The room was dark, except for the dim light that was coming from the couch where Aaron’s little sister was sitting.

Ashton.

She’d only been in his apartment for a day, and already it felt strangely like she’d been there for longer. He knew from the moment he’d watched her carefully, quietly slip into his car that she was going to be trouble—he just didn’t know what kind of trouble.

“Hey, you’re just getting in?” Her voice was quiet, probably in deference to the room, and he just stood there for a beat, trying to think of what to say.

“Yeah,” he managed, trying to find his cool. He never had troubling talking to girls—except this one. But he’d figure it out; he was determined to find a way to talk to her and flirt with her and more with her.

It probably wasn’t appropriate, given why she was here and what her brother—his best friend—was dealing with, but he found he didn’t care.

“Whatcha reading, Kitten?” The nickname came easily to him, because he didn’t think he’d ever forget the way that ratty old T-shirt clung to all the best parts of her, the request for petting practically a shout to all of his senses.

And his dick.

She didn’t respond, so he tried again, determined to get something out of her before he slunk off to his own bed. Alone. Fuck. “Kitten? What’s the book?”

Her eyes widened at the question—and it only took him a short moment to realize that it was the nickname. That was what gave him the upper hand. That was what told him he wasn’t the only one feeling this pull between them.

He’d never felt it with anyone else, and he’d met a lot of girls. Not that he’d slept with them all, or petted all that many. But still—he knew that whatever this thing was, it was different.

“It’s, ah, don’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?” he asked, moving closer, enjoying the way her eyes followed his every step. They were so blue—he didn’t think he’d seen eyes that blue before.

“I’m reading Sweet Valley High,” she said, turning the book so he could look at the cover.

He shook his head, never having heard of it before, and looked up from the blonde on the book to the blonde holding the book with a question in his eyes. Which she answered, without taking a breath.

“It’s series I used to read when I was younger, like when I was just a teenager or whatever, and I found it in this used bookstore I went to today and it reminded me of home and being a kid and before all this stuff happened with A and with our parents and I don’t know, I just thought it might be fun to read it again, it’s the first one, the series has like, seventy books at least that I remember reading.”

He started to laugh at the look on her face, but the reddening of her cheeks, the way her eyes froze in a deer-in-headlights look made him stop. Move a step closer. Look down at her, propped on the couch—his couch—with her legs tucked under her and her bottom lip trapped by teeth that seemed to be nibbling on it.

The moment held for longer than he realized. He wanted to lean down and kiss that bottom lip, to pull the book from her fingers and drop it on the floor so her hands were free to touch him. Instead, he swallowed, letting just the slightest smile form on his mouth before saying, “Goodnight, Kitten. Enjoy your trip down memory lane.”

The vibration of his cell phone against his leg jolted Duncan from the daydream he’d been having—one that was more memory than daydream, and one where he absolutely wasn’t stuck discussing inane reality television with a bored, flirtatious trophy wife. He slid the phone from the pocket of his suit pants, careful to angle the screen away from Cassidy, or Carlie, or something starting with “C.”

Raising his hand, he smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I have to take this. Have a great afternoon.”

The trophy wife—not his—ran a far-too-affectionate hand down his arm and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You too, sugar.”

He nodded, then turned away, swiping to answer the call and raising the phone to his ear as he headed back to his office. “Aaron, how was the honeymoon?”

A chuckle in his ear told Duncan that the answer he was about to get wasn’t an answer he necessarily wanted to hear. “I only want to know if you can tell me without too much detail,” he added, earning a laugh from the man he’d called friend since their freshman year of college.

“It was as good as you’re imagining—better, even. We did this one thing where—”

“And I don’t want to know, but I’m glad it was good for you.”

“Oh, it was very good for me . . .”

Walked right into that one, you fool.

“I’m sorry again I couldn’t make it to the wedding. I hate that I missed it.” Duncan smiled a sad smile, knowing that missing the wedding was unavoidable.

His sadness was reflected back in Aaron’s voice as he responded, “I understand. How are . . . you?” The hesitation wasn’t uncommon, these days, when people asked after him.

Saying goodbye to your only sibling will have that effect.

“Good. I have her estate mostly finalized now. One of the only good things about knowing you’re losing someone is that you can be a little more prepared when the time comes.” He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat as he thought of his sister, rail thin and fighting against her own body until the very end. “She didn’t want it to be a burden.”

Silence. He could hear Aaron breathing, slow and steady, on the end of the line so he knew the call hadn’t dropped. Clearly, his friend simply didn’t know what to say. Or had exhausted all the time-worn sentiments. After all, Duncan had called him two weeks before the big day to let Aaron know he wasn’t going to be there; traveling out of state when Kennedy was in her final days was out of the question.

They’d talked about her illness, about the likelihood of a kidney transplant happening in time to save her. And Aaron had said everything right.

Now, she was gone and sorry didn’t begin to cover the heartache.

Clearing his throat, Duncan plucked a subject out of thin air. “The World Yo-Yo Championship is being held this week in the city”—the city being New York City, where Duncan currently lived—“and there’s a group of contestants, participants? People who are entered to win? There’s a bunch of them staying at an Airbnb in my building. This morning, I nearly took a yo-yo to the nuts.”

The story earned him a laugh, even though, at the time, Duncan had been as far from laughter as one might expect when their balls are under fire, and instantly, the tone of the phone call lightened.

“Man, you need to get out of that place,” Aaron replied, the sentiment one that he’d expressed many times before.

Duncan had lived in Manhattan for the past six years, in Los Angeles for a handful of years before that. It was a long way from the small dorm where he and Aaron had first met, and he’d talked before about getting away from big cities and big business.

He never planned to take over the world.

He just wanted to have enough money to help Kennedy in her fight.

And maybe a nice car.

But not a 24/7 job that exhausted more than excited him and an empty apartment to come home to—later and later every night.

“I’m thinking about it, man. Now that Ken is . . .” He trailed off. Gone. “Anyway, what’s happening there?”

“Not much. Thought maybe you’d want to come out here for a visit. My brother and sister bought a bar, The Avenue, and it’s pretty fucking cool. You’d like it.”

Kitten, he thought, a little thrill creeping through him as it always did when Aaron mentioned his pretty little sister.

They’d had a few days and a lot of flirtation but not much more.

Except that one scorching kiss.

He still thought about it, more often than he probably should, given the number of years that had passed.

Hell, he had just been thinking about it. About her. And wondering—“She still seeing that idiot? Norbert.”

“Nathan.”

“Yeah, I know his name. So?”

“Nah, man, they ended it a while back. He cheated, she finally wised up.” Aaron’s voice was muffled briefly, like he’d covered the microphone to talk to someone in the background, and when he came back, he continued, “And I’m fucking relieved. I kept thinking he’d end up related to me, and that wouldn’t do.”

Duncan laughed at that—he knew Aaron well enough to know that he was covering his real concerns, the real reason he didn’t want his sister to marry her ex, with humor.

The guy was, from all he’d heard, a dickhead. As evidenced by the fact he’d cheated on Ashton.

“Why, his taste in clothing not up to your standards?” he teasingly asked, knowing that Aaron was pretty particular about his wardrobe.

“His taste in other women was the problem.” It was a deadpan response, and one that Duncan knew was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to what Aaron truly thought about the man. Hell, it was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to what he thought of the man.

“She seeing anyone?” He tried to word the question innocently, though he knew that Aaron sensed his motivation. There had always been something about Ashton that intrigued Duncan, made him want to know more. And though the timing wasn’t right fifteen years ago—hadn’t ever been right, come to think of it—that didn’t mean he didn’t still wonder . . .

Fifteen Years Ago

The shrill ringing of the old phone hanging on the wall of his apartment stopped Duncan in his tracks. His hands were halfway up Ashton’s shirt and on their way to the Promised Land—those tits—and he had to bite back a groan at the interruption.

“I should get that.” It was said with all the reluctance in the world, because the last thing he wanted to do when he was finally, finally, touching this woman, was stop.

“Ignore it?” Ashton’s suggestion was said with an innocent tone but coupled with a far-from-innocent look on her face. “It can’t be that important, right?”

That’s some logic I can get behind, he thought, moving his hands up just a little more so they brushed the underside of her breasts. God, all he wanted was to—

Riiiiiiiiing.

—answer the goddamn phone and tell the idiot on the other end to fuck off, it was too late to be calling.

If 9:30pm could be called late, which in his humble opinion it could be. It was definitely too late if the caller didn’t want to be talking to someone with a raging erection and an eight-day-old case of blue balls.

“Answer it.” Words he didn’t want to hear, but knew were the only way to stop the interruption. He’d deal with whoever was intent on cock-blocking him and then get back to the matter at hand.

The matter being Ashton and the hand being his, roaming over the expanse of silky smooth skin that she’d been hiding under her ridiculous, baggy, sexy-as-hell T-shirt for more than a week.

He moved to stand, realizing after a beat that the ringing had stopped. The caller must have given up after Duncan took too long to answer. Good, now don’t call back.

“Knew it wasn’t important,” Ashton said smugly, beckoning him back to his position beside her, her hair adorably rumpled, her lips reddened by his kisses.

“You’re important, though, Kitten,” he replied, just about to pick up where he left off when—

Riiiiiiiiing.

“Fuck.” He hastened to the wall where the old phone was mounted and practically ripped it from the base. “What?” he asked, his anger at being interrupted perhaps unjustified but also unable to be hidden.

He just wanted to pet Ashton. That’s all.

“Ah, is—um, Aaron there?” The male voice on the other end of the phone held a note of distress that Duncan recognized despite his irritation. “Or maybe Ashton?”

Duncan’s eyes sought out Ashton’s, her head tilted as she waited to see what was happening, and he knew in that moment that it was something big. Something that he couldn’t have stopped by not answering the phone, by ignoring the call. “Yes, Ashton is here. Who’s calling?”

“Austin.”

“Austin?” Duncan asked, recognizing the name as that of Aaron’s younger brother. As soon as it slipped past his lips, Ashton was moving to stand, then crossing over to him, her hand held out to take the phone.

He gave it to her without a word, but didn’t move. He wanted to be there for whatever was coming—wanted to help her however he could.

“Aussie?” Her voice was low, as if she too knew that something big was afoot. “What’s going on?”

Duncan couldn’t hear the words that sent Ashton trembling to her knees on the floor of his apartment. It wasn’t until later that he’d learn that her father had had a heart attack, and that their mother had specifically requested that Aaron not be told.

All he knew in that moment was that their time was coming to a premature close—and that he really didn’t want it to.

Present Day

Thoughts of Aaron and Ashton remained for the rest of his workday and well into the night, even when he arrived back to his sparse apartment—an apartment that had once housed a hospital bed and medical equipment designed to prolong Kennedy’s life. But all of that, like his sister, was gone now and the warm glow of the city lights did nothing to make his place feel like a home.

Home. Such an odd concept when thinking about four walls and some pieces of furniture arranged haphazardly around a room, or several rooms. His place had only ever felt like home when Ken had lived there with him—even with her health problems, the dismal prognosis, those few years of having her there were so much more than what he had now.

In fact, the only other time he’d ever felt as comfortable in a space was when he lived with Aaron. Not that that was an option anymore, nor would he want it to be. He was a man in his thirties—he wasn’t looking for a roommate.

But he was looking for something.

And, as the city wound down—never sleeping, only slowing—he began to think that maybe that something could be found in Madison.

Shaking his head at the heavy thoughts settling there, Duncan made short work of getting ready for bed. He was exhausted, as he always was at the end of a work day. Phone calls, meetings, glad-handing people he wouldn’t associate with if not for business, was more tiring than ever—either a sign of his age or the malaise that had blown in when Ken had taken her last breath.

You’re getting maudlin, he thought to himself, impressed with his own vocabulary but depressed by the nature of his introspective thoughts.

After pulling on a pair of plain black sleep pants, he surveyed his bedroom. Though it was the room he enjoyed most in his apartment—and that was only because of the bed, if he was honest, and how much he needed sleep—it wasn’t personalized. There was one photo on top of the bedside table and a padded chair in the corner, which Kennedy had asked him to move in there so she could sit and talk to him when he was getting ready or just waking up, or being lazy.

Which wasn’t often. Business and sickness left little time for laziness.

But beyond those two small signs of personality, his bedroom was as bland as the rest of the apartment. It was still mostly decorated as it had been when he’d bought the place—the padded leather headboard and box spring and other staging furniture part of the deal when he closed on the sale. At the time, it seemed smart, because he didn’t want to waste time shopping for things.

But now he wondered if he wasn’t just avoiding getting too attached.

As if he’d known that when Kennedy was gone, he wouldn’t be staying there much longer either.

You need to get out of your head, man.

Settling under the thick grey-and-white striped quilt, resting his head on a flat, firm grey-pillowcase-covered pillow, Duncan closed his eyes and tried to let his mind clear . . .

“Kitten, where are you?” His voice echoed down the hallway of—

Where was he? He didn’t recognize the walls, or the floor, or the one window at the end of the hallway that let in such little light that it was near impossible to see.

“Ashton?” he called, taking one step forward. “Ashton?” Another step. “Ashton?” Another step, but still no answer.

No sign of her, and yet he knew with certainty she was here somewhere.

She had to be. He wouldn’t have let her go, would he?

“Did I?” he asked himself aloud, hearing his question bounce off the walls encasing him.

Were they getting closer?

He tilted his head and watched, trying to see if the walls were indeed moving in on him, but before he could determine one way or the other, a flash of blonde hair, and a loose swathe of grey material caught his eye.

Ashton, he thought. Finally.

“Ash, Kitten, I’m here.” He sounded desperate and he was. He wanted her to come to him, to answer him, to let him . . .

What? What did he want? He couldn’t remember but he knew it was important.

There was something big happening and he was supposed to be helping her, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what or why. Or the reason that he wasn’t already with her.

Where had he been? “Ashton, come here, please.”

Begging. He had resorted to begging and he didn’t even care. He needed her. He needed to care for her, to help her, to be there when she needed him because that’s what he did.

That’s what he always did.

And he wasn’t about to lose her, too.

“Kennedy!” Duncan woke with a start, his sister’s name on his lips, but Ashton’s face in his mind. His thoughts were muddy and confused—he knew he’d been dreaming but he couldn’t remember about what.

All he knew was he’d fallen asleep lost in self-pity and self-doubt and woken up with a plan.

To go to Madison, where Aaron lived, where Ashton lived.

To see if his home was there because, he thought as he looked around his bedroom, awash in morning light but as still as it had been when he’d closed his eyes, it definitely wasn’t here anymore.