One week later

Mitch rubbed his eyelids, trying to massage away the tension. His life was hell. Not just a scorching inferno of uncomfortable existence, but a soul jarring, mood altering, fucked up actuality which made him want to crack open his ribcage with his own hands and scoop his own heart out with a spoon.

“We’re nearly home.” Blake spoke softly from his position next to Mitch on the jet’s leather sofa.

Home. He scoffed to himself. The thought of going to his empty Manhattan apartment gave him the chills. He didn’t know where home was anymore. Wasn’t it meant to be where his heart was? He’d unwittingly given it to Alana before he left Richmond…without getting the bastard back.

“I don’t want to go home.”

Blake didn’t say a word.

Mitch opened his eyes and glanced beside him, not surprised to see his friend staring back with an expression devoid of emotion.

“I’m going to go to Richmond with Mason.”

Blake nodded slowly. “Do you want company? I don’t have any plans for our down time.”

Mitch nudged his friend’s shoulder in the masculine, non-verbal way of showing thanks. “You think you can handle a few more days with me?”

Blake raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “I’ve already had my daily dose of revenge. I’ve been cleaning the hotel toilets with your toothbrush every night.”

A burst of laughter broke free, and Mitch nudged him again, harder.

“So what’s the plan?”

He exhaled a slow breath. “I’m going to drive to Kate’s house and stay there until I get what I want.” He’d camp out on her front lawn, batting away groupies with a stick if he had to.

“Which is?”

“Alana.” He breathed her name and closed his eyes, letting the pussy-whipped sensation crash over him. “She’s all I want right now.”

“Well let’s go get her.”

Two hours later they pulled into Kate’s driveway. Mitch opened the passenger door and climbed out before the car stopped. Night had firmly set in, and the streets were quiet. Lights were on in the house, but eleven o’clock was still pretty late to show up unannounced.

He pounced up the steps leading to the porch in one jump and knocked loudly on the door. His heart hammered, thumping and pounding behind his rib cage. He couldn’t wait to see her, even if she greeted him with hostility. He would be patient. She deserved a thorough apology, and if she didn’t accept his words, he would make sure he spent more time to convince her of his sincerity.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and he glanced over his shoulder to where Blake sat in the car with his arm resting on the driver’s side window frame. “Someone’s coming.”

Blake gave a thumbs-up and turned up the music, his subtle way of telling Mitch he wouldn’t listen in on their conversation. Not that Mitch cared. He wouldn’t hide his feelings for Alana again.

The door locks clicked in release and the heavy wood creaked open. The bright light from the hallway pierced his eyes, and he blinked to focus on who stood in front of him.

“Mitch?”

“Hey, Kate.” He wiped his palms on his black jeans to remove the sweat. “How are you?” He held no interest in the answer. His chest grew tighter with every passing second.

“Fine.” She scrutinized him.

“Can I speak to Alana?” He glanced behind her, hoping to catch a glimpse of long brown hair and light green eyes.

“Umm…no sorry…you can’t.” Her hesitant words triggered an alarm that sent his nerves into a panic.

“I-Is she out on a date?” He was fucking stuttering. The thought of her alone with another man made him nauseated. “I can come back tomorrow… Or wait around.” Yeah, he could wait around for the inevitable kiss at the front door. That would be awesome.

“No. She’s not here at all.” His stomach roiled. “She went back home.” And there went his balls, nose-diving into the porch floor.

“Why? I thought she wanted to start a new life? I-I thought she was happy here?”

Kate raised her eyebrows, and for the first time he noticed the disapproval in her expression.

“Maybe if you called her, she would’ve told you about it.”

He deserved that. “Is she coming back?”

Her frown deepened and she crossed her arms over her chest, ramping up her breasts, even though he tried not to notice. “Not my place to tell, and even if it was, I wouldn’t go out of my way to make getting in contact with her easier for you. You. Have. Her. Number.” She punctuated every word with a tilt of her head.

“Gotcha. You despise me and don’t want to see me back with her.” He shook his head in defeat and turned toward the porch stairs.

“Wait.” Her command lacked conviction and he contemplated not turning back at all. “I don’t hate you.”

He swiveled on his toes and gave a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Well, you did. Bad. And that shit isn’t fixed with a flash of your famous smile or by leaving a four-word blog comment.”

He winced. His regret had doubled every day that Alana hadn’t replied to his stupid message.

“What you need are some kneepads to grovel and expensive jewelry. Very expensive, Mitchell Davies.”

He chuckled and bowed his head in acceptance. “Duly noted… So does that mean you’ll give me her address?”

“Not on your life.”

* * *

Alana lay on her bed, staring at the flaking white paint on her ceiling. Exhaustion consumed her bones, every muscle ached, and her heart beat with a lazy melancholy. A knock at the door yanked her from the self-pity, and she swiped a rough hand over the stray tear gliding down her cheek.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her mother gave a sad smile and strolled into the room. “Everything packed?”

Alana nodded. “Most of it, anyway.”

She hadn’t planned to stay here this long. Her emotions were still raw from betrayal. Yet, over the last few days her mother tried a little harder to make things right. Glimpses of truth were sprinkled into their conversations, enough for Alana to hang around longer than scheduled. “How’s the arm?”

Her mom lifted the wrist covered in plaster and shrugged with a wince. “Not as sore as my chest.”

There were still topics that weren’t up for discussion. Her mom refused to talk to her about the information the Bowens had shared. She would neither confirm nor deny that her father had paid for the property they currently lived on, or that he’d religiously sent money to them.

But what her mother did do was explain the trauma of the night and how she thought she was doing the right thing, even though she now knew it was wrong. They’d placed new boards on the broken bridge between them, slowly mending it until it resembled something that would hold weight.

“I guess karma is finally coming to claim vengeance.” Her mom gave a derisive chuckle and sat down on the end of the bed.

“No,” she said softly as sympathy overwhelmed her. Her mother’s emotional scars had always been visible to anyone who knew her well enough. Why hadn’t Alana noticed how deep they ran? “I don’t think that’s the case at all.”

Over the last few days they’d shared a million tears, discussed a lifetime worth of memories, and came out on the other side somewhat stronger. Her mother needed help and promised to go to counseling. The step in the right direction didn’t make up for a childhood full of lies, but it was a start.

“I can’t talk you into staying?”

“I’m sorry.” Alana shook her head. This wasn’t her home anymore. She couldn’t even look back on her past without a stab of deceit firing through her soul. She understood the reasons why her mother tried to change history, but it would just take time and space to forgive. “I want to get to know the Bowens and maybe meet my father properly.”

Her mother pulled back in shock, then schooled her expression and stared down at the carpeted floor. She released a pained breath, glanced up, opened her mouth, and then focused on the carpet again.

The silence thickened, and Alana gave her mom the time she needed to reply.

“I…” Her mother swallowed hard. “I know you don’t understand my fears and that you have your own life to lead. I’m just scared for you. I can’t sleep when you’re not here. I can’t think. I’m worried you’ll repeat my mistakes. I’m petrified some man will hurt my baby.”

Alana scooted forward on the bed and grabbed her mom’s undamaged hand, squeezing tight. “I know you’re scared. You’re my mom, you’re meant to worry about me. But I’m not a child. I need to build my own life and make my own future.”

Her mother glanced up with glassy eyes.

“I want to fall in love and get married and have babies. I’d love to work in a city and have my own studio. There are so many things I want, and I’ve been cut short on the opportunity to get them.”

A trail of tears fell down her mom’s cheeks as she nodded. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I will be. I’m scared too, and I’ve already been heartbroken by a man, believe it or not.” She shrugged. “Feeling heartbroken is better than feeling nothing at all.”

Her mother’s posture straightened and she frowned. “The musician broke your heart?”

“A little,” she lied.

The sharp trill of an incoming call sounded. She grabbed the cell off her pillow and rejected the connection without checking the ID. “Maybe you could come visit me in Richmond.”

The blood seeped from her mother’s face, turning her skin a shade of white. “I… That will be hard for me, Alana… If you promise to be patient with me, I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask for.”

They stared at each other in silence until her mother patted her hand gently and stood. “I’m going to let you finish packing before I turn into a blubbering mess.”

“Sounds like a plan.” It was already past nine, and her body wouldn’t cooperate much longer without rest.

Her mom strolled to the door and paused in the hall. “I know I told you I’m going to try and change, and I promise to give it my all. Just keep in mind a lot of the women here are still sensitive. I need you to make sure the men coming with the moving truck don’t go anywhere near the main house.”

Alana nodded. “I’ve already arranged to meet them at the property’s entrance. I’ll escort them in myself.” She also informed the retreat residents that there would be men on the property tomorrow. With her private cottage situated a couple hundred yards from the main house, nobody else should be disturbed.

“Oh, good.” Relief eased the lines of tension on her mother’s face. “I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up early.” Hopefully after her body had rested from the pulling, pushing, and packing of the past three days.

Her phone interrupted with another incoming call at the same time her mom waved and then disappeared down the hall. Alana gripped the cell in her hand and glanced down at the screen—Private Number. Someone with a private number was calling her after nine at night? The thought of talking to anyone right now made her exhaustion increase, so she rejected the call for a second time.

She planned on spending the next twenty-four hours packing the remainder of her belongings and saying goodbye to the women she considered her family. Switching her phone to silent, she lay back down on the mattress and fought to keep her eyes open. The rest of the world could wait for now.

Alana woke before the sun. As promised, she shared breakfast with her mom, who fidgeted at the table. Her anxiety at having men on the property was clearly visible, and no amount of consoling would calm her nerves.

A little before lunch, Alana met the moving truck at the front gate and led them down the gravel driveway in her mom’s car. The men were big and bulky, complete with the most well-defined arms in Colorado and manners her mother would appreciate if she would quit hiding and come to say hello. Interaction with the opposite sex would do the women good. Alana didn’t have a psychology degree, but shutting yourself away from men entirely didn’t seem healthy. Well, not for as long as her mother had, anyway.

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

She glanced up from cleaning the kitchen sink to see one of the movers frowning at the front door. She followed his gaze and found her mother standing on the outside of the screen, her posture straight, her chin high. “Mom?”

Her mother flashed Alana a quick glance before bringing her focus back to the man standing in the middle of the room with a large box in his hands.

“Sorry,” Alana mumbled under her breath. “She isn’t used to…strangers.” She pushed from the counter and strode from the house, letting the screen door shut with a slap. “What’s up?”

“I—” Her mother’s focus strayed inside. “Um… Kate rang the house phone.”

Alana stepped into her line of vision and claimed her attention. “And?”

She rested a hand on her mom’s shoulder to steer her into the front yard. Her mother ignored her, leaned forward, and reached for something propped against the wall.

A gun?

“You brought a damn gun!”

The rifle hung from her mom’s good hand. “I have a right to protect myself.”

“Jesus.” Alana tugged her mother away from the cottage, trying to place distance between her and the men.

“I came to tell you Kate rang. She said she tried to call you last night and wants you to get in contact with her.”

Alana’s gaze drifted from the gun, to her mother’s serious expression, then back to the gun. An armed courier wasn’t really necessary to deliver that message. “O…K…”

The door of her cottage squeaked, and both men came toward them carrying boxes. From the corner of her eye, she could see her mother’s grip on the rifle tightened, and she feared hell was about to break loose.

“Mom, you need to go back to the house. Everything is fine here. I’ll call Kate later.”

Her mother gave a jerky nod, her focus remaining on the men until she pivoted on her toes and strode to the main house.

As afternoon fell, the movers left with her belongings, and she sat on the dusty floorboards eating a sandwich she made earlier.

“Oh, shit.” She dusted her hands and hobbled to the kitchen, her muscles protesting as she grabbed her phone from the counter. She forgot to turn the ringer back on and found the announcement of eight missed calls on her screen. Clicking on the call log, she read the details of three of Kate’s calls and five from a private number. She poised her finger above the icon to return Kate’s call, but the far off sounds of hysterical shouting caused her to drop the phone and rush to the door.

The screen closed with a slap and made her jump. She strode out the front of her cottage, toward the main house, and found an unfamiliar white car parked in the driveway. Her mother stood on the porch, rifle poised and ready to fire. She aimed down at the vehicle and the two men standing on either side of it.

“Get off my property!” Her mom’s voice was frantic, unfamiliar.

Alana focused back on the men as she began to run, her stomach dropping with each step.

Oh. God.

Mitchell.