I got off the plane at LAX, dragging my worn suitcase behind me. My stomach churned, the strong smell of airline fuel wafting into the cramped hallway.

Dread washed over me as I thought of the photographers congregating at the bottom of the escalator, hoping to get a shot of the flavor of the week so they could auction it off to the highest bidder.

Standing in the corner of the crowded bathroom, I tucked my long hair under an LA Dodgers baseball cap.

I slipped through the throngs of people unnoticed, breathing a sigh of relief when the automatic doors whooshed open, and I spotted my regular driver hovering next to the unassuming black sedan in passenger pick up.

Out of nowhere, a paparazzo stepped in front of me, walking backward with a video camera trained on my face.

“Taryn! Where’s Becks?” He pulled the lens away to judge my reaction. “Are you here to confront Maddy?”

Another cameraman joined the fray. And another.

Sidestepping the boldest reporter, blocking my path with his thick body, I passed the driver my bag. “You guys must be really desperate.”

“Come on, Taryn,” he pressed, nearly falling off the curb in hot pursuit as I ducked into the backseat. “Are you here with Beckett?”

I slammed the door on the interloper.

“Sorry about that, Ms. Ayers.” The driver met my gaze in the rearview mirror, a sympathetic smile lifting his lips. “You know how they are.”

I nodded wearily, and looked out the tinted windows. The LA skyline, with its blanket of haze, deepened the gloom settling on me. Tori’s ringtone pierced the air.

Not now, Belle.

I hit ignore, sending the call to voicemail. Likely, her tone would mimic the flavor of the dozen texts she’d sent since this morning when I apprised her of my plans. Resting my eyes for what I thought was a second, I jolted awake when the sedan pulled to a stop and the driver lowered the partition.

“Sorry to wake you. We’re here.”

I punched in the code for the wrought iron security gate, glowering at the girls loitering on the perimeter of the property. Drained and bone tired, I stepped into the perpetual California sunshine.

“There you go, Ms. Ayers,” the driver said, exchanging my suitcase for a generous tip. “See you next time.”

I surveyed the façade of the two-story, six room Mediterranean mansion. A shit-ton of bad memories overshadowed the opulence of the charming estate. But since I was only going to be here a couple of days I didn’t see the use in going to a hotel.

I dragged my suitcase over the threshold, the wheels sliding on the polished marble as I made my way to the staircase.

A cloud of stale perfume assailed me as I stepped inside the guest room. Assuming Harper Rush was the previous occupant, I threw my suitcase on the bed, ignoring the cloying floral scent. I froze when I pulled open the dresser drawer and came face to face with a stack full of publicity shots of Maddy Silva.

Gathering my things, I did the only thing I could do. I walked straight to the double doors at the end of the hallway. As I glanced around the room I never wanted to see again, I spotted several pictures of me on the dresser.

An eight by ten glossy of me at seventeen sat on the nightstand, facing the bed. Beckett’s tribute fell flat when I thought of all the women that must’ve seen the photo and felt sorry for me. But I was too exhausted to care.

I caught a whiff of Beckett’s soap, lingering on the feather pillows. It was strangely comforting in an odd way. Whatever else Beckett was, he was home to me.

Taking a deep breath, I blocked out the sound of Tori’s ringtone. I’d deal with the fallout when I was rested.

My eyes drifted shut, and Chase’s smile awaited me in a dream. The fifteen hundred miles that separated us wasn’t far enough to drive him from my mind. But it was a start.

I took the last bite of my Hershey bar and then began the search for my laptop. It was somewhere in the bed. As much as I dreaded sleeping here when I’d arrived, I hadn’t left the safety of the room in thirty-six hours.

Throwing back the heavy comforter, I spotted my MacBook. A glimmer of hope resounded in my chest when I saw the little yellow “away” symbol next to Tori’s Skype handle. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Gingerly, I hit the button and held my breath.

“Taryn!”

I could hear her voice, but there was no live feed. Thank God.

“I’m here,” I replied dully.

“I can’t see you.”

“Hit the button with the camera in the middle of the …”

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her brows pinched in anger. “And why haven’t you picked up the damn phone?”

“I did,” I protested. “I sent you a text. I’m in LA.”

“No shit.” She lifted the energy drink to her lips, the aluminum can crunching under the pressure of her grip.

“I’ve got to handle that business with Trent.”

I conveniently omitted the fact that I’d skipped the meeting and had yet to reschedule.

“And you had to fly out there personally—without telling anyone where you were going?”

“We just talked about this.” My diplomatic tone edged with irritation. “You told me to handle Trent, and I am.”

“We’ve got a meeting with the vendors about the memorial show. That’s the priority.”

At the moment, I was the priority. But Tori didn’t see that. She didn’t even ask.

“You don’t need me for that,” I bit out. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Tori contemplated for a moment, then lifted her chin. “No.”

I arched a brow. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“‘No’ means ‘no.’ I need you here. Come back now.”

In the span of a day and a half, my best friend had morphed into a querulous child. Well, the metamorphosis took longer, but the edicts were fairly new.

Relaxing against the pillows, I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s not your decision, Belle.”

“It’s my company. And I didn’t authorize this trip.”

“I’m not a child. I don’t need your permission to take a meeting.”

“As long as you work for Twin Souls you do.”

The knife sank into my skin, burying itself between the sword that Beckett slipped in years ago, and the blade that Chase planted two days ago. A tiny garden of sharp metal.

“If you feel that strongly about it—” The screen shook violently under my bobbing leg. “Then maybe I shouldn’t be working for Twin Souls.”

Tori’s jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered. “What are you saying, Taryn?”

She bit out my name like it left a bitter taste in her mouth. And maybe it did.

Ignoring her question, I took in a lungful of air so I could continue. Finish this without dissolving into a puddle of tears.

“I don’t have much protection when it comes to the company. But I do have first right of refusal on any Leveraged project.” I swallowed hard. “But I’ll relinquish all rights to anything else, if you’d like.” I lifted my chin, and added as an afterthought, “Except Harper Rush.”

She pulled off her reading glasses, revealing her rich, amber hued irises. “Harper Rush?”

“She’s not a client of Twin Souls. She’s my client. I have a contract with her personally.” Tori’s lips parted, and I shook my head. “You never wanted her, Belle. So I made sure you’d never be saddled with her if I ever left.”

“You mean quit,” she bit out.

I meant died. But I wouldn’t tell Tori that. Because when I signed that paper, I believed a freak accident would be more likely than me leaving Twin Souls.

My fingers dug into my ribs as I hugged myself tighter. “Resign. There’s a difference.”

She assessed my resolve with a narrowed gaze. “And if I decide to replace you on the Leveraged project?”

I smiled sadly. She’d painted me into a corner, and I had no leg to stand on. Except for the fact that Beckett would likely refuse to finish the project without me. Maybe.

“Legally, you can’t. And if you tried, you know what would happen. Beckett would side with me, and Dylan would side with you.”

She raised a brow. “You sure about that?”

I wasn’t sure about anything.

“I’ve been with Leveraged since the beginning. Since Damaged.” My voice broke when I thought of Rhenn and Paige, and everything we’d created in their memory. “I won’t make them choose. I’m asking you as my friend. My best friend. Let me finish this project, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Out of my …” She blinked, then fused her lips shut for a long moment.

I said a silent prayer that she’d give in, because I couldn’t.

When the stone set in Tori’s eyes, I knew it wasn’t meant to be.

“Fine, Taryn,” she said through clenched teeth. “Finish out the project.”

The screen flickered, and all that was left was her photo. It was an old picture. And she was smiling that carefree smile she used to wear.

As I closed the laptop, a piece of me fell away. Tori didn’t know she had it—that piece of my heart. But I could feel the hollow spot in my chest where it used to reside.

Climbing back under the covers, I dragged a pillow over my head. And then the sobs came. Thick and hot, tears rolled down my cheeks in waves.

I’d lost everything. Or threw it away. Hell, maybe whatever I had was never mine to begin with. It was a borrowed life. Like everyone said.

Who was I, if I wasn’t Beckett’s girl, or Tori’s best friend? Maybe I’d wither and fade without them.

No, that wouldn’t happen.

As the tears continued to fall, threatening to drown me where I laid, I had my doubts.