I stand outside the church that called to me like a beacon in the darkness. I didn’t know where else to go, and I knew this was where I needed to be. Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I tip my head back and look up at the bell that strikes loudly at the top of the hour.

“Emilia?” I hear his voice before I see him.

Father Mark slips out of a side door and locks it behind him. “Is everything all right?”

I shake my head, words failing me again. He must think I’m an idiot.

Eyeing my bag, his eyes become sympathetic, and he invites me inside. I follow him in and sit in the last pew, setting my bag on the ground next to me. We sit in silence for minutes before Father Mark turns to me.

“Where are you going to go?”

So, he knows I’m leaving. I feel a lump in my throat and shrug. I shrug because I don’t have an answer. He nods quickly and drops his eyes to his hands, which are laced together in his lap. “Alex is a complicated man, Emilia. When he told me about you, I prayed you wouldn’t get caught up in everything.” He pulls a hand free and whirls it around the air between us.

“You know about his business?” I blink at the floor. I can’t believe Father Mark would know.

“All too well.” He sighs. “Emma, Alex’s mother, used to confide in me about how the business was destroying her family. She was so worried about what her boys were being exposed to—drugs, guns, violence. She grew up in a nice family not too far from here. They were a poor family, but a nice and loving family. Emma wanted that for her children; a loving, nurturing environment. And Antonio gave her everything she didn’t have growing up—money, a nice house, a car—but she quickly realized what the cost of those luxuries was. Her family. She wanted to take the boys and leave it all behind, but Antonio wouldn’t hear of it. He loved her, but he loved the business more.”

He shakes his head sadly, then continues, “She came to me for help. Asked me to get the boys out of school so she could take them and leave. It wasn’t unusual for me to pull children from class and have them help me here in the parish. I had a funeral I had to be at, so I told her I’d help her the following day. She was killed that afternoon. I never got to help her.” His body sags with age-old secrets and a grief I know all too well.

He keeps his eyes downcast and his voice low. “I know it wasn’t my fault, but to this day, I carry the guilt of knowing her death could’ve been prevented if she’d left that day, had I helped her get those boys out of the parish school. It would’ve taken me five minutes…” He sighs. “Instead, I watched a family be destroyed, one son handed over to his aunt and uncle, and another left behind to be raised in a life of horror.”

Horror…Alex never chose this life. I know that. Still…

“Emilia, I don’t know where you’re going, but go. Get away from here.”

“I am.” I just need to figure out where.

“The further away the better.” He places his hand on mine, giving it a fatherly pat. “Take all the time you need here, Emilia. And if there’s anything I can do to help, please ask.”

“Thank you, Father.”

He offers a kind smile and leaves. I lose track of time as I sit in the wooden pew. The church grows darker as night settles in, the only light coming from the overhead lights that shine down on the altar in the distance.

I pray again to a God that probably won’t hear me—but I beg him for direction, for clarity. I even kneel and rest my forearms on the back of the pew in front of me, bowing my head in silence as if the answers to my prayers will suddenly come.

I hear the door behind me open, but I’m too lost in my thoughts and my own sadness to care. Moments later, a hand rests on my shoulder, and I raise my head.

Sam? How did he know I was here?

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Need a friend?” He spots my bag on the ground and looks back to me.

“I do.”

“Come on.” He reaches for my hand. “Let’s go.” With his other hand, he grabs my bag and we walk out the back of the church and into the hot Phoenix night. Another summer monsoon is brewing and lightning reaches across the dark sky to the south. Sam guides me to his car, which is parked on the street. As I settle in, I glance back and see Father Mark at the top of the stairs, watching us before he retreats inside.

“Did Father Mark tell you where to find me?” I ask, curious.

He shakes his head slowly, but keeps his eyes focused straight ahead. “No.”

“Then how’d you know I was here?”

“Alex told me.”

* * *

Sam and I sit at a small table in the kitchen of his house in an old historical neighborhood of downtown Phoenix. The bungalow-style house has been remodeled, but touches of the old have been left behind to complement the new modern interior. Sam and I haven’t spoken since he told me it was Alex that told him where to find me.

In my mind, I try to weave together the web of lies that have been spun to me by both of them, but I’m coming up empty.

Sam sits silently, waiting for me to ask questions, while I sit equally as silent and wait for him to offer me answers. Neither of us is willing to go first. We’re both headstrong and not willing to budge. Maybe these are our greatest strengths, or maybe our biggest downfall.

It’s a showdown. Who will break first? Of course it’ll be me, but until I do, Sam and I shift uncomfortably in our chairs. Sam sends emails or texts from his phone. The muscles in his forearms stretch as he rolls his fingers on the table and then his foot begins a light tapping on the floor. When he tires of that, he runs his hands through his hair and rubs his temples, a light groan emanating from the back of his throat. I take note of everything he does. He’s a beautiful man. Complex and dedicated, waiting out my stubbornness. I find these qualities attractive and frustrating all in the same breath.

“Why would Alex call you?” There they are, the first words I’ve spoken in hours, and I submitted first. I’ll let him win the battle of willpower because I need answers.

His eyes dart from the wall he was studying to me. “He needed me.”

“That’s a lie. He doesn’t need you,” I snarl. “He doesn’t trust you.”

He exhales loudly and rubs his chin. “You’re right. He doesn’t.”

“Then why would he call you?” I demand.

“I don’t know, Emilia. I’m trying to figure all of this out myself. But when he said you needed me, I knew I had to find you.”

“Why?” I frown, growing more agitated by the second.

“Because I care about you.” His face is conflicted, as if it pains him to say that.

“You don’t even know me,” I whisper.

“I probably know you better than you know yourself.” His eyes dance between mine. He runs his hand over his face and sighs deeply.

“Does he know I’m with you?” I ask, my voice strained.

“No. Do you want me to tell him?”

“No.” It would hurt him. Damn him. Even with all of his lies, I still don’t want to hurt him.

“I’m sure he already knows anyway.” He shakes his head, annoyed. “For years, we’ve watched each other’s every move. He knows you’re here.”

It wouldn’t surprise me. Alex has always seemed to know my every move. Of course that’s because he’s always had his goons following me.

Sam smirks suddenly, like he can see the wheels turning inside my head, see how frustrated and torn I am about everything. Maybe even how torn I am between him and Alex. It’s stupid. I love Alex. I don’t love Sam—but there’s an attraction to Sam.

The room has gone silent again, and I bury my face in my hands. “So tell me. You coming into the café to see me, and our dinner together…that was all professional, wasn’t it?”

He stares long and hard at me before his face softens. “It started as professional, Emilia…but then it became personal. I told you I care about you.” I don’t want to believe him, but I do.

I grit my teeth. “I didn’t know anything about Alex or the business until a few days ago, Sam.”

“I know,” he admits. “It took me all of three minutes to know you didn’t have a clue.”

I scowl at him. “I won’t give you anything on Alex or the business. So, if that’s why I’m here, I’d like to leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Emilia,” he says firmly, his eyes warning me.

* * *

Sam grabs a blanket and pillow from a closet in the hallway and tosses it on the couch. “I’ll sleep out here and you can take my bed.”

I huff, although there’s no point in arguing. He’s the epitome of a true gentleman; he’d never let me sleep on the couch. To be honest, I don’t have the fight in me tonight to argue anyway.

I saunter into the bedroom and collapse into Sam’s bed. My tense muscles finally begin to unwind, and I inhale deep breaths in hopes of calming my mind. Rolling to my side, I watch the lightning stretch across the sky through the window. I watch the lightning and the clouds roll in before the wind finally takes hold, branches whipping through the air and the roof creaking as the intensity picks up.

Thunder cracks loudly and reminds me of the summer storms we’d get in Illinois. Mom and I would lie together on her bed and listen to the rain and wind and pray that our trailer would make it through each storm.

As the storm outside strengthens, I slide out of the bed and stand near the window. The air outside is thick with dust, and the first drops of rain slap against the window. Suddenly, a dark figure moving across the yard catches my attention, and I scream, jerking out of view.

“Emilia!” Sam comes barreling through the bedroom door, holding a gun and wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and his unbuttoned dress shirt. “What happened?”

I’m pressed against the wall, my fingers digging into my thighs. “There’s someone outside.”

“Get down,” he orders me. I crouch down and Sam moves quickly to the side of the window. He glances discreetly outside, his eyes scanning the yard. “Stay here and don’t get up until I come back.”

Fear sets in and my entire body begins to shake uncontrollably. This is the first time I’ve felt real danger, and the combination of adrenaline and fear sends me into a state of panic. I huddle in the corner of the room, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, and I rock slightly back and forth to remain calm.

A few minutes later, Sam finds me and kneels next to me on the floor. “It’s fine, Emilia. You’re fine.” He wraps a gentle hand around my bicep. “I checked the security feed, and there was no one out there.”

I frantically shake my head. “There was. I saw someone, Sam. I’m not lying.”

“I know you’re not,” he consoles me. “But I think maybe it was a shadow from a tree, or you’re just exhausted and seeing things.”

“I’m not seeing things,” I snarl at him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls me into him. My head rests against his bare chest, and I can smell the light musky scent of his skin. It’s clean but masculine. His embrace is comforting, and I sink into him, enjoying the temporary comfort of his arms.

“I’m going back to the living room. If you need me, call for me.”

“Stay with me.” I need him. I love Alex, but right now, I need Sam.

His eyes are conflicted and his posture hesitant, but he nods and sets his gun on the nightstand. Crawling into the bed, he lies down on his back, as close to the edge as possible, arms above his head. His dress shirt falls open and I can see the tight curves of his muscles and a light sprinkling of dark hair just below his navel.

I slide back to the other side of the bed and lie on my side, facing him, my knees pulled up to my chest. We lie together in silence, our eyes locked. That eye contact and our breathing are the only ways we communicate with each other, but we can read each other without muttering a single word.

For the first time since meeting Sam, I see his face etched with an unknown pain. It’s there, written across his face like a map, and I want to ask questions, but I don’t. Silence fills the space between us, until the physical distance is too great. Hesitantly, I reach out and rest my hand on his chest, just over his heart. He holds his breath as my fingers come into contact with his soft, warm skin, then he lowers an arm and wraps my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze and pulling me closer. He holds my hand until we both fall asleep.

* * *

The faint sound of a phone ringing pulls me from a deep sleep. Sam is on his stomach. Long, relaxed breaths tell me he’s still asleep. I gently slide my arm out from under his and try my best to get out of the bed without waking him.

“It’s too early for you to be awake,” he grumbles.

I startle. “I was trying not to wake you.”

He rolls to his side and half opens one eye, while I sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” He tugs me back, his arm finding my waist, and we both lie on our sides, facing each other. “Stay with me.” His voice is raspy and his hair is messy, but there’s nothing unsexy about this man in the morning.

“I can’t, Sam. I’m sure it’s a conflict of interest with your case…but I made up my mind last night. I’m going to Oregon.”

And there’s that pain again. “What’s in Oregon?”

“The ocean,” I whisper to him. I remember telling Alex about Oregon and what his response was. “If you ever get the chance to go to Oregon, go.”

Sam runs his fingers along my jawline, over my lips, and up my cheeks. “I’d really like you to stay…with me,” he says as I shift on the bed. He pulls me even closer, and I can feel his warm breath sweep across my cheek as he exhales. As he presses a kiss to my forehead, I close my eyes.

“I want to kiss you here.” He presses another kiss to my forehead. “And here.” His lips brush against my cheekbone. “And here.” He pulls my bottom lip into his, and I gasp. “And I want to touch you, Emilia.” His hand gently rubs my arm. My body betrays me and reacts to his touch, but as I close my eyes, I envision Alex’s hands on my body and Alex’s lips on mine.

“I can’t,” I whisper against his lips.

“You can, Em,” he insists.

The phone in the other room begins ringing again, and Sam sighs loudly, grudgingly pulling away and sitting up.

“You should probably get that,” I say quietly just as it stops ringing.

“I’ll call them back. Do you want coffee?” He stands and stretches, then steps out.

“That’d be great. I’m going to shower really quick, but I’ll be out in a minute.”

I stumble into the attached bathroom and close the door behind me. While the shower runs, I quickly brush my teeth and then step into the stream of water. It’s hot and scalds my skin and temporarily washes away the guilt I feel for letting Sam kiss me. Without changing the temperature, I lather up a washcloth and wash my face and body before quickly washing and conditioning my hair.

A moment later, there’s a light rap on the door just as Sam’s voice comes through. “I have to run out for a bit, Em. I’m setting a mug of coffee here for you.”

I stick my head out from behind the curtain just as Sam reaches in and sets the steaming mug on the counter. “Thanks!” I respond and shut off the water, wrapping my hair in a thick towel and patting my body dry with another. As I wait for the mirror to de-fog, I sip on the hot coffee. It’s perfect, and within minutes, begins to energize me. In the bedroom, I pull on a pair of panties and throw on a sundress.

With an arm full of wet towels, I walk back toward the bathroom, but a tall chest of drawers catches my attention. It’s not actually the chest, but the picture that sits on top of it. With a shaky hand, I pick up the photo and gasp. But…It can’t be. In a matter of seconds, my worlds collide and everything I thought I knew about Alex and Sam comes to a screeching halt.