?”
“Pretty much.” Her shoulders sag, and she blows out a long breath.
I squeeze her hand then stand and make my way across the bar to see Ellie. She’s dressed in jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. Ellie always preferred heels to tennis shoes and skirts to pants. It helped me pretend the attraction I felt toward her was superficial. She was a beautiful woman who took care of herself. Who wouldn’t be drawn to her? I survived through compartmentalization—my fantasies about my best friend’s girl were locked away in this little section of my brain, and my affection for her as a friend was over there in that other section. As long as the two didn’t intertwine, it was fine.
Except it wasn’t. By the time my true feelings were even remotely acceptable—and that’s stretching it—I was already in love with her. Not lust. Not infatuation. I had two and a half years of seeing her nearly every day and knew she was so much more than the long legs and great tits I’d been ready to seduce the night we met. She was everything, and I lost her.
“You look a little like you’ve seen a ghost,” I say, taking the spot next to her at the bar.
Her eyes widen as she turns to me. “Hey.” Her smile is sincere—less guarded and confused than it was in Dyer. “I’m not lost. Just soaking it all in.”
“What brings you to town?” I try to sound casual, as if seeing her here isn’t the best thing that’s happened to me all week.
“I’m moving back.” She tries to smile, but it wave
rs. “At least, that’s the plan.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Wow. Honestly, I didn’t see that coming.”
She stares at me for a long beat. “I remember Colton,” she says softly. “He wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t need to be afraid of him.”
“How much do you remember?” Do you remember me? Do you remember why you walked away? “Is it all back, or . . .”
She shakes her head. “No. There’s still a lot missing—at least a year, but it’s not precise.” She hesitates a beat then smirks. “I remember the night you and I met. Tall, dark, and bad for me.”
I’ve never forgotten that night—how one more minute might have changed everything. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Maybe she would have declined my offer and continued to wait for Colton to show. Maybe, for her, it was always Colton. For me, it was always Ellie. “So are you here for a drink?” Say you’re here for me.
“I was headed to my house.” She scans the bar again. “Then I decided I wasn’t quite ready.”
“I’ll take you.” I look out the big windows toward the street. “I mean, if you want. I can drive, and you can follow me in your car.”
“No, you can totally go back to your date. I’ve already kept you away long enough.”
“My date?”
She frowns and turns to the booth where Molly’s still nursing her beer and pretending not to watch us. “Your . . . friend?”
“That’s Molly.”
“You mentioned her before,” she says. She gives a little wave in Molly’s direction, and Molly waves back awkwardly. “You said something about her kid? Who is she?”
I study Ellie, waiting for a flash of recognition, but her face remains blank. “Colton’s stepsister?”
She snaps her fingers. “Right. I remember him telling me about her. She never comes home, right? And he used to have a crazy crush on her.” She hesitates a beat, as if she’s waiting for more to come to her. “I didn’t put it together. So you’re dating her? She’s beautiful.”
